Chapter 246

Chapter 246
Michael

I drove my car into the underground parking garage of Richard's building, feeling lighter than I had in weeks despite the early hour. The drive back from Isabella's apartment had given me time to process everything—the stalker, the threats, and most importantly, the fact that our girl was finally safe with us.

My car was packed with her belongings, evidence of a life I was determined she would never have to return to. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the steering wheel, caught between elation at having her back with us and murderous rage toward the bastard who had been terrorizing her.

I took the private elevator straight to Richard's penthouse, impatiently drumming my fingers against my thigh, eager to see her again even though I'd only been gone a few hours. As I stepped out into the hallway, I immediately caught the scent of bacon, eggs, and something sweet—cinnamon and maple syrup.

My stomach growled instantly, a merciless reminder that I'd neglected my own nourishment while focusing on Isabella's safety. It was just past noon—Isabella had been sleeping for several hours, and clearly someone had decided to prepare what smelled like a feast.

I pushed open the door, carrying only the envelope with the stalker's note, leaving Isabella's belongings in the car for now. The scene that greeted me almost made me laugh out loud, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline in surprise.

Kevin—perpetually brooding, eternally scowling Kevin—stood at Richard's spacious kitchen island wielding a spatula and flipping what looked like perfectly golden pancakes. Even more shocking than seeing him cook was his expression—something close to actual happiness. A smile played on his usually intimidating features, almost making him look... approachable.

Richard leaned against the counter nearby, coffee mug in hand, smiling as he watched Kevin work. The whole atmosphere was relaxed and joyful, almost celebratory. Seeing it, a warmth spread through my chest—this was how we were supposed to be, how we could be with Isabella in our lives.

"Now this is a sight I never thought I'd see," I announced, unable to suppress the grin spreading across my face as I set the envelope on the counter. "Kevin Kingston, domestic god. Fuck, should I take a picture to commemorate this historic moment? No one would fucking believe me without evidence."

Kevin didn't even look up at me, just pointed the spatula in my direction in a mock threat, sending a drop of batter flying across the kitchen. "Try it, Professor, and I'll end you."

Richard chuckled, looking more relaxed than he had in days, the tense lines around his eyes finally softening. "About time you got back. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost or decided to renovate the place while you were there."

"Just being thorough," I replied, running a hand through my hair, looking around at the impressive spread Kevin had prepared. There were stacks of pancakes, a platter of bacon and sausage, a bowl of fresh berries, and what appeared to be some kind of egg casserole baking in the oven. The kitchen was filled with warmth and aromas that made my mouth water. "Is Isabella awake?"

Richard's smile softened, his eyes briefly darting toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. "No, she was still sleeping like a hibernating bear when I got up half an hour ago. I checked on her—didn't want to wake her."

We exchanged a knowing look, some things not needing words. After everything our girl had been through, good sleep was probably the best medicine she could get.

"Looks like someone's planning to feed an army," I commented, gesturing toward the impressive amount of food Kevin was preparing. I snagged a strawberry and popped it into my mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness. "Or are you expecting her to eat her body weight in pancakes? Not that I'm complaining."

Kevin shrugged, but there was unmistakable pride in his movements as he flipped another perfect pancake onto the already towering stack, his large hands surprisingly dexterous with the delicate task. "She needs to eat. She's too thin," he mumbled, his jaw briefly tightening.

I couldn't argue with that. The image of Isabella's now too-prominent collarbones flashed through my mind. She had lost weight in the past few weeks—weight she couldn't afford to lose. Her once fuller curves had grown more angular, her face more gaunt. The thought made my chest tighten with guilt and determination. How the fuck had we missed this?

"I don't see any tea," I observed, walking toward the cabinet where Richard kept his impressive collection. My fingers drummed a nervous rhythm against my thigh as I searched. "I'll make her some tea. She likes tea in the morning rather than coffee."

The little details about her—how she liked honey but never sugar in her tea, the way she curled up when she slept, how her eyes sparkled when she laughed—now felt precious, like secrets we had almost lost.

"It's afternoon," Richard corrected with a smug smile, his eyebrows raising in that insufferably superior way.

"Whatever," I waved him off, pulling out Richard's electric kettle—a Christmas gift from me last year after I'd complained too many times about his lack of proper tea-making equipment. "The point is, she'll want tea when she wakes up." My tone was sharper than I'd intended, revealing my underlying anxiety. Damn, I needed to pull myself together.

Kevin was now artfully arranging food on serving platters, creating a tempting display that belonged in an upscale brunch restaurant. I couldn't help but smile at the big guy's efforts.

"Jesus Christ, Kevin," I laughed, squeezing past him to fill the kettle with water, my shoulder brushing against his massive frame. "What are you trying to do? Fatten her up like a little piggy as soon as she wakes? Though," I lowered my voice as if sharing a secret, "I must admit I've missed those curves of hers."

Richard snorted into his coffee, and even Kevin's lips twitched, which counted as a smile on his usually stern face. His eyes, typically cold and distant, now held a warmth I rarely saw there.

"She needs strength," he grunted, but there was no heat in his words. His massive hand adjusted a wayward strawberry with surprising gentleness.

Looking at him, I felt a warmth spread through my chest, my throat unexpectedly tight. This was how Kevin cared—through actions, not words. We all expressed our love for Isabella differently. Richard through planning and protection, me through comfort and conversation, and Kevin through... well, apparently through preparing breakfast feasts fit for royalty.

"The tea is for later," I said, nodding toward the kettle, trying to disguise the sudden emotion in my voice. "I have a feeling we're going to need it when we discuss what happens next." My fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on the countertop.

Richard straightened, setting his coffee cup down with a decisive click. "Speaking of which, we should discuss where she's staying. My place is secure, but—"

"She should come to mine," Kevin interrupted, his voice brooking no argument as he slid the egg casserole out of the oven. The rich aroma immediately filled the kitchen. "It's more isolated, easier to secure the perimeter. No curious neighbors or doormen who can be bribed."

I raised an eyebrow at Richard, expecting him to object, his territorial Alpha chafing at the suggestion, but he just nodded, surprising me.

"I was thinking the same," he admitted, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the counter. "Your place is basically a fortress, and she'll have more space there than in my glass box in the sky."

"What, no argument for keeping her in your luxurious penthouse?" I teased, leaning against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest. "Hell, Richard, are you feeling okay? Should we check for a fever?"