chapter 75
Elena's POV:
Morning light filtered through the curtains with unusual gentleness, pulling me from sleep before my usual hour.
For a moment, I lingered in the warmth of Sebastian's embrace, his arm still curved protectively around my waist, his breath steady against my neck.
Then I remembered: Rose Mitchell was coming today.
The thought propelled me upright with more energy than I'd felt in weeks, earning a drowsy protest from Sebastian as cool air rushed between us. His fingers caught at my nightgown, trying to coax me back into the cocoon of blankets and body heat.
"Where are you going?" His voice carried that particular roughness of early morning.
"Breakfast," I said, already swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "I want to be ready when Rose arrives."
The silence that followed held weight.
I could feel his gaze tracking my movements as I reached for my robe, the intensity of his attention raising goosebumps along my arms.
"You've never been this eager to see me in the morning." The words emerged low and controlled.
I turned to face him, tying the sash with deliberate calm.
He'd propped himself up on one elbow, the sheets pooled around his waist, studying me with those sharp gray eyes. Even disheveled from sleep, he emanated that particular brand of elegant menace that had once terrified me and now... well, I wasn't entirely sure what it did to me now.
"I see you every morning," I pointed out, aiming for lightness.
"And if one day you couldn't?" His voice dropped lower. "If you woke up and I wasn't here—would that make you sad, Elena?"
The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, something hollow opened in my chest. The feeling was too raw, too revealing, and I opened my mouth to deflect—
But he was already moving, sheets sliding away as he rose and pulled me against him in one fluid motion. His arms encircled me completely, my face pressed against his bare chest where his heartbeat drummed steady and sure.
"We haven't gotten up together in too long," he murmured into my hair, the words vibrating through his chest.
The embrace lasted only moments before he released me, but something in the gesture—protective rather than possessive, almost tender—left me unsettled in ways I couldn't name.
We dressed and ate breakfast in companionable quiet, though I could feel his attention on me even when I wasn't looking.
Afterward, we settled onto the living room sofa to wait.
Sebastian sat close enough that our shoulders nearly touched.
When the doorbell finally chimed, I shot up from the cushions like a released spring, already three steps toward the foyer before Sebastian's alarmed voice caught up with me.
"Elena!" The sharpness in his tone made me falter. "Have you forgotten you're pregnant?"
I slowed, feeling foolish at the reminder, but my eagerness must have still shown because he was beside me in an instant, his hand finding my elbow with gentle firmness.
"Carefully," he murmured, and though his touch was light, I could feel the concern radiating from him as he guided me the rest of the way to the door. "You can't just leap up like that anymore."
But his caution couldn't dampen my excitement.
I reached for the handle, my face already arranging itself into what I hoped was a welcoming smile. This was it—finally, I'd meet the mysterious Rose who'd—
The door swung open, and my brilliant smile froze.
Nicholas Black stood on our threshold, impeccably dressed despite the early hour, his trademark smile in place. The disappointment hit me like cold water, dousing my enthusiasm in an instant.
"Good morning, Elena. Sebastian." Nicholas inclined his head politely, his expression professionally neutral despite the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth that suggested he'd noticed my disappointment.
I rearranged my features into something more polite, stepping back automatically.
"Nicholas." I managed a neutral tone. "We weren't expecting you."
"I need to discuss some business with Sebastian." He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his gaze sliding between us with knowing calculation. "Urgent matters that couldn't wait."
"My office," he said, already steering Nicholas away from me.
The dismissal was clear.
I watched them disappear down the hallway, Sebastian's hand on Nicholas's shoulder looking more like a restraint than a welcome.
I shrugged inwardly—Nicholas probably knew Rose was coming today and had manufactured some excuse to be here. Men and their complicated emotions.
Returning to the sofa, I settled in to wait, restlessness making my fingers itch for something to do.
My tablet lay on the coffee table where I'd left it earlier, and I picked it up, opening the design files one more time.
The phoenix bottle design stared back at me from the screen—elegant curves suggesting transformation, the neck spiraling upward like smoke or flame.
Master Henri Beaumont had been patient, but I knew he was waiting for the final specifications. With a few quick taps, I attached the files to an email, adding notes about the specific glass treatment I envisioned for the "transformation" effect.
His response came almost immediately: "Exquisite work, as always. The manufacturer will have prototypes within the week. The 'Metamorphosis' collection grows more magnificent with each element you add."
A small smile tugged at my lips. At least something was going right this morning. I was composing my reply when the doorbell rang again.
This time, I tempered my expectations, moving toward the door with measured steps that would have made Sebastian proud. But when I opened it, my caution evaporated.
The woman on our doorstep was everything I'd imagined and nothing like it at all.
Tall and graceful, with honey-blonde hair twisted into an elegant chignon and eyes the color of winter seas. She wore a simple cream dress that somehow looked more expensive than any designer piece, and her smile held both warmth and a hint of mischief.
"Mrs. Vane?" Her voice carried a musical quality, educated but not affected. "I'm Rose Mitchell. I believe your husband mentioned I'd be visiting today?"