1:00 PM Lunch: The "System Overload" and Bridget's Breaking Point
[Author's POV]
The dining room was supposed to be a place of quiet "Data Consumption," but the atmosphere was thick with enough romantic tension to short-circuit the mansion's entire electrical grid. Jay was seated comfortably, her "Double-Heir" bump resting against the table's edge, while Keifer sat beside her, his chair so close they were practically sharing the same "User Interface."
Bridget sat across from them, trying to enjoy a Caesar salad. Keigan and Keiran were at the other end, acting as silent witnesses to the impending disaster.
The "Hand-Feed" Protocol: [Jay's POV]
I reached for the salt shaker, my hand hovering over the table. Before my fingers could even make contact, Keifer's hand shot out like a lightning-fast "Security Response." He didn't just grab the salt; he caught my hand, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles in slow, deliberate circles.
"Allow me, Weify," he murmured, his voice dropping into that deep, "CEO-bedroom" baritone. "The Prince and Princess shouldn't have to exert themselves for sodium. Your only job is to look 1,000% radiant."
He didn't let go of my hand. He brought it to his lips, kissing the center of my palm while looking me straight in the eyes with a gaze so intense it felt like he was "Downloading" my soul.
I felt my cheeks catch fire. "Keifer... it's just salt. I can handle it. My 'System' isn't paralyzed."
"I disagree," he whispered, leaning closer until his shoulder was pinned against mine. "Your system is currently producing the next generation of Watsons. You are the 'Primary Server.' I am just the 'Maintenance Crew'—and I take my job very, very seriously."
The Breaking Point: [Bridget's POV]
I dropped my fork. The clatter echoed off the marble walls like a gunshot.
I looked at them. Keifer was currently gazing at Jay as if she were a rare, high-definition diamond, and Jay was blushing so hard she looked like she was about to experience a "Thermal Shutdown."
"Okay, THAT IS IT!" I yelled, throwing my linen napkin onto the table. "SYSTEM ERROR! ABORT MISSION!"
The entire table jumped. Keiran nearly choked on a crouton. Keifer slowly turned his head, his "Ice King" mask sliding back into place as he looked at me. "Bridget? Your volume is hitting an 'Unacceptable Decibel' level."
"Oh, my volume is unacceptable?!" I stood up, gesturing wildly at the two of them. "You two are hitting an 'Unacceptable Cringe' level! I am a trained security professional, Keifer! I have guarded heads of state! I have neutralized tactical threats! But I cannot—I will not—sit here and watch you 'hand-feed' your wife a cherry tomato like you're in a slow-motion perfume commercial!"
The "Mating Ritual" Rant
"It's just affection, Bridget," Jay giggled, though she tried to hide behind her water glass.
"Affection?!" I shrieked. "Jay, he just kissed your palm for forty-five seconds because you reached for the salt! We are trying to eat lunch, and he's out here performing a 'Watson Mating Ritual' in broad daylight! I feel like I'm watching a nature documentary on 'The Billionaire in Love.' It's disgusting! It's 1,000% hazardous to my mental health!"
I turned to Keigan. "Tell them! Tell them it's too much!"
Keigan didn't look up from his tablet. "I've already filtered them out of my visual field, Bridget. I'm currently treating them like 'Background Noise' or a persistent pop-up ad."
Keifer's "Alpha" Response: [Keifer's POV]
I didn't move. In fact, I purposely slid my arm around Jay's shoulders, pulling her even closer until she was tucked firmly against my suit jacket.
"If the 'Data' is too much for you, Bridget, you're welcome to relocate to the security booth," I said, my voice smooth and utterly unbothered. "But as long as Jay is carrying my son and daughter, she will be treated with the maximum 'Service Level' available. If that includes kissing her hand over the condiments, then you'll just have to recalibrate your tolerance."
I looked back at Jay, a smug, 1,000% arrogant smirk playing on my lips. "Now, Weify... would you like a piece of this grilled chicken? Or should I pre-cut it into 'Heir-Sized' portions for you?"
The Exit: [Author's POV]
Bridget let out a sound that was half-scream, half-growl. She grabbed her plate and stood up.
"I'm going to the firing range!" she announced, stomping toward the door. "At least there, the only things getting hit are the targets—not my sanity! I'll be in Sector 4 if anyone needs me. Do NOT send the CEO. He'll probably try to flirt with the ammunition!"
She slammed the door behind her.
The dining room fell into a brief, stunned silence. Then, Keiran let out a snort. "She's right, you know. You're being a 1,000% dork, Big Bro."
"1,000%," Jay agreed, leaning her head on Keifer's shoulder. "But he's my dork."
Keifer just kissed the top of her head. "Data confirmed. Now, about that chicken..."