Hiding The Alpha King's Twins
Chapter 59
Christian slid his chair closer to the twins, his knuckles tapping the polished tabletop between them.
"Alright, you two," he murmured, dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial rumble. "What’s going on here?"
The fierce whispering died instantly. Chloe and Gabriel turned toward him in perfect unison, their small faces flushed. Behind a calm, effortless smile, Christian hid a surge of deep satisfaction.
Good. Step one accomplished.
"This is supposed to be a warm family dinner," he continued, holding their captive gazes. "Not a championship match."
The twins exchanged a fleeting, guilty look. Christian leaned in even closer, drawing them entirely into his orbit.
"And do you know who’s upset right now?"
Instinctively, both pairs of eyes flicked toward Fleur across the table. Before they could fully look her way, Christian gently cupped their cheeks, his large hands warm against their skin, and smoothly redirected their focus back to him.
"No peeking." His voice sank to a breathless whisper. "This is highly classified information."
The tension broke, dissolving into a pair of matching giggles. Christian glanced dramatically toward Fleur, playing the part to perfection, before lowering his voice again.
"Your mom thinks the two of you started arguing because I brought everyone out tonight."
Genuine horror washed over both children. "Really?" Chloe breathed, her eyes widening.
Christian nodded gravely, the picture of solemn sincerity. "Very really."
Gabriel’s brow furrowed, a heavy weight settling on his young shoulders. "We didn’t mean to upset Mom."
"I know." Christian let out a heavy, performative sigh, tilting his head. "But here’s the problem." He pointed a finger at his own chest. "If Mommy gets upset, she blames me."
The twins gasped in tandem.
"Poor Dad," Chloe whispered, her heart breaking just a little for him.
A sharp laugh nearly clipped Christian’s throat. He choked it back, maintaining his tragically misunderstood expression. "Exactly."
Gabriel crossed his arms, his chest puffing out with sudden protective instinct. "We don’t want Mom and Dad fighting."
"Neither do I," Christian agreed softly.
"So what do we do?"
The twins plunged into deep thought for a handful of seconds. Then, Chloe’s hand shot up like she was in a classroom. "Stop arguing."
"Correct."
Gabriel nodded, adapting the strategy. "Temporary peace treaty."
"Excellent idea." Christian lifted his glass of juice, his eyes sparkling with triumph. "In that case, I officially declare a truce."
The children didn’t hesitate, eagerly hoisting their own glasses. "Truce!"
Three glasses clinked with a bright chime. Mission accomplished.
Across the table, Fleur watched the entire display with deep suspicion. She hadn’t caught a single syllable of their whispered huddle; whatever web Christian was weaving, he had kept it entirely out of her earshot. A moment later, he looked up, meeting her gaze across the candlelit table, and flashed her a victorious, breathtaking grin.
"We’re good."
Fleur narrowed her eyes, a familiar prickle of heat rising in her chest. That smug smile said everything—the infuriating man knew he had won. Yet, as she looked at her suddenly docile children, she couldn’t deny the results.
Soon, a parade of waiters arrived, blanketing the table in an abundance of steaming, aromatic dishes.
The children dug in with enthusiastic hunger, while Christian seamlessly kept them entertained, spinning playful stories and drawing out their genuine laughter.
The longer Fleur watched him navigate the children’s chaotic energy, the more a confusing, tight ache bloomed in her chest. Tonight, he was patient. Attentive. Surprisingly kind. It terrified her how easily he fit.
When dinner finally ended, Christian handled the bill, leaving behind a tip so staggering that several staff members openly stared in disbelief.
The drive back to Fleur’s apartment was quiet, the twins tired but still buzzing with the residual electricity of the day’s adventures.
As the car idled at the curb, Fleur unbuckled her seatbelt and turned in her seat.
"Okay, kids. Time to say goodbye to Mr. Wayne."
The air in the car instantly sucked dry. The twins froze, their lingering smiles vanishing.
Christian raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes catching hers in the rearview mirror. "Goodbye?" He switched off the ignition, the sudden silence heavy, and stepped out into the cool night air.
Alarm bells rang in Fleur’s head. "What are you doing?" she demanded, opening her door.
Christian closed the driver’s door with a solid, definitive click. "I’m staying here tonight."
Fleur stared at him, her brain short-circuiting. "You what?"
"I’m staying." He offered her a casual, easy smile, as if he were simply announcing a shift in the weather forecast.
"You can’t just decide to stay at my apartment!"
Christian placed a hand over his heart, his features twisting into a look of dramatic devastation.
"That’s hurtful, sweetheart."
Fleur folded her arms tight against her chest, refusing to be swayed by the theater. "You invited yourself."
"Exactly." He nodded, entirely unashamed. "Since you forgot to invite me, I had to solve the problem myself."
