Family Secret

Chapter 23

Ryan sat cross-legged on the edge of the sandbox, eyes narrowed, already scheming. Kyan stood in front of him, her little fists on her hips, looking more like a general than a seven-year-old.

“Okay,” Ryan muttered, rubbing his temples. “We need a plan before that vulture makes her move.”

Kyan leaned closer, whispering with wide-eyed seriousness. “You mean the mean lady?”

Ryan sighed. “Yes, Carissa. You saw it—she’s going to try to kiss Nate. If that happens, Alexia will blow up and…” He trailed off, jaw tightening. “We can’t let it happen.”

Kyan nodded with so much determination her pigtails bounced. “So what do we do?”

Ryan glanced toward Nate. He was still locked in polite conversation with Gregory and a few of the other men, Carissa lingering nearby like a snake waiting to strike. Alexia sat a few feet away, chatting with Margaret, unaware of the danger brewing.

“You,” Ryan said, pointing at Kyan, “keep Nate away from Carissa. Distract him, whatever it takes.”

Kyan’s eyes lit up. She saluted dramatically. “Operation Save Daddy starts now.”

Ryan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret calling it that?”

But Kyan was already bouncing across the lawn, a ball of energy. She darted right up to Nate and—before Carissa could sidle closer—physically shoved the woman aside with surprising strength for someone her size.

“Daddy!” she squealed, gripping Nate’s hand. “Come push me on the swing! Please, please, pleeease?”

Carissa stumbled, blinking in shock at the audacity.

Nate opened his mouth, clearly caught between politely declining and reminding Kyan about manners, but she didn’t give him the chance. Her little fingers latched tighter around his hand. “Come on, Daddy!” she insisted, tugging hard enough to make him stumble a step.

Before anyone could intervene, she dragged him across the lawn toward the playground with single-minded determination.

Ryan, watching the scene unfold, smirked. “Nice work, sis.”

Now it was his turn.

Scanning the food table, he spotted his weapon: a hot dog. He snatched it up, smothering the bun with thick globs of mustard and ketchup until it was practically dripping. Holding it carefully between his hands, he darted toward Carissa.

He made it look messy and frantic—like a kid who couldn’t control his own limbs. At the last second, just as Carissa turned with her smug little smirk, Ryan tripped over his own foot and barreled into her.

Splat.

Mustard smeared down the front of her expensive swimsuit cover, ketchup streaking across the fabric like a crime scene.

Carissa shrieked, the kind of high-pitched sound that made everyone’s head turn. “You little brat!” she gasped, horrified as she held her arms away from her body.

Ryan fought the grin threatening to break across his face. He plastered on the most innocent expression he could manage and stammered, “Oops… sorry!” before bolting toward the playground like his life depended on it.

Carissa stood frozen, her perfect façade ruined, her shrieks following him. “Gregory! This is ruined! RUINED!”

Ryan ducked behind the slide, pressing his lips together hard to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest. He clenched his fists, chest swelling with pride.

Phase one: success.

Carissa huffed, stomping toward the house with exaggerated disgust. “I’ll just… ugh! I’ll just change inside!” she wailed, disappearing through the patio doors.

Ryan peered out from behind the slide, his grin spreading ear to ear.

Operation Save Daddy was officially underway.

Kyan wasn’t letting up. She clung to Nate’s hand like a vice, dragging him from one playground contraption to the next with stubborn persistence.

“Push me again, Daddy!” she cried from the swing, kicking her legs so high Nate half-expected she’d launch into orbit.

When he tried to step back, she hopped off mid-swing, grabbed his hand again, and tugged him toward the monkey bars.

“Help me climb!”

“Kyan, I think you—” Nate began, only for her to interrupt with wide, pleading eyes.

He sighed, shoulders stiff, clearly trying to maintain his composure while a little girl completely dictated his every movement. Every time he tried to walk away, Kyan latched onto him again, pulling him into yet another “urgent” activity.

Across the yard, Ryan’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd. That’s when he saw it.

Chris Summer—Carissa and Gregory’s eldest son—was striding confidently toward Alexia. Sunlight caught on his wet hair, and he wore the kind of smirk that told Ryan exactly what kind of trouble he thought he was.

Ryan narrowed his gaze and focused, slipping silently into Chris’s thoughts.

