Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 212: Care

–Livana–

My body was sore all over—but it was the kind of sore that felt like bliss. A satisfying ache. My lower half still throbbed with the memory of my husband. I turned toward him and straddled his waist. He moaned, arms instinctively wrapping around me. But then I remembered—I needed to feed my baby.

I tapped him, signaling him to let me go, but he didn’t.

"I need to feed Sky."

"No." He rolled us over, pinning me beneath him, his lips crashing into mine. "I stocked milk in the fridge." His voice was low, possessive.

I closed my eyes and let him devour me. Yes, I needed him—my husband. My king. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"Good morning," I murmured against his lips.

"Good morning, my love." He showered my cheeks and forehead with kisses before his mouth descended to my breasts, sucking the milk meant for our son. A soft giggle escaped me. Then he trailed lower, settling between my legs like he always does before we turn into rabbits in heat again.

Two more rounds. Only then did I finally make him stop.

We bathed together, and once we were presentable, Damon stripped the bed and cleaned the S-shaped sofa, hiding it away. He even put the crib back in its place before finally calling the maids to clean the room. I wanted to laugh—we’d made such a mess of everything.

I checked the baby cam on my tablet, only to find Jane sleeping beside Sky. Logan was sprawled on the other side of the bed, snoring loudly. Sky didn’t seem bothered at all. They looked like a small, chaotic, happy family. I snapped a photo and saved it.

"Love, look," I called Damon. He approached immediately.

"Oh," he grinned. "I think they could adopt Sky for years." He hugged me from behind, but a knock on the door interrupted us. I handed him the tablet, and he opened the door to let the maids in. I whispered for him to dispose of the condoms wrapped in tissue—and I’m certain he did.

"Come on, love. Breakfast." I stood and walked toward the door. Damon held my hand as we headed downstairs. It was already ten in the morning. Sky must have woken up earlier and gone back to sleep—those two were up all night, no doubt.

In the kitchen, Chef Wally was already preparing lunch. He smiled at us.

"Woke up late?" he teased, serving our meal in under five minutes, as if he’d calculated our morning routine perfectly.

The food, as always, was impeccable. Damon wanted to whisk me off somewhere, but my breasts were swollen—too full. I needed to feed my son. He reluctantly agreed.

So I headed to the nursery, where Jane was already awake and changing Sky’s diapers.

"You’re up," Jane grinned.

"I hope you had fun with Sky last night," I said as Jane slid the pajamas on him. Then I gently scooped my son into my arms and kissed his temple. He cooed, eyes wide and sparkling, giggling like he instantly recognized me.

"Hello, my little Sky," I murmured as I carried him back to my bedroom. The maids had already finished cleaning everything. Damon passed by in the hallway, speaking seriously on the phone—already back in work mode.

I sat on the rocking chair and fed my son; he latched immediately, eager. I admired his tiny features and touched the tip of his nose—so much like his father’s.

"You’ll be strong, healthy, and invincible," I whispered. "You will protect everything you love. I just did."

Damon rushed in through the open doorway, leaned down, and kissed my forehead.

"The Shadows are on the move," he sighed. "They’re handling the bastards who burned down our warehouse. I have to go—and it might take all night." He kissed Sky’s foot. "Be good to your mom, Sky."

Sky gave him a perfect side-eye but continued feeding.

Damon left to change clothes in the showroom. I looked toward the bedroom door where Jane stood.

"Can I go?" she asked.

I nodded. Their priority was to secure the servers and gather more evidence. I let her hand Damon everything she’d discovered in the warehouses. I only hoped they’d catch the culprits.

Yet deep inside, a hesitation lingered.

I didn’t want Damon involved.

"Damon?" I called, and he stepped out of the wardrobe room, already buttoning the cuff of his shirt.

"Yes, love?" he asked, voice low, attentive—always attentive when it came to me.

I crossed my arms loosely, pretending to be casual. "Please buy me cheesecake. I don’t want you going to that location."

His brows pulled together. "Huh? But it’s urgent."

"Please?" I softened my tone, letting that single word linger—quiet, deliberate, pleading in a way only he ever hears from me.

He sighed, torn. "I’ll buy it when I get back."

