Chapter 33
Elora
Four years had passed since that rooftop proposal. The second year after our wedding, I gave birth to Cecilia—a little tyrant destined to rule Genovese Manor from the moment she drew her first breath.
Right now, I stood frozen at the staircase landing, fresh black coffee in hand, staring at the scene before me.
Enzo stood rigidly in the middle of the hallway, his face expressionless. A hot-pink plastic feather boa draped around his neck, and perched perfectly on his head was a glittering pink rhinestone tiara. Rocco crouched nearby, cursing as he yanked at his left foot.
"Goddamn it! Where the hell did this industrial-strength glue come from?" Rocco swore, pulling hard at his shoe, which was glued to the carpet.
"What are you doing?" I stared, wide-eyed.
Enzo's eyes flashed with a desperate plea for rescue. "Ma'am... we were just... accompanying Miss Cecilia for a 'tea party.'"
"Tea party?" I raised an eyebrow. "So you turned the study into this disaster?"
I strode past them toward the study door.
It looked like a small tornado had just ripped through. Papers scattered across the floor, covered in colorful dinosaur stamps. Lucien sat there, expression dark, his jacket wrinkled beyond recognition. Cecilia perched on his lap, holding up a half-licked, sticky strawberry lollipop.
"Daddy, why won't my crown light up anymore?" Cecilia pouted, smearing the candy directly across Lucien's collar, leaving a bright red streak. Lucien's eye twitched violently.
"Because it's plastic, sweetheart." Lucien took a deep breath, his hand gently supporting Cecilia's back, afraid she might fall.
"Cecilia, what are you doing?" I knocked on the doorframe, walking in with a cold expression.
The moment Cecilia saw me, she hid the lollipop behind Lucien's back. Those gray eyes—identical to Lucien's—instantly glazed over with tears, her little mouth trembling. "Mommy..."
"Don't start with me." I set the coffee down heavily on the desk. "How many times have I told you? No playing in the study! And why did you put super glue on the hallway carpet? That's the antique carpet your grandmother had air-shipped last month!"
"I didn't..." The little demon buried her face in Lucien's chest, letting out a pitiful whimper. "Uncle Rocco's shoe got stuck all by itself."
"Now you're lying?" My head throbbed. I reached out to grab her arm.
"Elora, let it go." Lucien immediately turned, blocking my hand. He pulled the fake-crying tyrant closer. "She's only three. What does she know about antique carpets?"
"Keep spoiling her!" I glared at Lucien.
"Last time she took your silencer apart and threw it in the koi pond—you said she was little.
Last week she took scissors and cut notches in every tie in your closet—you said she was little.
Lucien Genovese, are you raising a daughter or training a terrorist? "
"She definitely got that temper from you." Lucien wiped syrup from Cecilia's mouth, looking up, his gray eyes carrying undisguised teasing.
"From me?" I laughed bitterly, hands on the desk. "Mr. Genovese, need I remind you? Natalie said—"
"Okay, okay, my fault!" Lucien surrendered instantly, looking guilty, though his gaze slid shamelessly down my neckline, his voice dropping. "But, dear Mrs. Genovese, are you free tonight?"
His stare burned like fire, heating my ears.
"Stop changing the subject." I straightened, teeth clenched, pointing at the two men still cleaning up outside. "You're punishing her today, or I'm throwing both of you into the doghouse to sleep."
Lucien looked down at Cecilia. She gazed up at him with those glacier-melting doe eyes. Lucien's defenses crumbled in under a second.
"Listen, Ceci." Lucien tried to look stern, but his tone remained gentle. "Next time... next time you use super glue, pick a different place. Like Julian's villa. Understand?"
I couldn't believe my ears.
"Lucien!" I grabbed a folder from the desk and hurled it at his shoulder. "You're hopeless!"
I stormed out. In the hallway, Enzo was still trying to pry that damned pink crown off his bald head, while Rocco limped downstairs, carrying his sole-less boot.
"Tell Anthony to clean the second floor immediately!" I shouted after them. "If I see one speck of glitter in three minutes, I'm throwing you two out with Lucien!"
Enzo and Rocco bolted, scrambling down the stairs.
Dealing with Cecilia was more exhausting than running ten Serenity Essence stores. When I was pregnant with her, everyone said the Genovese family finally had their princess. Even Leo, studying abroad in Europe, swore on video he'd protect his little sister.
The reality? Princess? Joke.
I rubbed my throbbing temples and pushed open the door to my perfume studio. I needed real peace.
I walked to the workstation, reaching for yesterday's half-finished bottle of premium Damascus rose hydrosol.
