By evening, the apartment smelled faintly of warm cookies and Rachel's giggles still echoed in the air. But Lucas wasn't done with celebrating.
Bella had thought that baking cookies was enough—that they had laughed, eaten too many sweets, and that was the end of it. But Lucas had that look again: the quiet, unreadable one that meant he was already ten steps ahead of her.
"Go and change," he said suddenly, his tone leaving little room for argument.
Bella blinked at him. "Change? Why? Where are we going?"
His lips curved faintly. "To celebrate properly. Cookies are good, mia cara, but not enough."
She frowned, glancing at Rachel. "But—"
Rachel clapped her hands in delight. "Yay!"
Bella hesitated. "Lucas, really, we don't need—"
"Bella." He said her name like a command, but softer than velvet. "Let me do this. Let me celebrate my wife's happiness."
Of course there was no arguing when he sounded like that. She held Rachel's hand and went inside the room to get ready.
Bella stood before her wardrobe, her heart thudding with nerves. She didn't own many fancy dresses—her life had never called for them. But after a minute of rummaging, she found one she had bought ages ago on sale, thinking she'd never have the courage to wear it. She is still not that far so she might give it a try.
It was simple but elegant, a soft satin slip dress in deep emerald green. The neckline dipped modestly, but the way the fabric clung and flowed around her figure was enough to make her hesitate. Maybe this is too much…
When she stepped out, Lucas was waiting near the door with Rachel, already dressed in a sharp suit. He turned to look at her—and for the first time since she had known him, she saw him lose composure, almost tripping by himself.
His breath caught audibly, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to burn her into memory. Will it look bad if I kiss her right now? But he knew if he started, he wouldn't stop—probably not even when she asked him to. And that was something he never wanted to do—force her.
Bella froze, heat rushing to her face as she noticed his eyes roaming shamelessly over her body. "What? Do I look—"
"Dangerous," he interrupted, his voice husky. He stepped closer, lowering his head so only she could hear. "You are making it hard for me to focus on your face. You'll kill me in that dress, bella."
Her blush deepened. He always teased when she dressed up, always said something outrageous just to make her flush. But this time his eyes betrayed him—they weren't teasing. They were reverent, as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He leaned in, close enough that the promise of a kiss hovered between them. He could stop himself at that, he thought—just one kiss. But Bella, conscious of Rachel's presence, rushed to deflect. "You… you look like a rich businessman tonight."
Lucas blinked, caught off guard. This little wife of mine just changed the subject when I was a breath away from tasting her. Does she not want to kiss me? Am I that terrible? Then he noticed her quick glance toward Rachel and understood.
Lucas smirked, the edge of his teeth showing as he bent close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "I am, mia cara. But what is meant to happen will happen soon enough."
The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. Rachel, completely oblivious, tugged Bella's hand. "Mama, let's go!"
The drive was smooth, Rachel chattering happily in the back seat while Bella's nerves tangled tighter with every passing block. She had never been inside one of those towering luxury hotels—the ones she always admired from afar but never dared to step into.
When Lucas pulled into the circular driveway, Bella's heart sank. The building loomed over them, all glass and steel and glittering lights. The doormen bowed as soon as they saw Lucas. She can't embarrass him in public.
"Lucas," she whispered urgently, clutching her bag like a lifeline. "This is too much. I can't—"
He looked at her, calm and steady. "You can. You're with me."
"But—"
"No buts." He offered his hand as though the matter was already settled. "Trust me."
Her pulse raced, but she slipped her hand into his anyway. His grip was warm, grounding. With his help, Rachel climbed out too, and together they entered the hotel.
Inside, the lobby was breathtaking—chandeliers dripping like frozen starlight, polished marble floors that echoed faintly under her heels, and an arrangement of flowers taller than Rachel herself. Bella felt small, almost out of place, her throat tightening.
Sensing it, Lucas leaned down, his lips brushing close to her hair. "Relax. They cleared it for us."
She blinked up at him. "Cleared…?"
He smirked. "The entire hotel is mine. And tonight, it's only for us."
Her steps faltered. "Yours?"
He guided her forward smoothly. "One of many. But this one's special."
Bella's heart lurched at the casual way he said it, like owning something so grand was as normal as owning a pair of shoes. She swallowed hard, nerves curling in her stomach. But then Rachel squealed, "Mama, look! It's so shiny!" and tugged her hand, and somehow Bella managed a laugh.
Lucas squeezed her fingers once, silently telling her she belonged here—even if she didn't believe it herself.