It was the party evening, and while Sara got ready in her room, the two men in her life were busy transforming themselves into trouble.
She was elegance personified. A black one-piece gown skimmed just till her ankle, a subtle slit running along her left thigh. It was from Novacore's latest party collection, fitted perfectly to her shape. Her hair was tied in a loose, soft bun. Glasses that added a scholar-sexy charm, though she'd wanted lenses, Kairo refused and made her wear her glasses. He liked them. They made her look like his.
On the other hand, Kairo looked… unreal.
A white shirt was tucked neatly beneath a black blazer, and black trousers hugged his long legs perfectly. His soft, slightly brown curls were combed back and styled neatly, with a strand of hair that stubbornly framed his forehead in the most sinful way. His green, shimmering eyes added a quiet magnetic charm to his beauty that could silence a room.
He was the perfect blend of masculine and feminine beauty, dangerous and soft at the same time. Enough to destroy peace in any party.
And finally, little Zayn. A miniature Kairo. Wearing the same suit as his father, same hairstyle, same soft curls, same shiny shoes. The kind of father-son duo who could bring an entire hall to its knees by just standing there.
Sara was checking her outfit in the mirror when Kairo walked in, holding Zayn.
He paused. Because his wife, his everything, looked like a dream he wasn't qualified for.
He walked toward her slowly, eyes running over her silhouette in the mirror. Then, as casually as breathing, he smacked her butt.
"Ready, mommy?" he asked.
Sara's eyes snapped to the reflection of the two of them, her impossibly handsome husband and her dangerously adorable son.
Her stomach flipped. She gasped dramatically. "Are you two planning to destroy the party?"
Kairo smiled, pretending not to understand. "What?" he said lightly.
She turned around, narrowing her eyes at both of them. "How dare you two look this handsome? I swear, I'll punish you if anyone at the party tries to hit on you guys."
Kairo smirked and tugged her closer by the waist. "We're ready to get punished by mommy."
Zayn giggled, copying his father. "Yes!"
Kairo stared at his son with a soft smile at his innocence. Then his gaze flicked back to her with mischief blooming in it.
"By the way, what kind of punishment are you planning?" he asked, voice dropped, teasingly dark.. "I bet I'll get a different one than Zayn…"
He leaned in, lips brushing dangerously close. "Maybe a dirty one… me begging for mommy, beneath her."
Sara's eyes flew wide as she slapped his arm, pushing him away. He stumbled back a step, laughing. Zayn, watching his father act dramatic, burst into his own tiny, adorable laugh.
"I prefer the dirty punishment more," Kairo added bluntly.
"STFU," she mouthed, which only made him laugh harder.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Kairo froze mid-laugh. "Ahhh... I think the old man is here."
Sara snorted. "He's your father, idiot."
"Unfortunately." He sighed.
"Go get him." She pushed his shoulder.
Kairo gave another exaggerated sigh and headed out, still carrying Zayn like a stubborn prince who refused to walk.
Sara shook her head, smiling as she turned back to the mirror to fix her hair and lipstick.
The door opened, and Charles stood there, also dressed in black and white. He looked sharp as ever, but the moment he saw Zayn, his whole face lit up.
Zayn giggled the second he spotted him. "Grandpa!" he cheered, leaning forward with his arms stretched out, demanding to be held.
Charles's smile softened into something full of love.
"Ohh my little champ…" he whispered, lifting Zayn from Kairo's arms and hugging him tight. "How are you? Did you miss grandpa?"
Zayn nodded excitedly, kissing his grandpa. Charles smiled and planted a kiss on his soft, chubby cheek. Zayn giggled again, holding onto his grandpa's collar like he owned him.
And this time, Kairo said nothing. No drama, no fuss. He let his father hold Zayn the way he wanted.
"Sara's getting ready. Just five minutes," Kairo said.
Charles nodded, already too absorbed in Zayn to care about anything else.
Kairo turned and walked back toward the bedroom, leaving the two of them together, grandpa and grandson wrapped perfectly into their own little bubble.
As soon as Kairo stepped into the bedroom, he asked, "Ready?"
"Hmm… just a minute," she said, fixing the side of her dress. "Baby, can you get my purse and my heels from there?"
He nodded and walked to the closet drawer. The moment he opened it, he froze at the sight. A whole collection of footwear stared back at him. Which he had bought. Which he was now regretting.
