Chapter 19: Kitchen Interlude

Sebastian couldn't quite pin down why he was so agitated.

The chef's knife slammed against the cutting board—

thud, thud, thud

—each strike more forceful than the last. Beside him, the green onions were being hacked into uneven segments, several of which flew right off the board.

The living room was bustling with activity.

Aunts from all branches of the family had arrived, surrounding Sebastian’s mother and peppering her with questions, punctuated by frequent bursts of laughter.

Shane was currently being cornered by several aunts asking if he had a girlfriend, his face a mask of awkward smiles.

Sebastian listened to the cacophony, and the knife in his hand grew even heavier.

"Chopping that hard? Do you have a grudge against the cutting board?"

The voice came from behind him.

Sebastian’s hand faltered.

He didn't turn around.

Lucian walked into the kitchen, coming to a halt beside him and looking at him with a beaming smile.

"What's the matter? Not happy?"

Sebastian kept his head down and continued chopping.

"I'm fine."

"Fine?" Lucian leaned in closer. "Then why the long face?"

Sebastian took a deep breath.

He set the knife down, turned around, and looked Lucian in the eye.

The noisy chatter from the living room continued, but the kitchen had fallen into a sudden silence.

"You don't need to do that on purpose," Sebastian said, his voice dropped to a low whisper.

Lucian blinked.

"Do what on purpose?"

Sebastian stared at him without a word.

Lucian felt a giddy sense of satisfaction.

"Are you jealous?"

Sebastian was driven to a laugh of sheer exasperation.

"Don't flatter yourself."

Lucian’s grin widened.

He didn't say another word. Instead, he reached out and slid his hand under the hem of Sebastian’s shirt.

Sebastian recoiled, his waist bumping against the stove, his brow furrowing in a wince.

"Don't move," Lucian’s hand had already found his waist. "I'm checking the brace."

He pressed along the edges of the medical brace, adjusting its position and tightening the Velcro straps.

Sebastian endured the fussing; he wanted to resist, but he was afraid of being overheard by those outside. He could only grit his teeth and let the boy have his way.

"There." Lucian retracted his hand, giving Sebastian’s waist a light pat. "That should be more comfortable."

Sebastian glared at him.

"I told you, keep your hands to yourself."

Lucian looked back at him with a grin.

"Fine," he said. "But if it starts hurting tonight, don't come calling for me."

Sebastian took another deep breath.

He turned back to resume chopping, but Lucian’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"What now?"

"Lean back and take a break." Lucian nudged him aside and picked up the knife himself. "I'll chop."

"You know how?"

"Nope," Lucian said matter-of-factly. "But I’m better at it than you trying to mince the cutting board into splinters."

Sebastian leaned against the refrigerator, watching him.

Lucian’s technique was far from professional—he held the knife too high and his movements were slow—but the cuts were surprisingly neat.

Staring at the back of that mop of hair, Sebastian felt a bit of his irritation evaporate.

But in the next second, that hand reached over and ruffled his hair.

Sebastian jerked his head away.

"Mind your manners."

Lucian pulled his hand back, grinning.

"I'd rather not."

Then he leaned in and planted a kiss on Sebastian’s cheek.

The

smack

sounded exceptionally loud in the quiet kitchen.

Sebastian froze.

He clutched the spot where he’d been kissed, staring at Lucian in shock.

Lucian had already turned back to the cutting board as if nothing had happened.

Sebastian stood there, his heart skipping several beats.

He wanted to curse, he wanted to fight, he wanted to kick the brat out.

But he just stood there, shielding his burning face, unable to utter a single word.

Disgusting.

It must be disgust.

That was what he told himself.

His frustration mounting, Sebastian grabbed Lucian by the wrist and began dragging him out of the kitchen.

Lucian stumbled from the pull, yet he remained shamelessly playful, puckering his lips and leaning toward the man's face.

"What? Didn't get enough just now?"

Sebastian’s gaze was like tempered ice.

"I dare you to touch me one more time."

Lucian, of course, didn't dare.

It wasn't because he was afraid of a beating; he was afraid of hurting the man's waist.

