Five minutes after his spectacular tumble, Marcus Mahatir limped back to Xavier Cain's bedside, plopping into the chair with a wince. His leg throbbed from the rogue needle incident, and now it was trembling like a leaf in a storm—whether from pain or some jangled nerve, he couldn't tell. He adjusted his glasses, trying to look composed despite the chaos he'd just inflicted on himself.
"Junior brother," Marcus said, forcing a grin, "I rushed over here half-cocked and underprepared—my bad! But don't you worry. Back home, I've got a set of custom silver needles—tough as nails. They'll get the job done tomorrow, guaranteed!"
Xavier, still swaddled in bandages like a grumpy cocoon, managed a weak smile. "Thanks, senior brother. You're a lifesaver."
Marcus waved a hand, his curls bouncing with the gesture. "Psh, we're family—what's with the mushy stuff? You rest up, and I'll swing by tomorrow to fix you right up!" He gave Xavier's shoulder a light pat, though the effort made his leg twitch harder.
"Why tomorrow, though?" Xavier rasped, his impatience bubbling up. "Why not tonight? I want out of this bed now!"
Marcus scratched his neck, sheepish. "Gotta get this leg checked first. No clue what's wrong—might've tweaked something when I turned myself into a pincushion."
Xavier's mouth opened, then shut. "Uh… take care, then. Stay safe, senior brother."
"Catch you tomorrow!" Marcus chirped, hobbling toward the door with all the grace of a three-legged puppy.
---
As he swung it open, he nearly collided with Lugh Everveil, who stood there in a crisp jacket, looking like he'd just stepped off a magazine cover. Lugh's brows shot up in mock surprise. "Dr. Mahatir! Heading out already?"
Marcus managed a pained smile. "Yeah, Mr. Everveil—just popping back tomorrow to check on my junior brother."
"Safe travels!" Lugh said, then paused, his grin turning sly. "Oh, one quick thing before you go."
"What's up?" Marcus asked, leaning on the doorframe to steady his shaky leg.
Lugh's eyes twinkled with mischief. "So, your junior brother's racking up a tab here—hospital bills and all. I covered it upfront, good Samaritan that I am. But since you're family and all, how about you settle it? Just 500,000 bucks. Cash, card, whatever works—thanks!"
Marcus froze, his jaw dropping. "…"
"Junior brother, you weren't kidding—this guy's a pest!" he thought, his wallet practically whimpering in his pocket. With a sigh that could've deflated a balloon, Marcus fished out his card, handed over the 500 grand, and limped off, muttering curses under his breath.
---
Lugh, meanwhile, pocketed the cash with a grin brighter than a spotlight. Whistling a jaunty tune, he hopped into his sleek convertible and zoomed off toward Snow Enterprises' hospital, the wind tousling his hair into artful chaos. He had a date to crash—er, join—and he wasn't about to be late.
Inside her office, Jessica Snow was mid-signature when Lugh sauntered in, all charm and nonchalance. She looked up, her emerald eyes widening. "Lugh? What're you doing here?"
He flashed a dazzling smile, leaning against her desk like he owned the place. "You promised me dinner, Jess—don't tell me you're backing out!"
She glanced at her watch, brow furrowing. "You're way early! I've still got an hour before I'm off."
"No rush," he said, plopping into a chair with a dramatic flourish. "You do your thing—I'll just sit here, look pretty, and play some games." He whipped out his phone, already tapping away like a kid with a new toy.
Jessica smirked, shaking her head. She shrugged off her blazer, swapped it for a lighter jacket, and grabbed her bag. "Alright, let's go."
Lugh blinked, nearly dropping his phone. "Wait, you're done? No more work?"
"Nope!" she chirped, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Thanks to you, my biggest headaches are gone—equipment's sorted, old junk's hauled off. I'm taking a lazy day for once. Let's roll!"
"Hot damn, you're my kind of rebel!" Lugh leapt up, pocketing his phone with a grin. "Follow me—I've got the perfect spot. Tasty, cheap, and zero regrets!"
"Lead on, oh fearless foodie!" Jessica laughed, falling into step beside him.
---
Half an hour later, they rolled up to a weathered diner tucked in the heart of an old street—a relic of grease and glory. The sign was faded, the walls chipped, but the aroma wafting out promised paradise on a plate. Jessica stepped out of the car, her heels clicking on cracked pavement, and gaped at the scene.
