The first rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Clara stirred awake, the scent of something warm and familiar teasing her senses. For a moment, she thought she was still dreaming, but the quiet clinking of pans and the faint hum of a low baritone voice quickly confirmed her reality.
She sat up, wrapping the blanket around herself, and went outside. The sight that greeted her made her heart flutter—Benjamin was in the kitchen. His hair was slightly tousled, and he had rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, revealing his strong forearms.
Clara leaned against the doorframe, smiling as she watched him. The mighty Mafia King, who commanded fear and respect, was standing by the stove, fumbling with a spatula.
"Good morning, Chef Benjamin," she teased, her voice still raspy from sleep.
Benjamin turned, startled, but his expression softened when he saw her. "Good morning, sleepyhead," he replied, his lips curling into a smirk. "I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but it seems you woke up too soon."
Clara walked into the kitchen, her bare feet padding against the cool tiles. "Surprise or not, I love seeing you like this." She looked at the counter, where a bowl of pancake batter, some chopped fruit, and a small plate of eggs rested.
"Pancakes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't sound so doubtful," Benjamin retorted, feigning offense. "I happen to be excellent at making pancakes. Just… not flipping them." He gestured to a slightly misshapen pancake on the side.
Clara giggled, stepping closer to him. "Let me help."
"No," Benjamin said, gently blocking her path with the spatula. "You're not lifting a finger this morning. Sit."
Clara couldn't suppress her smile as she took a seat at the small dining nook. She watched as Benjamin focused on the task at hand, his usual confidence giving way to a concentrated furrow of his brow as he flipped another pancake.
"Who knew the big, bad Mafia King could be so domestic?" she teased.
Benjamin glanced at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "For you, Clara, I'd learn to cook every meal in the world."
Her cheeks flushed at his words, and she looked down at her lap, unable to hide her smile.
---
A few minutes later, Benjamin placed a plate in front of her. The pancakes were stacked neatly, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a drizzle of syrup. Beside it was a small bowl of fruit and a cup of steaming coffee.
"This looks amazing," Clara said, her eyes wide with delight.
Benjamin sat across from her, his own plate identical to hers. "Taste it before you compliment me too much."
Clara cut a piece of the pancake and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes lit up as the flavors melted on her tongue. "This is delicious!"
Benjamin leaned back, a satisfied grin on his face. "Told you I'm good at this."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while, stealing glances at each other and exchanging smiles. The morning felt surreal—simple, warm, and filled with a sense of normalcy that was rare in their world.
"I could get used to this," Clara said softly, looking up at him.
Benjamin reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "You should. Because I'm planning to give you mornings like this for the rest of our lives."
Her heart swelled at his words. For a man who rarely showed his emotions, Benjamin had a way of saying the most profound things with perfect sincerity.
---
After breakfast, Clara insisted on washing the dishes despite Benjamin's protests. They stood side by side at the sink, her washing and him drying.
"You really don't have to help," she said, glancing at him.
"And let you do all the work? Never."
She laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
As she reached for another plate, Benjamin suddenly dipped his fingers into the soapy water and flicked a few droplets at her. Clara gasped, turning to glare at him.
"Did you just—"
Before she could finish, he flicked more water at her, his smirk widening.
"Oh, you're asking for it!" Clara grabbed the sprayer nozzle from the sink and aimed it at him, squeezing the trigger.
Benjamin raised his hands, trying to shield himself, but it was too late. The spray hit him square in the chest, soaking his shirt.
"Clara!" he exclaimed, laughing as he tried to grab the nozzle from her.
She squealed, dodging his attempts, but he was too quick. In one swift move, he captured her wrist and pulled her close. Water dripped from his shirt as he stared down at her, his eyes dark and playful.
"You've declared war," he said, his voice low.
Clara's laughter faded as she looked up at him, her breath hitching. The air between them shifted, the playful tension giving way to something deeper.
"Then surrender," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Benjamin didn't need any more prompting. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was as consuming as it was tender. Clara melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck as he held her close.
---
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of quiet intimacy. They sat together on the couch, talking about everything and nothing, their connection growing stronger with every shared moment.
But as the clock ticked on, reality began to creep back in. Benjamin's phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at it with a sigh.
"I have to deal with something," he said reluctantly, standing up.
Clara nodded, though she couldn't hide her disappointment. "Be careful."
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Always."
As he walked away, Clara watched him, her heart full of love and worry. Life with Benjamin was far from ordinary, but moments like this morning made all the chaos worth it.
She whispered to herself, "Whatever comes next, we'll face it together."