"Which one, baby? There are too many," he said, confused.
She sighed with a teasing smile. "That's why I told you not to buy so many. But you didn't listen."
"They were all pretty, so I bought all of them. Now tell me which one you want."
She glanced at the neat row of shoes. "That black one in the left corner."
He picked them up along with her purse and brought them to her. She turned around, smiling softly.
"Thank you, my love."
His smile warmed, and his cheeks flushed just a little. When she reached to take the heels from his hands, he pulled them back.
She frowned. "What?"
"Let me do it for my wife," he said quietly, gently guiding her to sit on the edge of the bed.
A soft laugh escaped her. "God… I can't handle this gentleman version of my man."
He knelt, smiling, and began helping her into her heels. "You'll get used to this gentleman," he murmured.
She rested a hand on his shoulder for balance, her smile growing as he fastened the straps around her ankles with calm, careful hands. Then pressed a kiss on her exposed thigh.
"Done," he said, looking up at her.
She held his gaze for a second, then murmured, "Come here."
He didn't even waste a second. He leaned in instantly, like he'd been waiting for that call.
She smiled softly and brushed a loose strand of hair away from his forehead, only for it to fall right back into place, the one curl that always made him unfairly attractive. His eyes followed every move she made, fixed on her with that focused, hungry calm he had only for her.
She met his gaze and whispered, "I really will punish you if anyone at the party tries to hit on you."
He let out a breathy laugh. "Then punish me."
Her fingers trailed along his cheek, tracing the beauty of him, his eyes, his lashes, his brows, the sharp line of his nose, that exposed forehead that made him look sinfully attractive..
"Fuck," she whispered, grabbing his blazer and pulling him into a wild kiss.
A surprised laugh escaped his throat with a moan, swallowed instantly by her mouth. His hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer, yet holding himself back, careful, trying not to ruin her dress or makeup while still kissing life out of her.
His other hand grabbed the bedsheet, grounding himself so he wouldn't lose control. She clutched his blazer, dragging him closer, their lips moving with the urgency of two people who'd been starving for days.
When they finally broke apart, they were breathless, gasping, blinking, alive in the aftershock.
Her lipstick was ruined, lips flushed with heat, a soft, natural red blooming at the edges. His lips were wet, swollen, with her lipstick smudged beautifully along the corner of his lips.
He looked wrecked. She looked wrecked. And somehow, both looked even better than before.
He smiled. Not a small, shy smile, a full, stupidly joyful smile he couldn't hide. Because what she did was hot, sexy, needy, reckless… and he loved it. He actually loved it, and that kiss was everything he lived for.
He leaned in and pecked her lips, still smiling like an idiot. Then pecked again. And again. Until she started laughing, her cheeks heating up from his sudden affectionate attack.
She tugged him closer and pressed her lips to his for a long, grounding minute, then pulled back, leaving him giggling under his breath.
"I love you, baby boy…" she whispered.
His eyes dropped instantly. He bit his lip, shy, flustered in a way he never admitted aloud. These days, her soft nicknames hit him differently. They were new, gentle, intimate, the kind that wrapped around his heart instead of his ego.
And he loved every single one, because these soft nicknames wrecked him more than any dirty teasing ever could.
She smiled and kissed his forehead. "Honestly, it's illegal. How can God make you this beautiful? I'm jealous."
He let out a shy chuckle. "What are you saying…"
She pouted, eyebrows doing a dramatic little curve. "I don't know… I'm drunk on my husband's illegal beauty."
He chuckled again. Then leaned closer, eyes dropping to her lips, voice falling to a teasing whisper. "Is my wife ovulating?"
"Maybe," she whispered back, teasing.
He leaned in with a slow, wicked smile. "After the party… I'll take care of my wife's needs," he whispered, brushing a quick kiss against her lips. "In all the sinful ways she likes,"
She smirked, eyes dark with playfulness.. "Keep your words."
"I will… just let the party end," he murmured, that dangerous smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
She kissed him once more, a quick sealed promise. "Okay. Dad must be waiting. Let's go."
"Fix your lipstick, darling," he said, tapping her chin lightly.
She smiled and stood up, walking to the mirror to reapply the color. Kairo followed her like a shadow, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, refusing to let even a second pass without touching her, kissing her cheek repeatedly, making her laugh while she tried to focus on her lipstick.