Baby System: I'm the Beast World's Only Hope!-Chapter 99: Episode : Special AU -

A/N: I am going to be posting two special Chapters to celebrate Christmas, Chapter 99 and 100! Hope you enjoy them!

[Setting: New York City. December 24th. 9:45 PM. West Village.]

The snow outside was falling heavily.

Inside The Roxette Bakery, Roxy slammed the cash register shut with a little more force than necessary. She was twenty-Five, entirely too sober for Christmas Eve, and ready to murder the weather.

She was meant to be out there, partying, hooking up with some hot man to celebrate Christmas.

But no, where was she?

Stuck in here because of a damn blizzard.

"If another winter comes like this again, I’m moving to Florida," Roxy muttered, wiping down the stainless-steel counter. "I mean it. I’ll sell croissants to alligators. At least they’re warm."

"Florida has hurricanes and humidity. That wouldn’t be a nice place to live in." A voice countered.

Roxy rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. She looked toward the front window where Kaelen was currently on his knees, fiddling with the heating vent.

Kaelen. Her general contractor. He’d finished the bakery renovation a month ago, yet here he was at 10 PM on a holiday, wearing a tight shirt covered in dust, "fixing" a draft that only he could feel.

He was so freaking hot that’s why Roxy hired him.

"Kaelen," Roxy leaned over the counter. "Go home. Seriously. You’re making me look like a bad boss keeping you here. Don’t you have a pet to feed or something?"

Kaelen stood up, wiping grease on his Carhartt pants. He was built like a delicious hottie who gymed all his life.

But Roxy knew he barely did.

"My dog is fine. My neighbor is watching him," Kaelen grunted, his blue eyes scanning the window frame critically. "This seal is garbage, Roxy. The landlord cheaped out. If the temp drops another five degrees, your pipes are gonna burst."

"My pipes are fine. I’m fine. The only thing bursting right now is my patience."

Roxy was about to say her libido to taste him but she decided on not saying that.

DING-DING-DING!

The bell above the door chimed; and with a gust of wind the door blew open.

Roxy was not expecting anyone.

A man stepped inside, bringing half a snowbank with him. He was wearing a black cashmere trench coat that probably cost more than Roxy’s car, and his expression suggested that the snow had personally offended his ancestors.

Zarek. CEO of DracoCorp, the tech giant of New York was in her bakery.

And this was not the first time Roxy knew of him.

"Jesus Christ," Zarek hissed, slamming the door. He stomped his $2,000 Italian leather boots on her cheap welcome mat. "It is unacceptable out there. My driver—the man I pay six figures to—refused to drive down 7th Avenue."

Roxy rolled her eyes, she didn’t care. Especially any word that comes out from the rich.

"We’re closed, Ritchie Rich," Roxy called out, not looking up from her wiping. "Go buy another bakery that’s open."

Zarek ignored her, pulling off leather gloves and stalking to the counter. "I don’t want a pastry, Roxanne. I want Black coffee. The stuff you make that tastes like burnt food. And I want to sit somewhere that doesn’t smell like poor people and frostbite."

"It’s called ’Dark Roast,’ asshole," Roxy retorted, already grabbing a mug because she knew he wouldn’t leave. "And this ’poor people’ smell is yeast and hard work. Try it sometime."

"He’s not wrong about the frostbite," Kaelen grunted, stepping up beside Zarek, looming over the richer man. "Grid’s unstable. If the power goes, this place is gonna be an icebox in twenty minutes."

Zarek eyed Kaelen’s dusty clothes with open disdain. "Ah. The handyman. Still here? Don’t you have some bricks to stack?"

"Don’t you have a business takeover to ruin?" Kaelen shot back, crossing arms the size of tree trunks.

"Boys, if you whip ’em out to measure them, I’m charging a corkage fee," Roxy snapped, slamming Zarek’s coffee onto the counter.

DING.

The door opened again, quieter this time.

Syris slipped in. He looked like death warmed over in a very expensive pea coat. He was wearing navy scrubs underneath, and his eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.

