The surprise

Milan woke up with his hair sticking out in ten different directions, his cheek pressed against a slightly drool-stained pillow. The sunlight peeked through the blackout curtains he swore he closed tighter the night before.

He groaned and sat up, running a hand through the tangled mess on his head. "Great. Mafia boss or fried chicken?"

Still half-asleep, he dragged himself into the bathroom and slapped on a face mask with zero hesitation—his favorite charcoal one that made him look like a haunted marshmallow.

After rinsing off and yawning dramatically, he shuffled out into the hallway, bare feet cold against the marble floor.

"Water," he mumbled like a zombie, making his way toward the kitchen. "Need. Water."

But as he stepped into the living room, glass in hand, he froze.

There, tied to one of his chairs, looking completely unbothered despite the ropes, was Luka.

His gang stood around him, tense, watching Milan’s reaction.

Milan blinked. Then blinked again. “What the hell—?”

“We caught him sneaking around the east side,” Gray said. “He gave up real easy. Didn’t even pull a weapon.”

Luka tilted his head and smiled, eyes locked on Milan.

“Hola, guapo,” Luka purred, as if he weren’t tied up in enemy territory. “Te ves adorable con esa mascarilla.”

Milan stood there, water halfway to his mouth, mask still on his face, and no comeback loading in his brain.

"...I need coffee," he muttered.

Luka laughed, even with a bruise forming on his jaw. “¿No vas a saludarme, mi amor?”

The gang looked confused.

Milan slowly turned to them. “...Nobody touches him. Nobody talks to him. Just—leave him.”

“But boss—”

“I said leave him.”

He finally drank the water, sighed, and glared at Luka.

“Take that stupid smile off your face, Lulu.”

Luka grinned wider.

Milan muttered under his breath, “This day is gonna be hell.”

Luka sat quietly for a while, humming some old Spanish love song under his breath. Milan tried to ignore it, sipping his coffee with his mask still half on.

Then the humming stopped.

Milan glanced up—

And froze.

The chair was empty.

“What the—”

Before he could turn fully, he felt it—arms sliding smoothly around his waist from behind, and a warm breath by his ear.

“Te ves más delicioso de lo que recordaba,” Luka whispered, voice low and teasing.

Milan stiffened, heat crawling up his neck. “You—how the hell—”

His gang scrambled to react, some already pulling out their weapons.

“No se asusten, chicos,” Luka said with a playful tone, his chin resting on Milan’s shoulder. “Solo vine a abrazar a mi ex favorito.”

Milan growled. “Take him away. Now.”

The gang lunged forward, but Luka smirked, gave Milan’s waist one last cheeky squeeze, and in a blur of movement, slipped away like smoke.

He flipped over the balcony railing with gymnastic ease, landed on a lower ledge, and vanished before anyone could fire a shot.

“Hasta luego, corazón!” Luka called out from somewhere in the shadows.

Milan stood there, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, trying to breathe through the storm of emotions.

Gray cautiously stepped closer. “Boss… are you okay?”

Milan downed the rest of his coffee in one go.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered.

Then, quieter, like a confession:

“...After I punch that stupid smile off his face.”

The room was dead silent after Luka’s dramatic escape, the sound of distant city traffic filtering in through the open balcony door. Milan still stood in place, arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if trying to physically hold in his embarrassment.

“Alright…” he growled. “Which one of you knows Spanish?”

The group shifted awkwardly. Then a hand hesitantly went up.

“Uh… I do, boss,” said Jayden, the youngest of the crew. He pushed up his glasses nervously.

Milan pointed at him. “Good. What the hell did that lunatic just say to me?”

Jayden cleared his throat. “Um… first, he said you looked more delicious than he remembered.”

The crew collectively made that “ooh” sound you hear in high school fights.

Milan’s eyebrow twitched.

Jayden continued, trying not to grin, “Then he told us not to panic, that he just wanted to hug his favorite ex…”

Milan’s face turned red instantly.

“Favorite what?”

“Ex, boss,” Jayden said, blinking. “Like… boyfriend. Or at least that’s how he said it.”

The gang was not holding back their smirks now.