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"You wanted a football team, Damien," I admonish playfully, propping myself up on my elbows. "I'm not pushing that many kids out of my vagina. I'm no baby factory." Despite my words, I send him a sweet smile. "But you are correct. It's time for Elizabeth to have a sibling."
Damien walks out of the closet with a gleam in his eye and charges at me. I can't contain the scream that slips out, followed by a peal of laughter as I scoot upwards on the bed, holding my hands out in defense.
"None of that, Mr. Blackhart. We can practice the baby making some more after the party,” I tell him.
He growls, a playful, frustrated sound, and walks back to the closet, clearly conceding, leaving an echo of unfulfilled desire hanging in the room.
The water from the shower washes away the remnants of passion, clearing our minds and preparing us for the day ahead. We dress quickly, exchanging knowing glances and soft kisses in between tying shoes and buttoning shirts. Then we're off to prepare. I wanted us to do everything. The living room becomes a whirlwind of color as Damien inflates balloons and I drape streamers across the walls. Our kitchen overflows with scents of baked treats and finger foods as we swiftly move through the motions. Everything is coming together nicely.
I place the last dollop of frosting on the cake, the pink hues and glimmering sprinkle of five candles completing the scene. The doorbell rings just as I set the cake on the designated dessert table.
"I'll get it," I call out before I make my way to the door.
Flipping the latch and pulling the door open, I see Seraphina, who's practically overflowing with bags of all shapes and colors.
"Aunt Sera has finally arrived!" she announces. "Where's my little monster?" she asks eagerly as her eyes glint with the playful title we've bestowed upon Elizabeth.
"She's out back," I tell her, laughter spilling from my lips as she darts like a fairy on a mission, slipping through the rooms and heading straight for the garden where our daughter is playing.
Just as I move to close the door, a black leather boot wedges itself firmly into the doorway. I glance up to see Victor. His face is almost hidden behind a fortress of meticulously wrapped presents.
"A little help would be nice," he grumbles.
I roll my eyes and take a few gifts, enough for him to actually see where he's going. I step aside, granting him entry. Together, we maneuver through the sea of balloons and streamers to reach the present table that's quickly becoming overflowing with just his and Seraphina's gifts alone.
"Seraphina's here," Victor says, a note of surprise and timidity lacing his voice, so uncharacteristic of the man I know to be as unfazed as Damien in nearly every situation. His reaction to seeing Seraphina sends a furrow of confusion across my brow. His usual poise is absent, replaced by a hesitancy that piques my curiosity.
"I'll be right back," he mutters before making his way toward Sera with brisk steps.
I can't help but watch their interaction, as subtle as they believe it to be. They speak in hushed tones, their bodies rigid with a tension that's palpable even from a distance. My eyes widen in astonishment when Victor gently cups Seraphina's cheek, his gaze softening as he looks at her with uncharacteristic tenderness.
It's a fleeting moment, for Seraphina allows it only for an instant before pulling away with her eyes darting around to check if they have become the subject of any unwanted attention.
She says something to Victor, I can't make out the words, but his reaction is evident. His eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and something else. Fear? Concern? It's hard to tell. Seraphina steps away, leaving Victor momentarily still before he gathers himself and returns to the festivities.
I'll have to ask Seraphina what the was about. I make a mental note to ask about it later. Today is not the day for family mysteries. Today is Elizabeth's day, and I'll let nothing distract me from making it as perfect as possible for my baby girl.
The party is in full swing. Smiles and laughter light up the room, echoing off the walls like a melody of pure joy. Colors swirl as the children dash around with giggles bursting from their lips while Damien, my Damien, chases them, growling and pretending to be a monstrous beast from their wildest imaginations. The kids shriek with delight, weaving around furniture and slipping under his outstretched arms. On the veranda, mothers lounge comfortably, sipping lemonades and sinking deep into conversations, their laughter mingling with the kids'.
It's a perfect scene from an outsider's view. A normal family doing normal things. No one would suspect the silent guards concealed in the shadows, their eyes vigilant for the hint of any threat that might dare to intrude upon us. Damien may still be the CEO of Blackhart Enterprises, but he is the king of the elite underworld. His name may whisper fear in his enemies, but they are his enemies, nonetheless. The joyful chaos makes it easy to ignore the doorbell's distant chime as it reaches my ears. I'm too caught up in the moment, giggling as I watch my husband fall into his role as the cherished monster.
"Hey, kiddo!" a cheery voice pulls me from the playful scene.
"George!" I say as my face breaks into a wide smile. "I'm so glad you came."
George has been my rock, the unwavering support I stumbled upon when my life was a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty. From the moment I darted into his quaint little town, seeking refuge, to this moment of love and happiness. When the turmoil calmed at home, I returned to his diner in that sleepy town. Not just to tie up the loose ends of my retreat but to offer him the truth he deserved. He knew there was more beneath my restless gaze, and when I finally bared my soul, his reaction was nothing short of fatherly.
Much to my surprise, he insisted on meeting Damien, the man entangled deeply in my life. Their first encounter was a battle of auras, Damien's perilous edge clashing with George's paternal shield. Neither man was willing to fold, but they uncovered a shared resolve to see me safe and content. Their initial tension softened into a cautious respect. He's been a presence in our lives ever since. Elizabeth even calls him Grandpa. My thoughts scatter as Maggie's voice slices through the warmth of the moment.
"What am I, chopped liver?" she says with a mock pout, and in an instant, we're all laughing.
The party buzzes with the carefree exuberance of children and the bubbling chatter of adults. I'm basking in the warmth of family and friends, celebrating Elizabeth's birthday. When I glance over, I see Seraphina flitting from group to group, like the master social butterfly she is. She laughs and shines brightly, illuminating everything with her presence, but pointedly avoids Victor, who watches her every move with hawk-like intensity. His eyes follow her, never straying long.
The joyous chorus of "Happy Birthday" fills the air, sweet and slightly off-key, as Elizabeth blows out her candles with a toothy grin. It's a whirlwind of wrapping paper and ribbons as she opens her presents, her gasps of delight punctuating every reveal. Then comes the moment for cake. The slices are generous, and the frosting is decadent. A sugary delight that I ensure reaches every plate. As I cut the last piece of cake, a voice penetrates the happy din, fresh and mocking.
"Sorry, I'm late. It seems my invitation got lost in the mail." Julian makes his presence known. Since he and Damien worked together to rescue Seraphina and me, Julian has enjoyed an unusual orbit within our circle, coming and going at random times.
"Julian," Damien acknowledges with a nod. "Come have some cake."
