Red Flags and Red Skin

Milan sat on the edge of Trixie’s bed, her little body still turned away from him, clutching her unicorn like a lifeline. Her shoulders shook from the leftover sobs, and it tore him up inside.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Trixie…”

She didn’t respond.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling completely helpless. He could command armies, strike fear into the coldest hearts—but he couldn’t handle his daughter’s heartbreak.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice low. “I’ll let him come. Just… please don’t be angry with me.”

Trixie froze.

Slowly, she rolled over and blinked up at him, her big watery eyes searching his face. “You mean it?”

Milan nodded, defeated but honest. “Yeah. I mean it. But he’s not your dad, okay? He’s… complicated.”

She sniffled, then gave him a small smile. “You’re complicated too.”

Milan nearly laughed. “Guess we both are.”

Trixie sat up and hugged him tightly, wrapping her little arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Milan closed his eyes, holding her back.

Later that night, when he stepped into the hallway, he pulled out his phone and texted a single word to Gray:

“Call it off.”

That morning, Milan had started the day like any other. He splashed water on his face, then decided to take a proper bath to clear his head. He soaked in his regular, warm bath at home—just enough to loosen the tension in his shoulders. After drying off, he dressed in his usual sleek all-black outfit, sprayed a little cologne, and prepared to head out.

Gray had told him about a traditional countryside bathhouse—something about stress relief and “restoring the balance of the body.” Milan rolled his eyes but figured why not. If there was ever a time to try weird things, it was now.

He arrived at the quiet bathhouse tucked away in the hills, stripped down, and stepped into the steaming pool the host had prepared for him. The water was tinted a strange red-gold, filled with floating petals and herbs. It smelled sharp and flowery.

“This better be worth it,” he muttered, sinking in.

An hour later, Milan stepped out of the water, dried off, and glanced in the mirror… only to see his skin bright red.

“What the—?!”

He scrubbed his arms. The color didn’t budge. His chest, neck, even his ears were stained.

Bursting out into the hallway in just a towel, he yelled, “GRAY!”

Gray, sitting outside sipping tea, looked up and choked. “Boss… you okay?”

“This bath stained my skin! What kind of death potion did you send me into?!”

Gray tried not to laugh. “It’s… probably safflower. It helps with blood flow. Locals love it.”

“I’m a mafia boss, not a walking chili pepper!”

Just then, Trixie came around the corner, cookie in hand. She froze when she saw him.

“…Daddy? You look like a spicy tomato.”

Milan groaned. “I’m never trusting any of you again.”

Milan was pacing in his room, trying to rub off the stubborn red stain with a wet towel, muttering curses under his breath. No amount of scrubbing was working, and the red tint had now settled evenly over his arms, neck, and cheeks—like he had spent a week under the sun or got dunked in blush powder.

He was mid-grumble when Trixie’s voice rang out from the hallway:

“Daddy Luka is here!”

Milan froze, towel still in hand.

“No, no, no—now?” he whispered, panic rising in his chest. He grabbed the nearest coat to try and cover himself but it was too thin, and the collar didn’t hide the glow of his neck.

Too late.

The door burst open with Luka strolling in like he owned the place—black shirt half-unbuttoned, confidence dripping off him like cologne. His eyes immediately landed on Milan.

Then, without a word, Luka crossed the room in long strides and scooped Milan into his arms effortlessly.

“¡Dios mío… por qué estás tan rojo, mi amor?” Luka whispered against Milan’s ear, his voice a low, possessive purr.

Milan flushed even deeper, if that was even possible. “Put me down!”

But Luka didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow, teasing kiss to Milan’s neck—right over the stained skin. “Mmm… you smell like flowers. Did you bathe just for me?”

Trixie giggled in the background. “He did! He wanted to relax!”

Milan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I swear, this is a nightmare.”

Luka only smirked. “Then let me be your favorite dream.”

To be continued

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