CHAPTER 218: CHAPTER 218: CHAOTIC BREAKFAST

They stepped inside, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.

The dining room was bright and warm, sunlight catching on polished stone and soft gold accents. The long table that had been set for four was simple, elegant, and unmistakably arranged by someone who wanted things perfect without looking like he was trying too hard.

Dax was already seated at the head of the table.

He wasn’t wearing a crown, or his mantle, or anything particularly dramatic, just a fitted black shirt and dark slacks that somehow made him look even more dangerous in the morning light. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting on the table, but his attention snapped to Chris the second he walked in.

And there it was, the softening of his expression.

The barely-there smile.

The subtle shift in the air was like the whole room was adjusting to him.

Chris resisted the urge to throw something at him.

Dax’s eyes flicked briefly toward Andrew and Mia, assessing them without judgment.

Mia stopped dead in her tracks.

"Oh my god," she whispered, staring up at Dax like she’d encountered a mythological creature. "He’s enormous."

Andrew elbowed her. "Mia. Manners."

She ignored him entirely. "Chris! He’s a whole skyscraper!"

Chris dropped his face into his hands. "Please. Please be normal."

"I am being normal," Mia insisted. "That is a normal reaction to meeting someone who could personally bench-press a city bus."

Andrew cleared his throat, shifting into professional, protective big-brother mode. "Your Majesty," he said, offering a respectful nod.

Dax rose smoothly, not all the way, but enough to acknowledge them without intentionally intimidating anyone. His voice was warmer than usual. "Andrew. Mia. Welcome to Saha."

Mia whispered to Chris, "He knows our names, Chris. He knows our names."

"Mia," Chris muttered. "You met him in Palatine... You had dinner with us."

Chris didn’t even get a chance to brace himself.

Mia froze mid-step, staring at Dax like she was finally putting puzzle pieces together that had been haunting her since Palatine.

"Oh my god," she said slowly, eyes widening. "That dinner."

Chris winced. "Mia..."

"No, shut up." She pointed at Dax, then at Chris, then back again. "I didn’t say what I was thinking that night because I didn’t know if you were going to survive it."

Dax’s brow lifted a fraction.

Chris stared at her like she was malfunctioning. "What does that even mean?"

Mia threw both hands in the air. "Chris! You sat across from him looking like a terrified deer. He stared at you like you were dessert. I thought he was going to eat you or marry you, and honestly, I wasn’t sure which one was worse."

Chris groaned. "MIA."

She barreled on. "I kept my mouth shut because I genuinely did not know if you’d walk out of that dining room alive or claimed or... evaporated! You were shaking!"

"I was not shaking," Chris muttered.

"You dropped your fork," Mia snapped back. "Twice."

Dax, who absolutely remembered that fork incident, turned his head slightly toward Chris, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth. "I noticed."

Chris smacked his palm over his face. "Please stop acknowledging that out loud."

Mia jabbed a finger at Dax. "And you! Sitting there all calm and giant and kingly, staring at him like he was... like he was yours. You cannot blame me for thinking the situation was above my pay grade."

Dax actually looked amused. "I suppose it was."

Mia spun back to Chris with triumph. "SEE? EVEN HE ADMITS IT."

Chris wanted the floor to swallow him. "Mia, for the love of God, eat something; maybe then you would stop talking nonsense."

Mia gasped like he’d just committed treason. "Nonsense? Chris, please. I was sitting across from a man who could snap a car in half and he was looking at you like you were his next meal."

Chris groaned. "That’s not..."

"It is EXACTLY that," Mia cut in, jabbing the air for emphasis. "He had that whole silent, deadly, ’I have already claimed this omega in my mind’ energy. I was trying not to die from secondhand tension."

"Mia," Chris hissed, "stop narrating my trauma."

She ignored him. "Do you know what I was thinking that night? ’If Chris survives this, I will ask questions.’ And here we are."

Andrew shook his head like he’d aged ten years. "Mia, you asked anyways..."

But she was unstoppable.

"And now that I know he didn’t eat you or imprison you in a tower or start a political crisis because you dropped your fork twice..."

"STOP REMINDING HIM," Chris yelled.

"I am free to state the obvious," Mia finished, hands on her hips. "He looked at you like you were his. And he’s a king. Kings don’t look at just anyone like that."

Dax, who had been watching them with quiet, entertained restraint, tilted his head slightly. "She’s perceptive."

Chris pointed at him in outrage. "DO NOT ENCOURAGE HER."

Mia smirked. "Too late."

Then, as if nothing insane had just come out of her mouth, she plopped into her chair and grabbed a piece of fruit.

"Now let me eat," she said cheerfully. "Maybe then I’ll stop saying nonsense."

Chris muttered under his breath, "No, you won’t."

Dax’s lips twitched.

Andrew sighed.

And Mia, already biting into a grape, said, "Probably not. But at least I’ll be less hungry while ruining your life."

—

Andrew cleared his throat, settling into his chair the way a man does when he knows he’s going to need patience and protein to survive breakfast. "Alright," he said, looking between Chris, Mia, and the literal king of a foreign nation. "Now that Mia’s... expression of concern is over, can we talk like adults?"

Mia snorted. "I am an adult."

"You are twenty-one and fueled entirely by spite and iced coffee," Andrew replied calmly.

"Still counts," Mia said around a mouthful of fruit.

Chris dropped into his seat with all the grace of a man accepting his inevitable doom. "Okay. Let’s talk. Let’s talk quietly. Let’s talk in a volume that doesn’t summon palace guards."

Dax, of course, sat there perfectly composed, resting his hand lightly against the table as if he hadn’t just been compared to a sentient skyscraper. His gaze flicked to Andrew, steady and polite. "I assume you have questions."

Andrew let out a breath. "Questions is... a gentle word."

Chris muttered, "Oh no."

Andrew leaned forward, fingers laced, brow drawn with big-brother concern and prosecutor precision.

"Maleks are already on their way. They were supposed to arrive three days after us, but they discovered that we were on the private jet." He paused, reaching for his coffee. "Our sources confirm that they tried to get on the jet with us, under the excuse of family."

Dax didn’t react, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree.

Chris felt the change instantly.

"Oh fantastic," he muttered, "breakfast and homicide."

Andrew continued, unaware, or pretending not to be aware, of the way Dax’s dominance tightened like a silent snare.

"They were denied," Andrew added, voice calm but with the exact sharp edge he used in court. "Obviously. But the moment they realized we were coming here, they moved up their own travel plans."

Mia snorted. "Nosy, entitled, self-inviting... classic Malek behavior."

Chris buried his face in his hands. "God, why? Can’t we stall them at the airport or something?"