Page 18 of Stripe Theory

“How about we order?” Alora grabbed her menu like a shield. “Look, they have fish. Dad, didn’t you want fish? Mom, remember your blood pressure...”

But her mother would not be deterred. “The mate bond phenomenon particularly interests me. The neurological implications of such an intense biological connection?—”

Rehan choked on his water again. Alora briefly contemplated sliding under the table and escaping through the kitchen.

“Lumina, dear,” her father cut in smoothly, “perhaps we should discuss Mr. Kedi’s business acumen first. I have several questions about his company’s research ethics protocols...”

The interrogation continued through appetizers, main courses, and dessert. Her parents tag-teamed their questioning with the precision of veteran scientists—her mother focusing on shifter biology while her father probed Rehan’s business practices and intentions.

Through it all, Rehan maintained remarkable composure, though Alora caught moments when his control slipped. Like when her mother asked about marking behaviors and his fork bent slightly. Or when her father mentioned long-term collaboration and his eyes flashed gold.

But it was during dessert that her mother landed the killing blow.

“Tell me, Mr. Kedi,” she said innocently, “how do you feel about grandchildren?”

Rehan inhaled sharply, started coughing, and knocked over his water glass. The liquid spread across the tablecloth like evidence of his shattered composure.

“And on that note,” Alora stood quickly, “we should probably get back to the lab. Science to do, viruses to cure, professional boundaries to maintain...”

“Of course, darling.” Her mother smiled serenely as if she hadn’t just terrorized a tiger shifter with questions about cubs. “Though I do have a few more questions about genetic inheritance patterns?—”

“Email them,” Alora said firmly, gathering her purse. “Through proper channels. With HR copied.”

Rehan stood with predatory grace, though she noted a slight tremor in his hands as he straightened his sweater. “Thank you for dinner, Dr. and Dr. Sky. It was... enlightening.”

“Oh, please,” her mother beamed, “call me Lumina. After all, we’re practically?—”

“Running late!” Alora cut in desperately. “Very late. For science. Important science. With deadlines. And protocols. Right, Mr. Kedi?”

“Indeed.” His voice rumbled deeper than usual, strain evident in the tight set of his shoulders. “The research requires our immediate attention.”

Her father’s knowing look suggested he didn’t buy their excuse for a second, but he mercifully refrained from comment. “Drive safely. And Mr. Kedi? We’ll continue our discussion about long-term investments another time.”

The night air hit them like freedom as they escaped the restaurant. Alora sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“So...” She snuck a glance at Rehan, who looked slightly shell-shocked. “That went well?”

A sound escaped him—something between a laugh and a growl. “Your mother is... thorough.”

“That’s one word for it.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I’m sorry about the grandchildren question. And the mating habits inquiry. And probably the next twenty emails you’ll get about shifter genetics...”

“Don’t apologize.” He turned to face her, and her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. “Your parents care about you. They’re protective. As they should be.”

Something in his tone made her pulse race. “Most people find the dual-PhD interrogation a bit much.”

“I’m not most people.” He stepped closer, his heat wrapping around her like a physical touch. “And you’re not most scientists.”

“No?” Her voice came out breathier than intended. “What am I then?”

His eyes flashed gold in the darkness. “Brilliant. Unpredictable. Fascinating.”

They stood too close now, the space between them charged with possibility. His scent enveloped her.

“Mr. Kedi?—”

“Rehan,” he corrected softly. “After surviving dinner with your parents, I think we’re past formalities.”

“Rehan.” His name felt right on her tongue. Dangerous, but right. Like testing experimental compounds or modifying lab equipment—thrilling precisely because it might explode in her face. “What are we doing?”

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