"Coffee," Syris murmured, leaning heavily against the counter, ignoring the two alphas glaring at each other. "Quad shot. IV drip if you have it. I’ve been in surgery since 5 AM."

Roxy’s demeanor softened instantly. "Damn, Syris. Brain stuff?"

"Aneurysm ruptured on the FDR drive," Syris rubbed his temples. "People drive like idiots when it snows. I hate people." He opened one eye, scanning Roxy clinically. "You’re pale. Dehydrated. Have you eaten today?"

"I ate a broken gingerbread man," Roxy lied.

"Sugar crash imminent," Syris diagnosed dryly. "I should admit you for observation."

"Sure, Doc. Hook me up," Roxy smirked.

"Stop flirting with the staff," Zarek snapped, sipping his coffee. "It’s unprofessional."

CRASH!

The door flew open again, nearly coming off the hinges. A figure tumbled inside, breathing hard, pulling a fur-lined hood over his face.

"Are they gone?!" the newcomer gasped, pressing his face against the glass to look outside. "Oh god, I think one of them has a telephoto lens."

He pulled down his hood.

Torian. Supermodel, influencer, and the reason half the girls in NYC had trust issues. He was devastatingly handsome, even panicking in a blizzard.

"Paparazzi?" Roxy asked, unimpressed.

Who would be taking pictures during a snow storm?!

"Vultures!" Torian corrected, straightening his perfectly coiffed white-blonde hair. He flashed Roxy a blinding smile that usually got him free things. "Roxy, darling! Hide me. If they get a photo of me looking this windswept, my brand deals will evaporate. I’m hideous right now."

"You look fine, Tinkerbell," Roxy sighed. "But we’re closed. Get out."

"I cannot!" Torian gasped, vaulting over the counter to crouch behind her. "My toes are frozen in these Yeezys. They are not winter-rated!"

"Hey! Health code violation! Get your designer ass out of my kitchen!"

The lights flickered once. Twice. Before the darkness went off.

The hum of the refrigerators died. The espresso machine groaned its last breath. The electric heater whirred to a stop.

Silence fell over the bakery, save for the howling wind outside.

"Well. Shit," Roxy said into the void.

"Power grid failure," Kaelen’s voice rumbled in the dark. "Called it."

"My phone has no signal," Torian whined from the floor.

"Everyone shut up," Zarek ordered. "Roxy, where are you? If you trip in the dark, I am suing your landlord."

"I’m fine, Mom," Roxy fumbled for her phone, turning on the flashlight. The beam cut through the dark, illuminating four very different, very handsome men staring at her.

"It’s getting cold already," Syris noted calmly, seeing his breath fog.

"We can go to my penthouse," Zarek stated, buttoning his coat. "It has backup electricity. And edible food."

"No cars, genius," Kaelen shot down the idea. "Look outside. There’s three feet of snow and it’s getting worse. You walk to Midtown in those fancy loafers, you’ll lose your toes."

"I am not walking," Torian declared from the floor. "Carry me, handyman."

"I will throw you into a snowbank, bitch," Kaelen threatened.

"Okay, STOP," Roxy yelled, swinging the flashlight beam between them. "Nobody is walking anywhere. I live upstairs. It’s a studio the size of a shoebox, but it has a gas fireplace. It won’t require electricity."

Four pairs of eyes blinked at her. Roxy’s apartment.

She was letting them into her apartment, their eyes twinkled.

The cold and detached Roxy, accepting them into her apartment.

They would never forget this day.

"Fine," Zarek sniffed, adjusting his silk scarf. "I suppose I can lower my standards for one night in an emergency."

"If you complain about my decor, Zarek, I’m kicking you out," Roxy warned, grabbing her keys. "Follow me."

Roxy’s apartment was... cozy. Which is realtor-speak for "if you sneeze, you hit all four walls."

Kaelen immediately claimed the fireplace. Within minutes, he had a roaring blaze going, the orange glow illuminating the small space filled with plants and mismatched furniture.

