Chapter 230 Feeding disaster
Chapter 230 Feeding disaster
The roar of the industrial warehouse doors sliding shut behind them echoed into the damp night air, but Elisa didn't care about the noise. She was already inside the safety of Ridge's car, her hands wrapped tightly around a warm bottle of water Matteo had handed her before locking the rear partition.
Ridge slid into the driver’s seat, slamming his door shut and cutting off the howling wind off the bay. He clicked his seatbelt into place, his hands steadying on the steering wheel as the dashboard instruments lit up with a familiar, calming amber glow.
He glanced over his shoulder through the rearview mirror, checking on her. Elisa had her knees pulled up slightly against the plush leather seat, her red hair falling messily across her shoulders, her dark eyes reflecting the soft dashboard lights.
"You okay?" Ridge asked, his voice low and raspy, carrying the lingering residue of absolute panic.
Elisa let out a long, shuddering breath, taking a slow sip of the water before setting it down in the cup holder. "I've had better Tuesdays, Lockhart," she muttered, though a faint, exhausted smirk touched the corners of her lips. "If your idea of a romantic date night is getting ambushed by a scarred psychopath in a spa and dragged to a shipping yard, you need to rethink your itinerary."
A genuine, albeit tired, laugh broke through Ridge’s tight chest. He shifted the car into drive, easing the heavy vehicle away from the decaying concrete of the docks and heading out onto the open highway toward home.
"Noted," Ridge said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead while his right hand reached across the console, his fingers intertwining firmly with hers. "Next time, we're sticking to a quiet dinner where nobody points a gun at you."
"There better not be a next time," Elisa warned softly, though she didn't let go of his hand. In fact, she squeezed his fingers tighter, grounding herself in the solid, warm reality of his touch. The terrifying blur of the spa, the shattered glass, and Vicenzo’s sneering face were already fading into the background, replaced by the rhythmic hum of the tires against the pavement and the comforting scent of his cologne.
They rode in comfortable silence for the next twenty minutes, the city lights blurring past the bulletproof windows. The nightmare was over. Vicenzo was gone, swallowed up by a vendetta older than their marriage, and Rafaele’s men were already erasing any trace of the confrontation from the docks.
When the familiar gates of the Lockhart estate parted automatically for them, sliding open to welcome the car up the winding, tree-lined drive, Elisa felt the last remaining knots of tension finally unspool from her shoulders.
Ridge parked the car in front of the grand doors of the mansion. Before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, Elisa leaned over the center console, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder.
Ridge immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, resting his chin on top of her head as he breathed in the scent of lavender and smoke.
"We're home," Ridge murmured against her hair.
"I know," Elisa whispered back, closing her eyes. "Let's go see our baby."
The front doors of the Lockhart estate swung open to reveal a scene of absolute, domestic chaos.
Before Ridge and Elisa could even step out of the grand foyer, the frantic, high-pitched wails of baby Sunny pierced the air, echoing off the high ceilings like a siren.
And standing right in the middle of it all, looking like he had just survived an explosion, was Andrew.
He was fresh back from classes,stood frozen in the center of the formal living room, wearing a school blazer that was completely unbuttoned, a tie hanging loosely like a noose, and his hair standing up in wild, static tufts. In one hand, he was holding a half-empty, leaking baby bottle upside down, dripping formula onto an expensive Persian rug, while in the other arm, he bounced a screaming Sunny with wide, panicked eyes.
Surrounding him on the floor was a war zone of parenting disaster: a scattered box of baby wipes torn to shreds, three different pacifiers coated in dust bunnies, an open diaper changing kit spilled across a velvet ottoman, and old Arthur standing nearby with a damp cloth, looking as if he were trying to negotiate with a tiny terrorist.
"I didn't do anything!" Andrew yelled over the top of Sunny’s piercing screams, his voice cracking with teenage desperation as he spotted his brother walking in. "He started crying the second I walked through the door! I tried giving him the bottle, I tried changing him, I tried singing a Drake song nothing is working! He hates me now! I think he's plotting my execution!"
Mrs. Higgins hurried out from the hallway, holding a fresh burp cloth and looking thoroughly exhausted. "Master Andrew attempted to boil water in a microwave, Mr. Lockhart. It was... an eventful twenty minutes."
Elisa blinked, staring at the absolute wreckage of her living room before a loud, booming laugh burst out of her. The tension, the terror of the kidnapping, and the heavy adrenaline of the docks evaporated instantly, replaced by the sheer absurdity of walking home to a domestic disaster zone.
"Oh, sweetie," Elisa chuckled, shaking her head as she kicked off her heels and marched straight past Andrew into the living room. She held out her arms. "Give me my baby before you accidentally launch him through a window."
With a look of profound, heavenly relief, Andrew practically hurled the crying infant into Elisa’s arms. Sunny’s shrieks subsided by at least fifty percent the exact second he felt his mother’s familiar embrace, settling down into a grumpy, hiccuping sniffle.
Ridge stood in the doorway, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, looking at the milk-soaked rug, the frazzled boy, and his baby now resting peacefully against Elisa’s chest. The contrast between facing down an international mafia syndicate an hour ago and dealing with a spit-up crisis at home was staggering.
"Next time," Ridge dryly remarked, stepping over a stray baby wipe and walking over to wrap an arm around Elisa’s waist, looking down at Sunny with a soft, affectionate smile, "we leave Arthur in charge of homework duty."
"Hey, I kept him alive!" Andrew protested, running a hand through his already ruined hair. "That counts as an A-plus in parenting."