I shook my head. "But I want it right away. Pick the best one." I insisted, more firmly this time. It wasn’t about cheesecake. He knew it. I just didn’t want him anywhere near that place. And judging from the way his expression shifted, he understood me perfectly.

His shoulders relaxed. His jaw unclenched.

He stepped closer, cupped my cheek, and murmured, "Alright, my love."

He understood.

And he would stay alive for me.

–Deanne–

I slipped out of bed, the sheets still warm from where Caine had held me. It was Sunday morning, and my only plan was to stay in the penthouse with him, wrapped in nothing but stolen kisses and lazy indulgence. But he immediately jumped up, muttering about some emergency or whatever crisis demanded his presence. I simply watched him dress in a rush, my gaze lingering on the curve of his shoulders, before he left—after giving me a mouthful of kisses that felt like a promise... or a warning.

Left alone, I stretched across the bed and opened my laptop. Habit. Instinct. Obsession. Call it whatever. I checked his location and frowned the moment I saw where he was heading. A place he shouldn’t be going alone. I attempted to call him, but he rejected the call. Bold of him. Irritating of him. I let out a low grunt and typed a message instead.

There are agents tailing you. Whatever intel you received looks like a setup to trap you.

He must’ve seen the message, because the moment it was marked "read," his location started shifting. Good. At least he listens when he knows he’s in actual danger. I also called Damon, who was probably heading in the same direction. But Damon’s signal had already jumped miles away. Smart. Predictable. Livana must have warned him already.

I dialed one of the Mansion’s burner phones—one of Livana’s rotations—and, after a few seconds, her voice drifted through the line.

"Hey," Livana murmured, soft but steady.

"Where’s your hubby?" I asked, already knowing but wanting confirmation.

"I sent him to get me cheesecake." She replied simply.

Of course she did. That alone confirmed that Damon was nowhere near the location where those captured bastards were being held. Knowing those agents, they probably planted trackers on the bodies—rookie tactic, but effective.

"That’s good," I sighed. "Listen, those subjects likely have trackers buried in them somewhere." I said while simultaneously calling Sophia on the other line. Multitasking is a love language.

"Hmm... that’s interesting." Livana murmured. "We’re holding them in one of our hidden lairs."

"Indeed. And we can’t have Blackwell tangled in this mess any further." I pressed a hand to my temple. Headaches are a hobby lately.

"We can’t stop the operations," Livana countered gently. "I’m already on the line with my husband." Her voice softened even more, like she was coaxing a stubborn wolf into obedience. "Babe, stop all of the operations tonight," she said to him, her tone practically angelic.

"But, Liva, this is worth billions."

"It’s temporary. Give it eight hours max. They’re everywhere right now. They must’ve figured out the routing schedule. We need to delay it."

"Alright." Damon’s voice echoed faintly through the line, stopping me mid-thought.

For a moment, I was stunned. Damon agreeing without fighting? That alone could make international headlines. He never gives in when it comes to business. He’d rather break bones than lose billions. His managers would panic. His empire would tremble. And yet... he agreed.

"I’m picking up your favorite cheesecakes," Damon added. "Are you coming home, Deanne?"

"Yes," I replied. "I’ll wait for Caine."

I hung up, tried calling Caine again—but he still wasn’t answering. And that’s when the anxiety began to burn under my ribs, sharp and unfamiliar. I hate when he goes silent like this. I hate that it affects me. I got up and started preparing to leave, but then my phone rang.

"Caine?" I answered immediately.

"Don’t leave the house. I’ll be there as soon as possible."

"What’s going on?" I demanded, but he remained silent for a long beat.

"Just don’t leave the house, baby."

His voice—low, firm, a little frayed around the edges—forced me to still.

"Got it." I murmured, putting the car keys back in their place. "I’ll wait for you, okay?" I didn’t even realize how worried I sounded until the words spilled out. I’m usually the picture of nonchalant elegance... but Caine is different. Even if it started as just hookups.

"Yes. I’ll be home, mi amore. Te amo."

A breath caught in my throat.

"Yo también te amo," I whispered.

And God... it felt different. It felt dangerous. It felt like letting someone walk straight into the chambers of my guarded heart.

It was the first time I’d ever said those words—and somehow, it didn’t terrify me.

It thrilled me.