"You, Mr. Fancy-Pants Everveil, eat here?" she asked, hands on hips, her tone dripping with playful disbelief.
Lugh spun around, mock-offended. "What, you think I'm too posh for a gem like this? This place has been slinging perfection for 20 years—same killer taste, every time! We're lucky we beat the rush, or we'd be fighting for a table!"
She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes in mock suspicion. "Oh, you're a regular, huh? Be honest—how many girls have you dragged here to impress?"
He shook his head, hand over heart. "None, Jess—you're the first. Scout's honor!"
Her breath caught, a tiny flutter dancing in her chest. "First, huh?" she thought, warmth creeping up her cheeks.
"If it was anyone else," he added with a wicked grin, "I'd skip the food and take 'em straight to a hotel!"
Jessica's jaw dropped. "…"
Then she glared, her eyes sparking with indignation.
Lugh burst out laughing, waving his hands. "Kidding, kidding! But seriously—you're the only one I've brought here, past life or present. Promise." His gaze softened, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her squirm.
She fidgeted under that stare, her heart doing a little tap dance. "Ugh, whatever, you goof—I'm starving. Let's order!" she huffed, brushing past him to hide the blush creeping up her neck.
---
They slid into a booth, the cracked vinyl creaking under them, and dove into the menu. The food was pure, unpretentious bliss—juicy burgers, crispy fries, and milkshakes so thick you'd need a spoon. They dug in, laughing between bites, the kind of meal that made you forget the world outside.
Halfway through, Jessica set her fork down with a contented sigh. "I'm stuffed—you're on your own!"
Lugh paused, mid-fry. "Already? What's wrong—don't like it?"
She pouted, poking at her plate. "I'm trying to slim down, okay?"
Realization dawned on him—yesterday's "120 pounds" comment must've stung more than he'd meant. He leaned forward, his tone earnest. "Look, Jess, too skinny's overrated. Those stick-thin types? One gust, and they're rolling down the street like tumbleweeds!"
She arched a brow, skeptical. "Don't all guys drool over skinny girls?"
"Not this guy," he shot back, shaking his head. "I like a little curve—someone with substance! You, right now? Perfect. Don't change a thing—I mean it."
Her pulse spiked, cheeks flushing. "Is he… flirting? Confessing?!" She scrambled to deflect, snapping, "You're not my boyfriend! What's it to you if I lose weight or not?"
With a dramatic huff, she yanked the plates closer, barricading herself with food.
Lugh gaped. "Whoa, what's the plan here?"
She snatched her fork, stabbing a fry with gusto. "I'm eating! Gotta fuel up so I've got energy to slim down later—duh!"
He nodded solemnly, like she'd just cracked the code to the universe. "Genius logic. Here, take a chicken leg—keep that strength up!"
"Thanks!" she chirped, snagging it with a grin. "If I nail this weight-loss thing, you're getting a medal or something."
---
Back at the hospital, Marcus Mahatir limped out to his car, still grumbling about the 500-grand hit to his bank account. "Xavier was spot-on—Lugh's a menace!" he thought, rubbing his sore leg. The guy had swooped in, all smiles and charm, and left Marcus broke and hobbling. Annoying didn't even cover it.
Meanwhile, Xavier stewed in his bed, plotting revenge between winces. Lugh was out there, wining and dining Jessica, while he was stuck with a busted chest and a brother who couldn't stab straight. The injustice fueled him—once Marcus fixed him up, Lugh was toast.
---
Lugh and Jessica, oblivious to the hospital drama, savored their diner date. The food was divine, the banter electric, and the air between them crackled with something unspoken. She teased him about his "hotel" quip; he praised her curves with shameless sincerity. By the time they finished, the sun was dipping low, painting the old street in golden hues.
As they strolled back to the car, Jessica nudged him playfully. "Not bad for a cheap date, Everveil."
"Told ya—stick with me, and it's always a win," he winked, opening her door with a flourish.
The city buzzed around them, but in that moment, it was just the two of them—laughing, flirting, and inching closer to something neither quite named. For Lugh, it was a victory lap; for Jessica, a delightful detour. And somewhere, Xavier's green-eyed fury simmered, waiting for its chance.