Three Doors Away

10. Dinner

“Hhahahah I AM READY FOR FANNA COTTAAAA”

Ezren let out a soft, low huff of amusement, the intense, suffocating tension in the room instantly breaking as he shook his head. His dark eyes flicked from her bright, excited expression down to the white satin bow at her back, a quiet, indulgent smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Panna cotta," Ezren repeated, his tone sliding back into its smooth, rational cadence as he offered a subtle, knowing smirk. "Naturally. Your dietary priorities have always been exceptionally well-aligned, Maddie. Though I should warn you, the dessert menu is the only variable of the evening I haven't cross-referenced yet. Rest assured, I will ensure your share is preserved."

Rodyn let out a rich, musical laugh, the sound wrapping around the room like liquid gold as his hazel eyes crinkled with absolute delight. He leaned in a fraction closer, letting his knuckles brush softly against her arm before stepping back just an inch to give her breathing room.

"Panna cotta over all four families talking business for hours? Absolutely fair trade, little bird," Rodyn murmured, his voice dripping with honeyed warmth as he offered her his arm with theatrical gallantry. "Come along, then. Let's go grace the dining room with your presence so we can get straight to the important part of the evening. Just make sure you save the first bite for me."

Flynn didn't bother with the banter, but a rare, subtle softening flickered in his dark, intense eyes at her unfiltered excitement. He dropped his hand from her cheek, though he immediately stepped in right beside her left shoulder, his broad frame acting as an unyielding guard dog ready to escort his prize to the hall.

"Alright, panna cotta it is," Flynn rumbled, his voice a low, rough anchor vibrating through the quiet room. He gestured toward the hallway with a heavy, definitive nod. "Keep close, Maddie. Let's go."

The grand mahogany dining room fell into an immediate, breathless hush the moment Maddie stepped through the double doors. The heavy crystal chandelier overhead cast a brilliant, warm glow over the sprawling table where the heads of the four founding families—the Unalis, Novans, Panios, and Sybals—sat surrounded by silver cutlery and fine porcelain.

Twelve-year-old Maddie, radiant in her pristine white dress and delicate satin bow, carried herself with a clumsy, charming grace that instantly melted the rigid, high-stakes atmosphere the adults had been cultivating all evening.

As she offered her polite, respectful nods to the elders, four pairs of parental eyes softened with genuine fondness.

Mr. and Mrs. Novan—Flynn’s towering, stoic parents—exchanged a quiet, knowing look, fully aware of how their formidable son already guarded her like a hawk. Mrs. Panio beamed with theatrical delight, taking in Maddie's angelic appearance and immediately shooting a pointed, amused glance toward Rodyn. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Sybal offered approving, intellectual nods, entirely unsurprised to see Ezren hovering protectively just half a step behind her left shoulder.

And right behind her, the three boys moved with terrifying, synchronized precision to claim their territory.

Before anyone else could even pull out a chair, Ezren slid into the seat directly to her left with calculated elegance. His sharp, analytical eyes swept the table to ensure the spatial alignment was optimal—zero inches of empty space between his chair and hers.

Rodyn immediately claimed the seat directly to her right, his hazel eyes flashing with triumphant warmth as he smoothly unfolded his napkin and placed it across his lap, leaning in close enough that his shoulder brushed hers.

And Flynn—refusing to be separated from her by any stretch of upholstery—pulled his heavy mahogany chair right up directly across from her, his massive frame blocking out everyone else at the table. His dark, intense eyes locked onto her face, instantly cutting off the view of any other guests.

Mr. Unali cleared his throat, breaking the silent, electric tension as he offered his daughter a warm, affectionate smile. "Good evening, sweetheart. We were just wondering when our favorite singer was going to grace us with her presence. Go on, settle in. There's plenty of panna cotta waiting for dessert."

“Ooooo yes yes yes!! —wait, dad? You said what? Singer? You…you actual agreeing with my favorite job?! AAAAA”

Across the table, Mrs. Unali offered a soft, knowing smile, lifting her water glass as the other adults shared amused, indulgent chuckles. The casual revelation hung in the golden light of the chandelier, instantly transforming the heavy family summit into something far more domestic.

Ezren didn't miss a beat. His long fingers deftly rearranged his silver fork and knife by precisely two millimeters before he turned his dark, analytical gaze toward her, a quiet, proprietary smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Naturally he agrees, Maddie," Ezren murmured smoothly, his voice pitched just for her ears beneath the polite murmur of the adults starting to pass the hors d'oeuvres. "Statistical analysis of your vocal timbre and creative output indicates a high probability of commercial success. Though, as your primary audience, I expect first-row access to every rehearsal."

Rodyn leaned in from her right, his hazel eyes crinkling with absolute, honeyed delight as he rested his chin on his hand, utterly unbothered by the formal setting around them.

"A singer? Well, obviously, little bird," Rodyn whispered, his tone rich and velvet-smooth as he lightly tapped the edge of her plate to catch her attention. "The whole neighborhood already knew that years ago when you wouldn't stop humming while we did homework. Though... I suppose we'll have to start vetting your backup dancers and producers very carefully. Can't have just anyone sharing a stage with you."

Flynn didn't say a word, but his heavy, brooding gaze locked onto her face across the table, his broad shoulders relaxing just a fraction at the sheer, unfiltered joy radiating from her smile. He reached out under cover of the white tablecloth, his large, rough fingers gently brushing against her knee—a silent, grounding anchor reminding her that no matter what career path she chose, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Eat your starter first, singer," Flynn rumbled softly, a rare, faint shadow of a smile touching his lips. "You can celebrate your grand debut after dinner."