"But wait, there's more!" I bring his attention to the next plate. "Behold, eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce so smooth it could teach a pickup artist lessons in being slick."
A laugh rumbles from his chest, deep and genuine. It's a sound I want to bottle and keep forever.
"And for our piece de resistance..." I reveal the final dish with a dramatic gasp. "Stack of fluffy pancakes drowning in maple syrup. Warning: May cause spontaneous declarations of love and/or marriage proposals."
"You're ridiculous." But his grin is wide.
"You love it."
His eyes hold mine. "That I certainly do." Then he asks, "What would you suggest I start with?"
"Let me break down the nutritional benefits," I say, channeling my best cooking show host voice. "These croissants are packed with butter—essential for maintaining that smooth charm of yours. The eggs Benedict? Pure protein for those impressive... problem-solving skills."
Ares leans back against the headboard, eyes dancing. "And here I thought the hollandaise was just for show."
"Oh no, very important sauce. Helps with..." I wave my hand vaguely, "flexibility. For all those negotiations, of course."
"Of course." His smile turns wicked. "And the pancakes?"
"Energy. Stamina. The ability to... stay up late reviewing things."
He chuckles, deep and rich. "Sounds like I need all three. Though I should probably start with building up that charm."
"Wise choice." I grab the plate of croissants and settle cross-legged on the bed across from him. "These are still warm."
Breaking off a piece, I take a bite, letting out an exaggerated moan. "Oh my god."
"Is that so?" Ares raises an eyebrow. "Planning to share, or just torment me with sound effects?"
I tear off another piece, holding it up. "I don't know. Are you capable of being a good boy and saying please?"
His eyes darken. "Please, Red."
"Well, since you asked so nicely." I lean forward. "Open up."
He parts his lips, and I place the buttery morsel on his tongue, trying not to fixate on the way his mouth curves into a smile. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, the playful mood shifts into something more intense.
"Verdict?" I ask, my voice slightly breathless.
"Heavenly." He breaks off a piece of his own croissant. "Your turn."
And just like that, we're feeding each other breakfast, laughing like teenagers, as if there is no threat hanging above our heads.
The silence stretches between bites of buttery pastry until Ares breaks it with an unexpected question. "How are you really doing? With the video?"
I nearly choke on my croissant, the lightness of the moment evaporating. "I..." My voice catches as I try to maintain the brave face I've been wearing. "I hate it. I hate that they can just... rewrite history like that. Make people believe whatever narrative suits them."
Ares sets aside his plate, his full attention on me. "Red..."
"The comments are the worst part." The words spill out before I can stop them. "All these strangers thinking they know me, know us. Calling me a gold digger, a thief, saying I'm using you..." I drag in a shaky breath. "I know I shouldn't read them, but—"
"Hey." His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing away tears I didn't realize had fallen. "Look at me."
I meet his gaze, finding fierce protection there.
"They don't know you," he says firmly. "They don't know us. And engaging with it, giving it attention—that's exactly what they want."
"I know." I lean into his touch. "I know that logically. But seeing Jessica and your mother's lies spread everywhere, watching people believe them..."