He allowed Sebastian to drag him along, following the momentum, not daring to struggle or stop. He was hauled past the kitchen entrance and toward the living room.

The commotion of their scuffle was too much to miss.

The laughter from the aunts in the living room came to a screeching halt.

A dozen pairs of eyes snapped toward them simultaneously.

Sebastian’s footsteps stopped dead.

Lucian stopped as well.

The air solidified for two seconds.

Then, a polished, polite smile spread across Sebastian’s face.

"I can handle the cooking," he said with a smile, his tone as gentle as if nothing had happened. "You're a guest; just sit down and wait for the meal."

Watching the speed of that transformation, Lucian was dying of laughter inside.

He smiled back, nodding cooperatively.

"Alright then. I'll leave the hard work to you, Counselor."

He reached out and patted Sebastian on the shoulder.

A firm, heavy pat.

He let his fingers linger for a moment, his fingertips grazing the shoulder in a provocation that only the two of them understood.

The smile on Sebastian’s face didn't falter for a second.

But his eyes told Lucian:

You’re dead.

Lucian withdrew his hand and walked toward the living room with a grin.

"Aunts, what were you all talking about? It sounded so lively."

His voice was warm and natural, and he quickly blended in with the group.

Sebastian stood at the kitchen entrance, watched his back, and took a deep breath.

Then he turned back into the kitchen.

The sound of the knife hitting the board was even louder than before.

The voices of the aunts drifted from the living room into the kitchen like a swarm of buzzing bees.

"That Sebastian... he's just too picky!"

"Isn't he? Remember that bank manager’s daughter I introduced him to? Such a good family, and he wouldn't even meet her!"

"This one is different. She runs her own business, drives a BMW, and is two years older than Sebastian. A few years older means she'll know how to take care of him!"

"Yes, yes! I saw the photo—she’s very pretty, fair skin, big eyes. She’s divorced, though, no kids..."

"What’s wrong with being divorced? A divorced woman knows how to cherish a man!"

Lucian sat on the sofa holding a cup of tea, the smile on his face barely holding together.

Divorced, wealthy, fair skin, big eyes.

As he listened to them, his grip on the teacup tightened.

He glanced toward the kitchen. Sebastian was inside chopping vegetables, his back straight, looking as though none of this concerned him.

Lucian stood up.

"I'll go help."

"Oh, Lucian, just sit!" an aunt grabbed him. "You're a guest, how can we let you work?"

"It’s fine," Lucian said, pulling away with a smile. "I actually love cooking."

He strode into the kitchen.

Sebastian was chopping with his back turned. Hearing the footsteps, he didn't even look around.

Lucian walked up behind him and stood for two seconds.

Then he reached out and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s waist from behind.

Sebastian’s body went rigid.

"Let go."

Lucian didn't let go.

He rested his chin on Sebastian’s shoulder, turned his face, and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Are you truly insane?" Sebastian’s voice was a low hiss; he was nearly dying of rage.

Lucian ignored him, burying his face in the man's shoulder and speaking with a muffled voice.

"You're going on a blind date this afternoon."

Sebastian didn't stop chopping.

"Yeah."

"The other person is a wealthy divorcée."

"Yeah."

"You're about to be a kept man."

Sebastian finally stopped the knife.

He turned his head and looked at Lucian.

There was no emotion in that gaze; it was as calm as a pool of stagnant water.

"That sounds great," he said. "I won't have to work so hard anymore."

Lucian froze.

He lifted his head to look at Sebastian.

Sebastian had already turned back and resumed chopping.

Lucian stood behind him, his arms still around the man's waist, but he felt as though he had been turned to stone.

After a long while, he released his grip.

He took a step back.

Then another.

Sebastian didn't look back once, the

thud, thud, thud

of the knife continuing.

Lucian stood in the middle of the kitchen staring at the man's back, his lips moving but no words coming out.

He took a step forward, wanting to hold him again.

The moment his hand touched Sebastian’s waist—

A sharp elbow strike slammed hard into his ribs.

Lucian let out a muffled groan and recoiled, clutching his chest.

Sebastian didn't even turn his head, his voice like ice. "I told you. Don't touch me."