Fleur opened her mouth to snap back, closed it, and opened it again. The sheer, unadulterated audacity of this man was a force of nature. But before she could launch a counterattack, two small, desperate voices joined the fray.
"Please, Mom!" Chloe cried, lunging forward to grab her left arm.
"Let Dad stay!" Gabriel pleaded, anchoring himself to her right.
Fleur nearly choked on her own breath. Dad. Again.
She whipped her head toward Christian, throwing all her fury into a glare. The man had somehow completely bewitched her children in less than twenty-four hours. It felt predatory; it felt like it should be illegal.
"Please?" Chloe begged, her eyes wide and watery.
"Just for one night," Gabriel added, pulling out all the stops.
Fleur tried to summon her most intimidating, non-negotiable motherly stare, but neither child backed down.
Wonderful. They were teaming up with the enemy.
Christian, naturally, chose that exact moment to twist the knife. He clasped his hands beneath his chin, perfectly mimicking the twins’ pouting, sorrowful expressions.
"Please, Mom?"
Fleur stared at him in utter disbelief. The feared, lethal mafia king was literally pouting at her on a public sidewalk. A hysterical urge to scream bubbled up in her throat. Instead, she defeatedly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine."
The children erupted into cheers.
"But—" Fleur cut in, halting the celebration instantly. Christian paused, waiting for the trap to spring. "You’ll be sleeping on the couch."
"Deal."
The answer came far too quickly. Fleur’s eyes narrowed to slits; that level of eager compliance was incredibly suspicious.
Christian stepped closer, closing the distance until his shadow swallowed her.
"So generous," he murmured, his breath brushing warm against the shell of her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "And let’s not forget something very important."
Fleur’s stomach dropped into a hollow pit.
"The challenge." A slow, victorious grin spread across his face in the dim streetlights. "I won."
The memory hit her like a physical blow. That stupid challenge. The one she had completely pushed out of her mind during the chaos of dinner. Now she remembered with terrifying clarity exactly why she couldn’t let him cross her threshold.
But the trap had already snapped shut. The twins were already joyfully dragging Christian toward the building’s entrance, oblivious to the war raging in their mother’s mind.
When Fleur rang the bell to her apartment, Lea swung the door open. Her face lit up automatically at the sight of the children, but the moment her gaze drifted to the towering figure of Christian standing directly behind them, the warmth vanished.
Lea looked at Fleur. Fleur looked at Lea. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken panic.
Finally, Fleur let out a ragged sigh. "I can explain."
The twins, completely unbothered, grabbed Christian’s large hands and pulled him eagerly down the hallway toward their bedroom, desperate to show him every toy and treasure they owned. The moment their bedroom door clicked, Lea’s hand shot out, seizing Fleur’s arm with an iron grip and dragging her into the kitchen.
"Explain. Now."
Fleur groaned, burying her face in her hands. "It’s a long story."
"Then start talking."
"Chloe and Gabriel skipped school today," Fleur confessed, the exhaustion finally catching up to her voice.
Lea nearly dropped the glass she was holding. "They did what?"
"They went looking for Christian."
Lea blinked, her brain struggling to connect the dots. "What? Why?"
"They wanted to convince him to marry me."
Silence descended upon the kitchen—a suffocating, endless silence. Then—
"They WHAT?" Lea hissed, her voice a strangled explosion.
"Exactly," Fleur whispered.
Lea stared at her, her eyes wild with genuine alarm. "Have they completely lost their minds?"
"I don’t know." Fleur slumped back against the counter, feeling entirely hollowed out. "I honestly don’t know anymore."
Lea stepped closer, her voice dropping into a tense, frightened whisper. "Fleur, this is Christian Wayne we’re talking about." The raw, unvarnished terror in her eyes made Fleur’s throat go dry. "We both know what kind of man he is."
Horrific images flashed behind Fleur’s eyelids. The cold weight of a gun. The brutal, unyielding violence. The literal bloodshed she had witnessed firsthand because of his world.
Lea swallowed hard, her knuckles white against the counter. "He’s dangerous, Fleur."
"I know."
"You cannot marry him."
"I know."
Lea pointed a trembling finger toward the hallway. "And now he’s staying under your roof?"
Fleur threw her hands up in a gesture of pure, helpless defeat. "The children wouldn’t let him leave. They cornered me."
Lea let out a low groan, rubbing her temples.
"Unbelievable." Then, a sudden shift in her expression took over. Her eyes narrowed to sharp points. "Wait." She paused, her voice tightening. "Where exactly is he sleeping?"
"The couch," Fleur shot back instantly, her defensive walls slamming up.
Lea didn’t break eye contact. "Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
Lea slowly folded her arms over her chest, her gaze boring into Fleur’s soul. "And absolutely not in your room?"
Fleur leveled her with a flat, exhausted stare. "Lea. Please."
Lea raised both hands in a mock surrender, though the worry didn’t leave her face. "Hey, I had to ask."