Page 64

Chapter Forty-Three

Lilianna

I’d been woken by Julaina giving me a quick kiss before leaving me to sleep.

I don’t know how long I slept after he left, but when I awoke, I was alone and on the side of my nest was a note.

I smiled, the notes they have been leaving for me since the first one I got from Julian after my panic attack filled me with such joy.

I shifted holding the blanket against me as I read the note, before putting it in the side table drawer with the other notes with a big smile on my face.

His sweet words of love make me feel warm and happy.

I stretched languidly in the nest, my body deliciously sore in places I'd never felt before.

The sheets smelled like Julian—warm and comforting, with traces of wisteria and cloves that made my heart flutter with the memory of last night.

I pulled his pillow closer, breathing in his scent as I tried to process everything that had changed between us.

The house was quiet around me, but not empty. I could hear the distant murmur of voices from downstairs, the familiar sounds of morning routine that had become so precious to me. Coffee brewing, the soft clink of dishes, Christopher's laugh carrying up through the floorboards.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand—nearly ten in the morning.

I'd slept later than usual, my body still recovering from the overwhelming sensations of the night before.

A blush crept up my neck as I remembered Julian's hands on my skin, his lips tracing paths of fire, the weight of him above me.

The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious, something to be cherished rather than possessed.

With a contented sigh, I slipped from the nest, wrapping a soft robe around my naked form.

The mirror above my dresser reflected a woman I barely recognized—eyes brighter, cheeks flushed with a healthy glow, hair tousled from sleep and passion.

I touched my lips, still slightly swollen from Julian's kisses, and smiled at my reflection.

After a quick shower, I dressed in comfortable leggings and an oversized sweater that slipped off one shoulder. My movements felt different somehow—more fluid, more confident, as if my body had finally awakened from a long sleep.

The smell of fresh coffee grew stronger as I descended the stairs, my bare feet silent on the polished wood.

I padded quietly toward the kitchen, pausing for just a second at the corner of the hallway, letting myself watch.

Christopher stood at the stove, sleeves rolled to the elbows of his gray shirt, his expression focused but content.

He turned slices of thick brioche French toast in a pan with careful precision, each one golden and glistening.

A bowl of fresh-cut strawberries and blueberries rested nearby, along with powdered sugar and honey.

He was humming—quietly, under his breath—a song I didn’t recognize.

Miles leaned lazily against the island, shirtless and barefoot, a navy flannel pajama pant slung low on his hips. His tousled hair looked like he’d only half-escaped sleep, and the mug in his hand steamed like a lifeline. He laughed at something Nicolaus had just said.

Nicolaus—ever composed—sat at the far end of the island, sleeves unrolled, collar buttoned despite the casual morning air.

But his posture was relaxed, legs crossed, a ceramic mug held gently between both hands.

His tablet sat idle beside him for once.

He wasn’t working—just being . Watching the room.

It was almost too much to take in. And yet, this felt more like mine than anything ever had. I stepped into the kitchen, finally crossing the threshold.

Miles was the first to spot me. His eyes lit up with a lazy grin as he straightened a bit. “Well, well. Look who finally joined the land of the living.”

“I wasn’t dead,” I said, voice still soft with sleep, “just… very, very comfortable.”

“You looked like you needed it.” Nicolaus spoke without turning, but there was something warm in his voice. Observant. Gentle.

Christopher glanced over his shoulder, flipping another slice of toast as he smiled. “There’s tea on the counter. Your favorite blend. Nicolaus remembered.”

I blinked, surprised—and touched. “Thank you.” I moved toward the counter, finding the delicate blue teapot nestled beside a matching cup. The gesture was so thoughtful it made my chest tighten. As I poured the steaming liquid, I felt Miles's eyes on me, assessing, curious.

"Sleep well?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes knowing.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Very well, thank you." I took a sip of tea to hide my blush, but when I glanced up, all three men were watching me with varying degrees of interest.

Christopher's grin was downright wicked as he slid a plate of French toast onto the island. "Julian had to step out for an early meeting. He looked... exceptionally relaxed this morning."

