Chapter 33 Little Koala
Aiyana's P.O.V
I woke to the smell of food.
I could argue with anyone and everyone that I wasn't a foodie but with food, no one had to say a word, I perceived it from whatever realm I was in, no matter how far.
Toasted bread.
Coffee.
Something sweet, buttery, indulgent enough to make my stomach twist with sudden hunger.
For a moment, I didn’t open my eyes.
I just lay there, cocooned in warmth, listening and sniffing the heaven that invaded my rest.
I wasn't complaining at all.
There was a very specific sound near the bed. Very soft, precise movements.
Someone placing something down carefully.
Someone clearing their throat like they were preparing for a task they were wildly unqualified for.
That alone narrowed the possibilities down to one man which prompted me to open my eyes faster even though I wanted to sleep more as much as I wanted to eat whatever I was perceiving.
When I finally opened my eyes, I almost laughed.
Jerome stood at the side of the bed, rigid as a statue, holding a tray like it was a weapon he didn’t quite trust.
He was dressed in black, of course with pressed trousers, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to expose his forearms. His hair was neat. His face was the breaking point, he looked utterly serious.
And yet.
On the tray sat breakfast in bed.
Actual breakfast. Toast arranged carefully. Eggs that looked like he’d supervised their preparation personally.
A small bowl of fruit. A cup of tea, and because he knew that I loved sweets, a tiny plate of chocolates was placed neatly to one side.
It was crazy seeing him so awkward and trying to impress me. Without words as usual but I wasn't complaining his actions spoke for themselves.
Jerome Black, feared by an entire country, stood in my bedroom delivering breakfast like a man who had Googled romantic gestures at three in the morning and taken the instructions far too literally.
No matter how much I tried to push down the feeling of being lucky, I couldn't help but bask in the happiness that bubbled up in my chest at the thought that for once in my life, someone was actually taking care of me.
“You’re awake.” He said, voice flat.
“I am.” I replied, blinking.
He nodded once. “Good.”
Then he did not move.
We stared at each other for a long second.
“…Are you going to put it down?” I asked gently.
“Oh.” He stepped forward abruptly, setting the tray on my lap with the careful precision of someone handling explosives.
“Yes. Of course.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
He straightened immediately, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier awaiting inspection. His posture screamed control. His expression screamed seriousness.
The tray screamed I tried.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked.” He said. “So I included options.”
Options.
My chest did something stupid and warm.
“Jerome.” I said softly “This is really nice.”
He looked relieved. And confused. And faintly suspicious, like kindness might be a trick he hadn’t spotted yet.
“It’s… acceptable?” He asked.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The sound surprised both of us.
“Yes.” I said, still smiling. “It’s more than acceptable.”
He exhaled quietly, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
“I don’t do this.” He added, as if that needed clarification.
“I can tell.” I teased gently.
His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in mild affront.
“I followed instructions.”
“Oh?”
“Gerald,” he admitted flatly.
That made me laugh harder.
Of course it did.
“I assume he had many comments,” I said.
“He had too many,” Jerome replied. “And most of them were useless.”
I reached for the tea, taking a small sip. It was warm. Perfectly sweetened.
“You made this?” I asked.
He hesitated. “I supervised.”
That answered everything.
As I ate, I became painfully aware of his presence.
He didn’t sit.
Didn’t relax. Just stood there, watching me eat like it was the most important mission he’d undertaken in years.
“You can sit, you know.” I said.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m ensuring…”
“Jerome.”
He paused, then reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting stiffly on his knees. He looked deeply uncomfortable, like sitting there made him vulnerable in a way no gun ever had.
I studied him over the rim of my cup.
He looked… out of place. Not in the room, but in the role he was trying to play. Like a man wearing kindness that didn’t quite fit yet, but he was determined to keep it on anyway.
It was unexpectedly endearing.
Lowkey cute, my mind supplied treacherously.
I shook the thought away and reached for the fruit.
“I appreciate this,” I said honestly. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He replied immediately.
The certainty in his voice stole my breath for a moment.
Before I could respond, the door burst open.
“Aiyana!”
A small body launched itself into the room with zero regard for personal space, privacy, or the terrifying man seated beside my bed.
Noah.
He ran straight to me and wrapped himself around my legs like a little koala, burying his face into the blanket with a satisfied sigh.
“I knew you’d be here.” He said happily. “Uncle Jerome said you were sleeping but I didn’t believe him.”
Jerome groaned quietly. “Noah.”
“What?” Noah said without lifting his head. “She’s comfy.”
My heart melted instantly.
I set the tray aside carefully and placed a hand on his head, fingers sliding through soft curls without thinking.
“Good morning.” I said, warmth blooming in my chest.
He tilted his head up to grin at me. “Did you sleep good?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I did.”
“That’s good.” He declared solemnly. “You’re nicer when you sleep.”
Jerome coughed suspiciously.
Noah shifted closer, legs pressed against mine, arms wrapped tighter like he was anchoring himself to me. And the strangest thing happened…
It felt natural.
Comforting.
Like my body recognized the weight of him and accepted it without question.
I brushed my thumb gently across his temple. “Did you eat breakfast?”
“Yes!” He said proudly. “I had cereal. But yours smells better.”
Jerome shot him a look. “You are not eating hers.”
Noah pouted. “Not even one bite?”
“No.”
He turned to me instead, eyes wide and hopeful. “Can I have a strawberry?”
I laughed. “One.”
Jerome sighed like he’d lost a battle.
As I handed Noah a strawberry, I felt something warm and unfamiliar settle in my chest. Affection. Real, unguarded affection.
This child trusted me.
Clung to me.
Found comfort in me without fear or expectation.
And the fact that he was Jerome’s nephew that he was connected to the man who had both terrified and protected me, made it all the more confusing.
And beautiful.
Noah finished the strawberry and leaned back against my legs, content. “You should stay forever.” He said casually.
Jerome stiffened.
I smiled softly. “That’s a big promise.”
He shrugged. “You make Uncle Jerome less grumpy.”
I snorted. Jerome glared at him. “I am not grumpy.”
“You are,” Noah said cheerfully. “But less.”
I covered my mouth to hide my smile.