The apartment was still. Lucas had long come out of the shower and was busy checking some files. The silence that lingered after the morning conversation felt heavier than it should have. Bella busied herself in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as she chopped vegetables with deliberate focus.
In the living room, Lucas sat with his phone in hand—the one Bella didn't know about. The one he used only when Moscow needed his attention. His eyes hardened when he saw no new updates, and he dialed.
"Mark." His tone was velvet and steel at once.
Bella tilted her head at the sound, catching only the calmness in his voice. A business call, she guessed.
"Find him. I don't want excuses. Whoever's feeding Moscow information—bring me his head." His voice was low, threaded with danger, but controlled enough to pass as a CEO giving sharp instructions.
He ended the call just as Bella's knife hit the cutting board. She glanced up, curious, but he was already pushing to his feet, expression unreadable. For a moment, he stood there, as if choosing to set aside the weight of the call before walking toward her.
When she turned back to her cooking, she didn't notice him until his arms slipped around her waist from behind.
"Lucas—" Her voice caught in surprise, her hands frozen mid-stir. Why did this man keep making her heart race since morning?
"You shouldn't stand too long," he murmured against her ear. His hands splayed across her belly, firm but protective. "You're carrying my child. Let me take the weight."
Her chest tightened, though she managed a quiet laugh. Does he even know what effect his touches have on me? "I can handle cooking, you know."
"You shouldn't have to. You should've asked me to help, Bella." His nose brushed her hair, inhaling deeply, leaving her utterly still. His voice lowered, unguarded. "Your hair smells like vanilla. Sweet. I could breathe it in forever… even with my last breath."
Bella froze, her throat tightening as her hand found his where it pressed against her stomach. She didn't like the sound of last breath. He had become a part of her life now, and the idea of being separated from him made her chest ache.
"You're being dramatic," she whispered at last.
"Maybe." His lips curved faintly against her temple. "But I've never wanted calmness like this before. Never wanted someone like this before."
The words landed heavy in her chest, making her heart stumble. She stirred the pot just to keep her hands busy. She liked this calmness too—his embrace, the way he anchored her.
He didn't move, didn't let her slip away. And when she finally smiled at something silly he said, he realized he was addicted to that curve of her lips—addicted to being the reason for it.
Minutes stretched into the entire meal cooked in his embrace—her moving, him shadowing her every step, whispering observations that made her laugh when she least expected it.
Finally, she broke the spell with a soft, practical nudge. "Go pick up Rachel before you make me burn lunch."
He brushed his lips against her hair, unwilling to let go. "Only because you asked."
When he returned, Rachel skipped happily at his side. In his other hand, Bella noticed something else—a bouquet of fresh flowers, vibrant and full.
Her brows arched. "What's this for?"
He set the bouquet on the counter as if it weighed nothing. "There doesn't need to be a reason to appreciate beauty." His gaze lingered not on the flowers but on her.
Bella's cheeks warmed, and she quickly turned back to the stove.
Rachel giggled, bouncing in place. "Mama's blushing!"
Bella shot Lucas a glare, but he only smirked, leaning casually against the counter, watching her as if she were the only thing worth seeing.
The entire lunch carried that same energy—him stealing glances, her pretending not to notice, Rachel chattering in the background. And though no one said the word aloud, it hung between them like an unspoken truth.
---
After lunch, Rachel claimed the living room floor, her crayons and picture books scattered like confetti as she hummed happily to herself.
Bella sat on the couch with her laptop perched on her knees, trying to finish a couple of forms. But her mind kept wandering—half toward Rachel's messy rainbow sunflowers, and half toward the email tab she had been refreshing every five minutes.
Lucas, of course, noticed. He sat opposite her, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, phone in his other hand. His sharp gaze kept flicking from Bella's anxious little frown to the glowing screen.
"You'll bore a hole through the screen if you keep glaring like that," he said smoothly, amusement curling in his voice.
"I'm not glaring," Bella muttered, chewing her bottom lip. "I'm just… waiting."