Chapter 132 132. Marry Me, Fiera?
The scent of cedar filled my nostrils as my eyes fluttered open. Lucien was still asleep beside me. Dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one arm thrown across my waist even in sleep.
God, he was beautiful.
I couldn't resist. I pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. He stirred slightly but didn't wake. I smiled and carefully extracted myself from his grip, padding across the cool floor to the massive windows.
The villa had stone walls, terracotta roof, surrounded by rolling hills dotted with olive trees. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Vienna stretched out in the distance, a perfect blend of old-world charm and modern beauty.
I didn't remember arriving here last night. Lucien must have carried my tired ass from the jet and car.
Yesterday was perfect. The gifts, the penthouse, the surprise party, the flight here with his arms around me. This birthday would be impossible to top.
"Not with a man like Lucien," my inner voice reminded me.
Okay, yeah, maybe Lucien would outdo himself every year, and now I wished my next birthday wasn't 364 days away.
I wrapped my arms around myself. Clara would have been fifty-three now. Would she have called to wish me happy birthday? Would she have cared?
I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away. She didn't deserve space in my mind anymore. Not here, not now, not on this beautiful morning with the man I loved sleeping just feet away.
"Thinking too hard this early, Fiera?"
I jumped slightly as strong arms wrapped around me from behind. Lucien's chest pressed against my back, his chin resting on my shoulder as he pulled me flush against him.
"Just admiring the view," I said, leaning into him.
"Mmm." His lips pecked behind my ear. "I'm admiring a much better view."
I giggled as his hands splayed across my stomach, then slowly moved upward. One hand cupped my breast through the thin silk of my sleep shirt, squeezing gently.
"Lucien!" I gasped as he pinched my nipple lightly.
"What? I'm just saying good morning." His other hand mirrored the first, palming my other breast. "Good morning, beautiful. And good morning to you too."
"You're talking to my boobs."
"They deserve their own greeting." He pinched again, rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers until I was squirming against him. "Look how responsive they are. So polite."
I elbowed him gently, but I was laughing. "You're ridiculous."
He spun me around, capturing my lips in a kiss that tasted like sleep and promise.
"Good morning, mi amor. How does it feel to be hot n' sexy in Vienna?"
"Perfect," I whispered. "Absolutely perfect."
"Hold still, Fiera, or I'm going to end up pinning your skin to the corset instead of the lace," Lucien chuckled, his fingers fumbling with the intricate silk ties at the small of my back.
"Maybe if you hadn't chosen a dress with fifty hidden hooks, we'd actually be on time," I teased, looking at my reflection.
The dress was a masterpiece of midnight. A gown of heavy black velvet and obsidian silk that pooled around my feet like ink. I looked like a fallen queen, especially with the intricate silver-and-black lace mask resting on the vanity, waiting to hide my identity. Lucien was already suited up in a matching charcoal doublet and a heavy, fur-lined cloak that made him look like a dark prince from a bygone era.
"We are exactly on time," he insisted, finally tightening the last string. He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "Now, where are those golden-edged tickets? I left them right by the-"
He paused after picking up the two embossed envelopes from the dresser. He frowned, his eyes scanning the fine print. One second passed. Then five.
"Lucien?"
"Fiera..." He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "You know how I said the masquerade was tonight?"
"Yes..."
"It's actually the twenty-eighth." He turned the ticket toward me. "Of next month."
I stared at the ticket, then at our heavy, elaborate costumes, then back at his handsome, horrified face. A beat of silence stretched between us before I burst into a fit of giggles that made my corset strain.
"We are dressed like 18th-century royalty for an event that doesn't exist yet!" I gasped, clutching my stomach.
Lucien began to laugh too, a deep, rich sound that echoed through the villa.
"I saw '28th' and just assumed. I was so focused on the surprise, I skipped the month." He looked down at his heavy cloak. "Well, we can't exactly go to a bistro looking like this. We'd be the main attraction."
"Then let's be the main attraction somewhere else," I said, eyes dancing with mischief. "Take me to the water!"
The looks we got were nothing short of legendary.
The sun was beginning its slow descent, and the shore was dotted with tourists in swimsuits and locals in light linen. Then, there was us: a woman in a sweeping black Victorian-inspired gown and a man in a full Renaissance-style regalia, trekking through the sand.
"Look at that man's cloak!" a child pointed, whispering to his mother.
Lucien didn't even flinch. He caught my hand, swinging it between us. "Ignore them, mi amor. They simply weren't invited to our private ball."
I kicked off my heels, letting them dangle from my fingers as the cool, wet sand squished between my toes. "Race you to the pier!"
"In that dress? You'll trip and-"
I didn't wait for him to finish. I gathered the heavy black skirts in my arms, exposing my legs, and bolted toward the shoreline.
"That's cheating!" Lucien shouted, laughing as he shed his heavy cloak and threw it onto the sand, sprinting after me.
The sight was utterly ridiculous. My black silks flew behind me like a dark cloud as I dodged a confused golden retriever and its even more confused owner. Lucien's long strides ate the distance easily. He grabbed me by the waist, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around as the first waves of the tide lapped at our feet.
The salt air filled my lungs, and once again, the weight of the world felt non-existent. We ran through the shallows, splashing each other until my expensive hem was soaked and heavy with seawater, and his crisp white shirt was clinging to his chest. We didn't care. We were two fools in love, haunting a beach in the wrong clothes at the right time.
Eventually, our lungs burning with happy exhaustion, we collapsed onto the sand. The sun was a giant, bruised orange, dipping low into the Adriatic, staining the water in hues of violet and gold.
Lucien sat behind me, pulling me back against his chest, his heart beating a steady rhythm against my spine. We watched the sky change in silence, the only sound the rhythmic pulse of the ocean.
"Camila," he whispered, his voice suddenly losing its playful edge.
I turned my head slightly to look at him. The sunset was reflecting in his dark eyes, making them glow. He wasn't looking at the horizon anymore; he was looking at me with an intensity that made my heart flutter.
Slowly, he reached into the pocket of his damp trousers. He stayed right there on the sand, opening a small velvet box, and even in the fading light, the diamond sparkled like a fallen star.
"I don't need a masquerade or a ballroom to know what I want," he said, his voice low and commanding, yet vibrating with a raw vulnerability I'd only ever seen in our quietest moments. "I want every morning with you, whether in Vienna, Cuba, Hong Kong, wherever. I want every ridiculous mistake. I want the girl who runs through the sand in a ball gown just because she can."
He took my hand, his thumb grazing my knuckles.
"Camila Aveline Sterling, you've shown me that love isn't weakness, but the bravest thing we can do.
I know we've talked about marriage, but I need to ask you properly. Here, now, while you're dressed like a queen and I'm dressed like an idiot, on a beach in Vienna... will you spend the rest of your life being brave with me?
Will you be my wife, my partner, my Fiera for the rest of our lives?"
The world stopped. The waves froze, the wind died down, and all I could see was the man who had carried me when I was too tired to walk and loved me when I felt unlovable. My heart hammered against my ribs, a wild, frantic thing.
"Lucien..."