I sometimes wonder if there's a secret memo I missed. You know, the one that tells my brothers the precise moment a guy even thinks about asking me out so they can swoop in like vultures. It's not paranoia—it's fact. They have a radar for it.

I've been asked a thousand times, "What's it like being an Alcove?" Well, on the surface, it looks perfect. I get it—people see the designer clothes, the luxury cars, the insane parties, and think I've got it all.

And maybe I do... except for one tiny detail—love.

Not to sound like a drama queen, but being the youngest daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the world has some pretty big downsides when it comes to romance. Or, more accurately, when it comes to even thinking about romance.

Why?

Oh, because of my four overprotective brothers, also known as the Date Extermination Squad.

Let me paint a picture for you.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon—or as normal as it gets in the Alcove mansion. Marcus, the eldest, was in his study, buried in spreadsheets. Who even works on a weekend?

Meanwhile, Dante was probably somewhere hacking into government databases for fun, Julian was likely strumming away on his guitar while brooding over his next "artistic masterpiece," and Theo—well, Theo was probably dissecting something. (He's a medical prodigy, not a serial killer, I promise.)

I had just finished chatting with Mila, my best friend and fellow partner-in-crime. We were planning a girls' day out because, let's face it, I needed a break from the Alcove mansion. But before we could finalize our plans, the door to my room swung open, and there stood Marcus.

Now, Marcus, with his raven black hair perfectly groomed, and cool blue eyes glinting with a calculative edge, doesn't "visit" my room. He interrogates. And today was no different.

"Going somewhere, Alexandria?"

The way he said my name—Alexandria, not Xandria—was his way of saying, I know something's up. I sighed and leaned back on my bed, looking at him through narrowed eyes. "It's just a lunch, Marcus. No need to get all Sherlock Holmes on me."

"A lunch? With Mila?" He arched a brow, clearly unimpressed.

"Yes, with Mila," I said, rolling my eyes. "Believe it or not, I have a social life outside of you guys."

"You mean attempt to have a social life." He smirked, stepping further into the room and crossing his arms. "You know, it's my job to make sure the wrong people don't get close to you."

"And by 'wrong people,' you mean 'all people,' right?"

He didn't answer, but the amused glint in his eyes said everything.

By the time I got downstairs, the "lunch" with Mila had somehow turned into an official Alcove family intervention. Marcus, Dante, Julian, and Theo were all sitting around the dining room table, looking far too serious for my liking.

I glanced at Mila, who was already there, seated at the far end of the table with an awkward smile. She mouthed, Sorry.

Great. Just great.

"Alright, what is it this time?" I asked, hands on my hips. "Are you guys seriously going to ruin another one of my days out?"

Theo, who rarely speaks unless it's to lecture someone on the complexity of brain surgery, cleared his throat. "We're not ruining it, Xandria. We're enhancing it."

"Enhancing?" I repeated, crossing my arms. "In what universe?"

"In ours," Dante chimed in, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. Dirty brown hair disheveled, his blue eyes gleaming with trouble. "We're just looking out for you."

"Oh really? And how exactly are you going to 'enhance' my lunch?"

"Well," Marcus began, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "we've taken the liberty of vetting your plans. Turns out your lunch spot is owned by a guy who, let's just say, doesn't meet the Alcove standards."

My jaw dropped. "You're vetting restaurants now?"

"Everything, sis," Julian said, brown hair falling into his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "Can't be too careful."

I groaned. "It's a lunch! What, are you going to show up and run background checks on the waiters too?"

"Now that you mention it…" Dante started, and I cut him off with a glare.

Mila and I eventually did get out of the house—miraculously. But not without being shadowed by one of Marcus's "trusted" security guys. You know, just in case someone tried to offer me a free dessert or something.

By the time we reached the café, I was on edge. Mila, tried to make light of the situation.

"Look on the bright side," she said, sipping her iced latte. "At least they didn't set up another mock interview with a PowerPoint presentation."

"Give it time," I muttered darkly, stirring my drink.

I wasn't exaggerating, by the way. There was a time—the time—when Marcus actually set up a boardroom meeting with a guy I was supposed to go on a date with. I'll never forget it.

His name was Sean. He was cute, polite, and—most importantly—interested in me. We'd only been texting for a couple of days when he finally worked up the courage to ask me out to dinner. I was ecstatic.

But, of course, Marcus found out. He always does.

The next thing I knew, Sean was sitting in our family's formal boardroom, staring wide-eyed at Marcus, who was standing in front of a massive projector screen.

"So, let's discuss your qualifications," Marcus began, flipping through slides that showed Sean's school records, part-time job salary, and even his credit score.

I wanted to sink into the floor.

Sean, tried to keep up. "Uh… qualifications for what, exactly?"

"To date my sister," Marcus said, matter-of-factly. "I need to know your financial stability, future goals, and what you bring to the table."

Sean blinked. "I… I brought Xandria's favorite chocolate?"

I couldn't help it—I laughed out loud, but quickly covered my mouth when Marcus shot me a look.

"Charming," Marcus said, not missing a beat. "But let's talk real metrics. How do you plan to support her in five years? Ten years?"

"Marcus!" I hissed. "It's just a dinner date!"

"To you, maybe," he said, eyes never leaving Sean. "But for us, this is a long-term investment. You wouldn't want my sister wasting her time, would you?"

Sean mumbled something about not wasting anyone's time, but at that point, the poor guy was already sweating through his shirt.

The date, unsurprisingly, never happened.

Back in the present, as I sat across from Mila at the café, I sighed deeply. "I'm never going to have a normal love life, am I?"

Mila, ever the optimist, smiled. "You might. One day. If you can get past the Alcove gauntlet."

"Not likely," I grumbled.