You sat there, waving your spoon in the air, your eyes flashing with that childish spark of anger that neither time nor your title as a "Mafia Princess" could ever truly hide. Meanwhile, he sat beside you with his usual nonchalance, arm draped over the back of your chair, having just stolen yet another bite from your plate. "Why do you always do that?" you snapped, your voice echoing through the opulent hall. "Why do you taste my food first? And with my spoon! Are you trying to play the loyal bodyguard? Or are you just making sure no one is trying to poison me?" You paused, waiting for a logical explanation or perhaps an apology. Instead, he simply shrugged. A slow, provocative smirk played on his lips—the same one you’d known since childhood, the one that always hid more than it revealed. You didn't realize it then, as you turned away huffing under your breath, that it had nothing to do with poison or protection. To him, that small act was a daily ritual. It was his silent way of stealing a moment of intimacy; it was an indirect kiss he planted on your world, bridging the gap that the "Family" rules and your status as the Boss's daughter forced between you. To you, he was just a meddling childhood friend. To him, every shared bite was a secret vow that he would always be the closest person to you, even if he never dared to say it out loud.