60. Chapter 60
A ria
The night was alive with the steady chirp of crickets through the open windows, the sounds threading gently into the house like music only the evening could hear.
The sun had been generous that day, as if to mark their successful takeover, casting golden approval across London's brick and stone, warming even the coldest corners of the city.
The warmth lingered just enough to keep the evening chill from sinking its claws too deep.
Though October still kissed the air, the weather had been gentle today.
The house was full of warmth and voices.
Aria was snuggled deep into the indulgent softness of the new cushioned and plush Wildwood sofa, the kind of that made getting up a crime.
Delivered just three days ago, its pale ash-grey fabric practically begged for lounging, and Aria had made it her nest. Crispin handed Aria her glass of sparkling water with a slice of lime and a pinch of salt before settling beside her with his wine in hand.
His arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her in until she rested against his side.
Aria sighed and tugged the knit patchwork quilt tighter around her, its warm weight and mismatched colours a perfect contrast to the laziness of the evening.
The toast had already been made, the boardroom battles honoured with grins, clinks, and jabs about who was the biggest idiot.
Across from them sat Alice and Dorian with an impressive bottle of Brunello di Montalcino Riserva 2015 Imperial open on the table, decanted and gleaming like dark rubies in the firelight .
Aria had already given Lule an excited retelling of the day's events, who had declared with a delighted screech, "Your life is better than Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, babe!"
Then, more seriously, "You'd better take care of yourself. Tell Crispy I said no stress and maximum snacks."
Aria had grinned as she relayed the comment to the others, while in the background, Rahul's voice could be heard saying something about that being enough gin for today before being shushed.
"She promised to call tomorrow," Aria added, eyes twinkling.
Crispin, Alice, and Dorian were halfway drunk and glowing with the slow-blooming euphoria of victory, bittersweet as it was.
They raised a toast to the downfall of the patriarchy, to Aria's quiet power move, and to Ophelia's last words.
"To the dead who still know how to strike hardest," Crispin murmured, tapping his glass to Alice's.
Dorian grinned, swirling his wine. "To women with legal documentation and better timing than a sniper."
Dorian exhaled dramatically. "Aria, we're going to need a crane to get you off that sofa. "
She smiled serenely, like a laughing buddha. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I can practically see the permanent indent forming. You may as well declare squatter's rights." He flicked a glance at Crispin, lifting his glass. "So, this is it, huh? Shackled for life? A man, slave to cravings and crankiness at three a.m."
“A ball and chain," Aria offered cheerfully.
"A very sexy ball and chain, who has me wrapped around her little finger," Crispin added, not missing a beat.
Aria leaned back with a mock sigh. "I'm going to find your hidden portrait, Dorian. I know there's one in an attic somewhere. You're too evil to be untouched by time."
"You've read Dorian Gray ?"
"No, I slept on it. It diffused straight into my brain," Aria deadpanned. "Yes, of course, I have read it. Ophelia made me."
The room erupted in laughter, and for the first time, no one held anything back.
Crispin smirked. "And now... Alice, you owe us."
She sipped her wine slowly, eyes narrowed. "Owe you what? I think it should be the other way around. "
"Who is this mystery husband of yours?" Dorian asked. Alice had put them off when Crispin had furiously asked her how she could keep such a huge secret from him after the boardroom meeting.
Alice hesitated, and for a moment, her perfect poise faltered. A strange expression flickered across her face, half mischief, half...something else.
"It's no one you know," she said.
"But we'd like to," Crispin said, narrowing his eyes.
She hesitated again. "His name is Sten Aland."
Crispin blinked. " The Sten Aland?"
"The restaurateur?" Dorian added. "The, three Michelin stars, owns half of Mayfair, and has a pilot's license for fun, Sten Aland?"
Alice nodded. "That one."
"You married a man who runs a culinary empire and didn't even invite us to the tasting menu?
The waiting list for a table at the Linea is as long as the distance between the earth and the moon," Crispin said, his tone turning suspicious.
"How long have you known him? Weren't you with that guy.
..Emilio something. This is rather sudden. "
But Alice didn't respond. Her gaze drifted to the window, momentarily distant.
"You can say we are old friends. He's private, so am I.
But you will have your table at the Linea.
I'll arrange a dinner so you can meet Sten.
" She stood, brushing imaginary creases from her sleek scarlet dress.
"Thank you for the wine. And congratulations, Aria. Truly."
"Congratulations to you, too," Aria said softly.
Alice nodded once, and with a swirl of her coat, she was gone.
Dorian and Crispin exchanged a look.
One that said We are absolutely getting to the bottom of this.
Later, after the door closed behind Dorian, Aria was halfway through locking up when Crispin trapped her between himself and the front door.
He turned her around and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her slow and deep. She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck.
"Thank you," he said against her lips.
"You're welcome," she murmured back.
Then, smiling, she added, "I've gotten used to all this, you know. Expensive sofas, sparkling water with salt, not cleaning toilets... Don't think I can go back. "
It was a joke.
But Crispin stilled, his eyes darkening with sudden seriousness.
"If I have it my way," he said, cupping her face, "you'll never lift a finger again unless you want to. I'll wrap you in cotton wool, Aria. Quilted, colour-matched, extra-thick. Marry me, Aria."
She only laughed and kissed him again.