POV Mira "I beg you my finest pardon?!" Amber screeched, her voice at a pitch that could shatter glass - and maybe my eardrums - as she hurled a knife straight at me. "Oh my god, Amber!" I yelped, jerking sideways so fast my hip slammed into the counter. "Are you trying to kill me?!" The blade clattered against the wall behind me before spinning to the floor. It was Sunday. Supposed to be a peaceful, lazy Sunday. But no. Amber had spammed me with calls and texts last night - borderline harassment - insisting I come over for brunch. I'd given in, expecting mimosas, pancakes, maybe some normal gossip. What I got instead was a woman wielding a knife in one hand and emotional damage in the other. Apparently, she'd decided she was cooking brunch. Spoiler: it wasn't going well. Her eyes were wide, her curls frizzing around her face like a halo of chaos. "You fucked the Stern brothers?!" she yelled. "As in all three at the same damn time?" I froze mid-step. Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to bring that up while we were surrounded by sharp, potentially life-threatening equipment. "Well... yeah." Amber's mouth fell open, then snapped shut like she didn't know whether to scream or faint. "You're talking about it so casual. Like you're telling me you had a nice coffee date or something." I shrugged, trying to play it off, but my cheeks heated anyway. She stalked toward me, pointing a wooden spoon at my chest. "No, no, no. We are not skipping over the logistics here. How did they do it? Did they have you sandwiched in between?" Before I could answer, she slammed her hands on either side of the fridge and began thrusting her hips in the most exaggerated, ridiculous way possible, complete with sound effects. "Stop doing that!" I shoved her shoulder, but I couldn't keep the laughter out of my voice. "And... yes. That is exactly what it looked like." Amber gasped like she'd been given front-row tickets to the drama of the year. "Oh my god. Okay, how big were they?" My jaw dropped. "I am not-" She reached for the olive oil bottle before I could finish and promptly held it up like a microphone before... oh no. Oh no. "Amber, I swear to God-" She made an obscene deepthroating motion with the bottle, complete with gagging noises, which earned her a dish towel straight to the head. She cackled, tossing the towel back at me. "Girl, you lost your virginity in the most insane way possible. We need to commemorate this. Like, immediately." "I don't like where this is going." Amber's eyes lit up with pure mischief. "We're making a cake. A cake that says RIP Virginity . No takebacks." I groaned, but an hour later, she had me elbows-deep in flour and sugar, mumbling under my breath about how this wasn't what I signed up for when I agreed to brunch. By the time we were done cooking, it was almost five in the evening. Brunch had turned into early dinner. We carried everything out to her porch - a little two-seater table covered with mismatched plates. The spread was... chaotic, but impressive: a big salad, tacos loaded with every topping imaginable, and, sitting smugly in the middle, a small vanilla cake with RIP Virginity piped across the top in wobbly pink frosting. We were halfway through eating when the sound of tires crunching against gravel made me glance toward the street. A sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of the house. The window slid down, and my stomach dropped. Leo. Wasn't he supposed to be in another country right now? "Ladies," he drawled, his voice carrying that low, lazy confidence that always made my pulse stutter. "What's for dinner?" Amber's grin spread like wildfire. "Well, it's actually brunch... but you can have Mira for dinner." My foot shot out under the table, connecting hard with her shin. "Ouch!" she yelped, glaring at me like I was the problem. Leo's laugh rolled through the air, rich and deep, and he pushed his door open. The sight of him stepping out made something twist low in my belly. Black slacks, perfectly pressed. A crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the strong line of his forearms. His hair pushed back, catching the last light of the sun. He looked like every corporate daydream I'd ever had - and I hated how my brain immediately replayed my old crush in vivid detail. "What is he coming here to do?" I hissed, leaning toward Amber, panic sparking in my chest. "I don't know, girl." She smirked. "It's your man." "He's not my man," I snapped, my eyes darting back to him as he closed the distance between us with that smooth, purposeful walk that made it hard to breathe. "Uh-huh," Amber muttered, clearly not convinced. Leo's gaze dropped to the table - and landed squarely on the cake. My heart stopped. Oh my god. The cake. I'd completely forgotten about it. A slow smile curled over his lips. Then he looked right at me, eyes glinting with something I couldn't quite read. "If you're done, I can drop you off home. I have some things to discuss with you." Amber was already on her feet before I could answer, stacking plates and moving faster than I'd ever seen her move in her life. "She's done, she's done. I see you tomorrow, babes." "I wasn't done with my salad yet!" I protested, glaring at her. Leo leaned a hand casually against the table, still smiling faintly. "Hey, can I have a piece of the Virgin?" Amber didn't miss a beat. "You already had that." I went crimson. My entire body felt like it was on fire. Leo chuckled - a deep, knowing sound. "I meant the cake," he said smoothly. "Oh." Amber's laughter filled the porch. "I'll get you a to-go box." She disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the fading evening light with him. His eyes stayed on me, sharp and unreadable, until the silence felt like a physical weight. "Get in the car, Kensington ," he said at last.