This is stupid, Chris muttered internally, his tone dripping with annoyance. Why does Mother care so much if this woman loses her temper? She’s gorgeous—beyond gorgeous—but this whole thing is beneath me. If she wasn’t… well, I wouldn’t even bother with this charade.

Ryan’s fists clenched. So it was true. Carissa had sent her son to stir things up, to bait Alexia into drama.

Ryan’s eyes darted to the lawn. Clint and Miha were tearing past, shrieking with laughter as they played tag. Perfect.

His lips curled into a sly smile.

He took off at a sprint, zigzagging across the grass with “childlike chaos.” At the last second, just as Chris was about to reach Alexia, Ryan deliberately barreled into him, shoulder first.

The impact sent Chris stumbling. His arms pinwheeled comically as he tried to catch his balance—before his momentum carried him straight into the pool with a loud splash.

Water erupted like a fountain, soaking the deck.

Every head turned toward the noise. Alexia blinked, startled, then smothered a laugh behind her hand as Chris surfaced, sputtering and furious.

“Are you kidding me?!” Chris shouted, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes.

Ryan stood at the pool’s edge, plastering on his best innocent face. “Oops,” he said sweetly. “Sorry, mister.”

He spun on his heel and darted back toward the playground before Chris could climb out and wring his neck.

Behind the slide, he let out a victorious grin.

Phase Two: success.

The twins’ mission had worked like a charm. Chris was sulking by the pool, Carissa hadn’t resurfaced from inside yet, and Nate was still firmly under Kyan’s watchful eye.

Ryan exhaled, finally allowing himself to relax. He turned to his sister, noticing the faintest blush spreading across her cheeks as she giggled into her hands.

His brows furrowed. “What?”

Kyan swayed on her feet, her voice sing-song. “Noooothing.”

Ryan tilted his head, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He considered dipping into her thoughts—but decided against it. Whatever it was, she wasn’t upset, and that was all that mattered. Their mission was a success. That was enough.

Before he could press further, a group of the fathers began talking near the grill. Thomas’s voice rose above the rest, jovial and commanding. “Gentlemen, shall we retire to the study? Cigars and bourbon are calling.”

There were nods of agreement, laughter, the scrape of chairs as the men began to rise.

And then, tradition took over.

One by one, each husband crossed to his wife, bending to press a kiss to her lips before stepping away. It was an old-fashioned custom in this city, a little remnant of a gentleman’s code: no man left a room without giving his wife a proper farewell.

Nate’s jaw flexed as he remembered too late. His eyes flicked toward Alexia, who was standing beside Margaret, laughing softly at something she’d said. Alexia didn’t seem to realize either—not until she noticed the row of women receiving their husbands’ kisses, and the way Margaret glanced between her and Nate expectantly.

Nate’s throat felt dry. It was nothing. Just a kiss. He had kissed more women than he could count during missions. It was mechanical. Forgettable.

So why did his pulse drum harder as he walked toward her?

Alexia blinked up at him, startled when he stopped in front of her. She parted her lips, as if about to ask a question—but then his hand was already at her waist, and he was leaning down.

Their lips met.

For a heartbeat, Nate’s world froze.

He hadn’t expected her lips to feel like that—soft, silky, sweet, like strawberries and sugar. He’d kissed countless women, each touch serving a purpose, a mission, a cover. But this wasn’t like them. This wasn’t forgettable. This was dangerous.

Alexia stiffened at first, surprised. She’d expected a polite brush against her cheek at most, but Nate had gone straight for her mouth. And God help her, it was… nice. More than nice. His lips were gentle, coaxing, tasting faintly of mint and warmth. Without thinking, her hand slid up his chest, fingers brushing over the ridges of hard muscle beneath his shirt.

Nate didn’t even realize his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her just a little closer, until it was too late.

Then, suddenly, the moment cracked.

Both of them pulled back at once, eyes locking, breath caught. One kiss—just one—and for a second they both forgot who they were supposed to be. Not spy and assassin, not fake husband and fake wife. Just man and woman.

Alexia’s chest rose and fell quickly. Nate’s jaw clenched, his thoughts scrambled.

Kyan, watching from the swing set, squealed into her hands, her little voice carrying, “Daddy kissed Mommy!”

The words snapped Nate back like ice water. He cleared his throat, straightened, and forced a curt nod. Without another word, he turned sharply and followed the men toward the house.

Behind him, Alexia pressed her fingers to her lips, her pulse still racing.