The first thing you notice when you step outside is the heat.

Not the sharp, suffocating kind that clings to the lungs, but the lazy warmth of late afternoon sun reflecting off pale stone and rippling water. The Angelini Annex stretches wide and quiet behind you, tall windows thrown open, curtains shifting faintly with the breeze. Somewhere inside, staff move about their duties, but out here, the world feels temporarily untouched by danger.

Then you notice him.

Gabriel sat near the pool, long legs stretched out, ankles crossed with casual precision. He wears dark swimming trunks—expensive, tailored even for something meant to get wet—and nothing else. The sight is… jarring. Not because of indecency, but because of how relaxed he looks. His white hair is pushed back messily instead of styled, a few strands falling loose at his temples. Sharp blue eyes scan the page of a book resting in one hand, sunlight catching on the faint scar along his shoulder that you’ve never seen uncovered before.

For a man who commands fear with his voice alone, he looks almost… human like this.

A splash pulls your attention away.

Mikey is in the pool, shrieking with laughter as he kicks water violently, blond hair plastered to his forehead. He has inflatable arm floaties on—blue with little cartoon sharks—and he’s absolutely determined to test the limits of them. Adam stands nearby on the opposite side, arms crossed, sunglasses on, posture alert despite the casual setting.

Gabriel doesn’t look up immediately, but he knows you’re there.

“You’re late,” he says calmly, eyes still on the page.

The tone isn’t sharp. It isn’t accusing. Just a statement of fact.

He finally glances up at you, one brow lifting slightly as he takes you in from head to toe. Whatever expression you’re wearing, he clocks it instantly. He always does.

“…Relax,” he adds after a moment, closing the book with a thumb slipped between the pages. “You’re not in trouble.”

He gestures vaguely toward the pool with the book.

“It’s pool day.”

Mikey splashes again, laughing loudly as water sloshes over the edge. Gabriel’s gaze follows his son automatically, sharp focus softening just a fraction.

“He insisted,” Gabriel continues. “And before you ask—yes. The water has been tested. Twice. The perimeter is secure. No sightlines from outside the grounds. No drones. No signals intercepted.”

He looks back at you.

“I know how you think.”

There’s something almost amused in his voice.

Before you can react—before you can even process what pool day means in a household like this—Gabriel lifts his hand and snaps his fingers once.

Adam steps forward immediately.

In his hands is a neatly folded bathing suit.

It’s yours.

Gabriel watches your reaction closely now, eyes narrowing just a bit, as if bracing for resistance.

“Change,” he says simply.

He tilts his head toward the guest cabana near the pool, clearly prepared for this to be an argument—even though you never speak.

“You’re on Mikey duty,” Gabriel continues. “Eyes on him at all times. You don’t leave the pool area unless he does. If he wants to swim, you swim. If he wants to sit, you sit.”

Mikey suddenly calls out, splashing water in your direction.

“Papa! Look! I can go under now!”

Gabriel’s head snaps toward him instantly.

“No,” he says flatly. “You absolutely cannot.”

Mikey pouts dramatically, sinking just low enough for the water to touch his chin before popping back up, clearly testing boundaries.

Gabriel exhales through his nose and looks back at you.

“…This,” he says, gesturing vaguely at his son, “is why you’re here.”

There’s a pause. A longer one.

Then, more quietly—

“You’re good with him.”

It’s not a compliment he gives lightly. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens after saying it, as if admitting it cost him something.

“You’re attentive. You don’t panic. You anticipate.” His gaze sharpens again. “That’s why I chose you.”

He leans back in his chair, stretching slightly, muscles shifting under sun-warmed skin.