My hand froze mid-air. My heart stopped. Last night's fresh rose extract was gone, replaced by a grimy plastic yellow duck bucket.
I swallowed hard, my trembling fingers reaching toward the bucket.
A pungent smell—dish soap, ancient mud, and expensive rare ambergris mixed with rose hydrosol—assaulted my nostrils.
The bucket contained thick black sludge, with torn manuscript fragments floating on top.
The core formula I'd spent six months preparing for next month's Paris perfume exhibition!
"Cecilia Genovese!"
Within thirty seconds, Lucien rushed in carrying Cecilia, his face pale. "What happened? Elora! What's wrong?"
I pointed with a shaking hand at the yellow duck bucket, my eyes nearly bleeding red.
"Your precious daughter..." I ground out, "took an entire bottle of premium Caucasian rose hydrosol, two ounces of aged ambergris, plus my face wash and mud from the backyard... and made a pot of 'poison soup'!"
Lucien's gaze fell on the horrific bucket. His Adam's apple rolled painfully. Cecilia huddled in Lucien's arms, her gray eyes darting around, tiny hands clutching his wrinkled collar. "Daddy... that was Ceci making new perfume for Mommy..."
"New perfume?" I laughed coldly, grabbing a stirring rod and pointing it at Lucien's nose. "Lucien, if you defend her one more time today, I swear I'm leaving right now with this mud bucket!"
Lucien finally grasped the severity. He took a deep breath, lifted Cecilia from his arms, and set her on a nearby chair, his face stern. "Cecilia. Look what you've done to your mother. This time you've gone too far."
The little girl's eyes instantly filled with tears, crystal drops falling like broken pearls. "Daddy's mean! You said Ceci is always right!"
"That was before." Lucien looked away guiltily, unable to face her tears. "As punishment, no chocolate ice cream all week. And you apologize to Mommy right now."
Hearing about cancelled ice cream, Cecilia completely broke down. She slid off the chair and wailed, throwing herself at Lucien's legs, sobbing heartbrokenly. "No! I want ice cream! Daddy's a liar! I'm telling Grandma!"
Watching her cry herself breathless, Lucien panicked completely.
"Okay, okay, stop crying..." Lucien crouched down, frantically wiping her tears. "We can negotiate about the ice cream..."
"Bastard!" I gave up completely, grabbing a towel from the workstation and hurling it at Lucien's face. "Lucien, you're a spineless bastard! Both of you get out!"
I shoved the infuriating pair out and locked the door.
Through the heavy wood, I could still hear Lucien's helpless, clumsy coaxing. "Stop crying, sweetheart. If we make your mom run away, we really will have to sleep in the doghouse..."
I slumped against the door, staring at the bucket of ruined expensive materials, sliding down onto the cold marble floor. I covered my face, sinking into deep exhaustion. One hyperactive, lawless three-year-old with a spineless father backing her up was more exhausting than surviving a gunfight.
Late night.
The bedroom had only one warm yellow wall lamp lit. I'd just washed away the day's fatigue and sat at my vanity applying serum. The mattress dipped. Lucien wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, tightening his hold.
"Still angry?" His low, husky voice came against my ear, hot breath spilling across my neck, raising goosebumps.
"Don't touch me." I pushed his hand away coldly. "You promised her outside the studio door today—if she stopped crying, you'd buy her triple strawberry ice cream tomorrow."
Lucien's body stiffened.
"Elora, I was just calming her down." He buried his face in my neck. "She cried like she was dying. You couldn't bear seeing her like that either, right?"
"That's spoiling her. She'll tear this whole manor apart someday."
"Let her tear it apart. As long as you don't leave me, she can use all Genovese property as toys.
" His hands roamed restlessly up my waistline, his callused palms transmitting scorching heat through the thin silk.
"As for that hydrosol, I already had Enzo buy out the entire Paris supplier's stock.
It'll arrive by private plane tomorrow morning. "
"You've got money to burn..." My breathing turned ragged. I tried escaping his embrace.
Lucien didn't give me the chance. He swept me up from the vanity chair, turning and pressing me into the wide, soft bed.
His gray eyes churned with aggressive darkness in the dim light.
He pinned my wrists above my head with one hand, lowering his head, kissing me without warning.
All my resistance and dissatisfaction shattered under this kiss heavy with male hormones.
My hands climbed instinctively up his broad, solid back, fingertips sliding over the old scar on his shoulder blade—left protecting me—deepening the kiss.
"Elora..." He panted, his lips and teeth trailing down my jawline, leaving wet, burning marks. "These past days you've put all your energy into that little demon. You haven't looked at me properly in three days..."