"Christopher," Nicolaus warned, though there was no real reproach in his tone.

"What?" Christopher shrugged innocently. "I'm just making an observation. Our fearless leader practically floated out the door this morning."

I took another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through my chest as I tried to maintain my composure. "Perhaps he had a good night's sleep as well."

Christopher chuckled, the sound low and knowing. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. There was no judgment in their teasing—only warmth, acceptance, and perhaps a hint of possessive interest that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

"Leave her be," Miles said, though his eyes sparkled with the same knowing look. "She's glowing enough without you making her blush further."

"Am I?" I asked softly, touching my cheek with my fingertips.

"Like the sunrise," Nicolaus confirmed, his gaze softening as it met mine. "It suits you."

Christopher placed a stack of French toast in front of me, the plate artfully arranged with fresh berries and a light dusting of powdered sugar. "Eat," he encouraged. "You need your strength after... sleeping so well."

I laughed despite myself, cutting into the golden French toast. "You're all terrible," I said, but there was no real complaint in my voice.

The easy banter felt natural, comfortable in a way that surprised me.

Before coming here, the thought of discussing anything intimate would have sent me into a panic.

Now, surrounded by their gentle teasing and obvious affection, it felt like another step toward becoming myself.

Miles moved closer, settling onto the stool beside me.

His proximity sent a familiar flutter through my stomach—different from what I felt with Julian, but no less intense.

Where Julian was commanding presence and protective strength, Miles carried a quieter magnetism, like still water that ran impossibly deep.

He didn’t speak right away, just sat there beside me, his knee brushing mine as he sipped his tea. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable—it was charged in a way that made my skin tingle, like the air before a summer storm.

“You’re quiet this morning,” I murmured, daring to glance sideways at him.

“I’m always quiet in the morning,” Miles replied, his voice low and easy, but the tilt of his mouth hinted at something deeper. “Besides, I figured you might need a gentle start to your day.”

I swallowed another bite of French toast, aware of how close he was, of the subtle heat radiating from his body. “Thank you,” I said, genuinely. “This… all of this—it means more than I can say.”

He turned to face me more fully, his elbow resting casually on the island. “You don’t have to say anything. Just seeing you like this…” His gaze moved slowly over my face, lingering a heartbeat too long. “It’s enough.”

Across the kitchen, Nicolaus cleared his throat, clearly pretending not to watch us while absolutely watching us. “Are you still up for reviewing the media plan with Mara later today?”

I blinked, pulled back into the reality of the day ahead. “Yes. I know we need to stay ahead of it.”

“You don’t need to do everything today,” Christopher added, leaning on the counter across from me. “You’ve had a heavy couple of days. And last night…” he trailed off, then smirked, “...was probably a bit intense.”

“Christopher,” Miles said again, his tone dry.

“What? I’m just pointing out she might be sore,” Christopher replied with mock innocence. “That’s a very real side effect of… sleeping well.”

I nearly choked on my tea and set the cup down quickly, laughing despite myself. “You are absolutely the worst.”

“I try,” he said with a wink. “But really, if you want to reschedule, we’ll understand.”

I paused, considering. My body did ache, yes—but not in a way that demanded rest. The ache was a reminder. A good one. “No. I want to meet with Mara. I want to know how we’re going to handle this. I feel… ready.”

“Good,” Nicolaus said, offering a quiet nod of approval. “Then after breakfast, we’ll go over the documents she sent last night. I’ve already flagged the most relevant sections.”

“You haven’t stopped working, have you?” I asked, arching a brow.

He gave the faintest smile. “I took a break to make your tea.” My heart gave a little tug.

They all had their ways of showing care—Julian with his grounding presence, Christopher with humor and warmth, Miles with unspoken steadiness…

and Nicolaus, always noticing the little things, anticipating needs before I voiced them.

I hadn’t asked them to give me this space, but they had, without question.

"That's a significant break by your standards," I teased gently, surprised by my own boldness.

A hint of warmth touched Nicolaus's eyes. "Perhaps I'm learning to prioritize differently."