Zarek claimed the only armchair, looking ridiculously out of place in his three-piece suit, dusting off the cushion before sitting.

Syris sat on a kitchen stool, checking Roxy’s pulse because he was obsessive like that.

Torian sprawled dramatically on the faux-fur rug in front of the fire, trying to thaw his expensive feet.

Roxy raided her kitchen. "Okay, dinner options are: lukewarm tap water, stale crackers, or... wait. Yes." She pulled out a bottle. "Expensive red wine that a vendor gave me as a bribe."

"Open it," Zarek commanded. "I need alcohol to survive this blizzard."

Roxy popped the cork and poured the wine into coffee mugs because she didn’t own wine glasses. They all gathered around the fire.

The vibe was weird. It was four Alpha personalities crammed into a studio apartment with the woman they all secretly (or not so secretly) wanted.

"You’re shivering," Kaelen noticed, scowling at Roxy.

"I’m fine," Roxy chattered, wrapping her thin cardigan tighter.

Without a word, Zarek stood up, took off his ridiculously expensive cashmere trench coat, and draped it over her shoulders. It weighed twenty pounds and smelled like money.

"Better," Zarek stated, sitting back down.

"Hey," Torian pouted. "I’m cold too, Dragon-man."

"Go to hell," Zarek retorted.

Syris reached out, taking Roxy’s hand in his cool fingers, rubbing her palm efficiently. "You need body heat."

Roxy looked at him with a weird look.

And the first thing she thought of was... was this dude horny?

"I volunteer!" Torian shot up, trying to squeeze onto the small sofa next to her.

"Move it, pretty boy," Kaelen growled, physically lifting Torian and moving him aside like a piece of furniture so he could sit next to Roxy. He put a heavy arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

Roxy stiffened. She was currently wearing Zarek’s coat, being massaged by Syris, snuggled by Kaelen, and ogled by Torian.

"Okay, this is weird," Roxy announced, taking a huge gulp of wine. "I feel like I’m in a reverse harem anime written by a drunk teenager."

"A what?" Kaelen asked.

"Never mind." Roxy leaned her head back against Kaelen’s shoulder because, damn, he was warm. "Look. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re stuck here. Let’s just... try not to kill each other until the power come on, okay?"

Zarek swirled his wine in the "World’s Best Boss" mug. "Fine. But I’m buying you a better couch. This lump is offensive to my spine."

"I’ll build her a better couch," Kaelen countered instantly.

"I can buy her an entire building," Zarek snarled.

"Can you buy her personality?" Torian chipped in helpfully. "Because she’s very prickly."

"Shut up, Torian," everyone else said in unison.

Torian gasped, offended. Then his eyes lit up. He pulled out his phone.

"Wait! The lighting right now? With the fire? It’s exquisite. We must document this survival situation for my followers. They’ll eat this up."

"No photos," Zarek held up a hand. "My legal team will take legal actions."

"Oh, come on, Scrooge," Roxy muttered, feeling the wine hit her empty stomach. She was warm. She was surrounded by hot, annoying men who had apparently decided to spend Christmas Eve annoying her. It wasn’t the worst night ever. "Let him take the damn picture."

Torian squealed happily. "Okay, everyone squeeze in! Kaelen, stop scowling, you look like a murderer. Syris, try to look alive. Zarek, try to look human. Roxy, darling, look beautiful. Oh wait, you always do."

He held the phone up high, angling it for the perfect group selfie.

Roxy looked at the camera screen. She looked exhausted, messy, and was buried under Zarek’s giant coat, squished between Kaelen’s chest and Syris’s shoulder, with Torian’s perfect face beaming in the foreground and Zarek looking rich and grumpy in the background.

It was a disaster.

She smiled. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"Alright, you freaks," Roxy said, raising her wine mug as Torian hit the button. "Say ’Dysfunctional’!"

"Cheese!" Torian yelled over her.

CLICK.