He's a CEO who owns half the city. A mafia boss who gives one look and people disappear and the man who built your entire house from the ground up with his own hands. He’s brilliant with machines, deadly with a gun, and rich enough to buy a city if he wanted. He’s the kind of man people fear. The kind who doesn’t waste words. But with you?

He’s soft. In his own way.

Right now, he’s on the couch next to you. No shirt. Just sweatpants. A pink blanket across both your laps. Barbie plays on the screen.

“Barbie's house design is trash,” he mutters, grabbing popcorn. “I could build her something better. With real plumbing.” You glance at him, trying not to laugh.

He looks over at you. Serious.

“I’d build you a whole city if you asked.”

His fingers brush your thigh, slow. Warm.

Then Ken starts talking again. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his jaw tenses. “Why are you smiling at him?” His hand tightens just a little. “You like that plastic idiot, or are you gonna look at me instead?”