Two years ago…
Elizabeth
Last night was utterly, overwhelmingly hectic. Bruce had transferred all my sewing equipment—every tool, every piece of fabric, every bit of my work—into Sebastian's house just five minutes before we returned from his godfather's place. I had no idea Sebastian had been quietly waiting for me to move in with him, and it suddenly made sense why bringing my sewing tools here seemed to give him the perfect excuse to make it happen.
I was shocked to see all my belongings—my sewing machines, my luggage, even my personal items—already packed and waiting in his house. When Natasha called to tell me that one of Sebastian's bodyguards was helping move everything and she was assisting as well, I demanded an explanation.
Sebastian, of course, murmured something I couldn't hear—a soft, inaudible string of words he claimed were his explanation. From what I managed to gather, he was worried that if he asked me to move in, I might hesitate or put the answer on hold. That was one clear line I could piece together from his quiet mumbling.
I expected him to be forceful, even demanding: Don't ask me, young lady! Instead, he seemed embarrassed to explain his reasons, stumbling in a way that completely defied my expectations.
I didn't argue. Honestly, I didn't have the energy or time, especially with the mountain of work waiting for me through the night. I ended up staying up much later than usual, exhausted from unpacking and organizing everything.
Sebastian helped carry the luggage into our room. I had intended to place it in the spare room—the one that had been mine since we started dating a year ago—but he seemed determined to fit everything into our shared space.
While he busied himself putting things in order, I focused on my sewing machine and unfinished tasks. But I couldn't help noticing the gleam of amusement on his face. There was something quietly joyous about him as he arranged everything—calm, happy, excited, even relieved. Was it because I had finally moved in unnoticed, or was there another reason behind that smile?
Maybe he'd won a contract—I had no idea.
I was deeply immersed in my work when I felt his lips press against the nape of my neck. A moment later, he darted toward the bed to grab his Apple laptop.
I frowned, curious, and glanced at him. He looked completely absorbed in his screen. As if sensing my stare, he sent me a message that made my phone buzz.
I checked.
Seb: Thank God one of my wishlist items has been fulfilled tonight. I thought you'd argue, fight, or even pack up your remaining things and leave if I had asked you to move in. 😉
Ah, so that had been his plan all along.
I texted back—why were we texting when we were just inches apart?
Me: You're a fox. In fact… a tortoise. Sly and cunning. This was your trick, huh? You'll pay for it later—after I finish these clothes. 😡
He turned toward me with a devilish grin. I knew exactly what that meant… very rated for new adults. Not for kids.
Seb: God, I can't wait. 😏 How long will it take you to finish? I want you to make me suffer, honey. 😘
Me: You're so silly. Duh-uh.
Seb: What are you wearing underneath your nightie? Lingerie? Lace? Cotton? Thong?
Me: [Smirk] Perhaps… nothing.
He spun toward me as if I'd just told him I was pregnant, tossing his laptop aside.
"Seb?" I jumped off my chair as he started moving toward me.
"Allow me to see it." He lunged, but I dodged, and suddenly we were chasing each other around the room like cats and dogs.
"No! My period finished yesterday!" I leapt onto the bed, clutching two pillows like armor.
Damn, this was fun. Maybe I'd spare a little of the night just to enjoy this ridiculous, sweet chaos with my boyfriend.
He looked exasperated, almost ready to cry. "Damn, baby girl! I spent a whole week waiting for your river to dry, and this is what I get? Hell no. Get down here!"
I bounced on the bed like a toddler, tossing one pillow at him. He caught it in a single swift move.
He snorted, clearly plotting his next move. "You don't even know how to play cat and mouse properly."
"Shut up!" I giggled, smacking his head with the pillow before bouncing back to my position.
"Should I teach you?" He crept closer, and now I had only one pillow left as a shield.
Damn me.
"Seb?" I warned, stepping back until my butt hit the headboard. My cheeks flushed a deep red as he advanced, a sexy smirk playing on his lips.
"Look at you… you're so clueless when it comes to sex," I teased.
"Clueless is an understatement… you drive me insane. Now—come here."
"AHH!" I squealed, half in shock, half in laughter, when he finally caught me and we tumbled onto the bed together.
Our laughter filled the room until he whispered, "Finally got you in my arms, princess. I told you—you can't play me."
I wrapped my legs around him, smacking his head with a pillow. "You're way too naughty! Didn't you see the pile of work waiting for me?"
"Not just you. I have an early morning flight to the Czech Republic tomorrow," he said, grinning. "But I want to spend this quality moment with you, sugar."
"Then go to sleep on time," I murmured, running my fingers through the long strands of hair that had fallen over his shoulders. "You don't want to miss your flight… or should I make you some green tea?"
"Nah," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I have my jet, so the flight's not a problem. Besides, I want my green tea right here… on the bed."
I giggled, shaking my head. He was impossibly naughty and sweet at the same time. "Seb… didn't you notice the sewing machine over there?"
He trailed kisses down my nape to my chest, making me close my eyes and bite my lower lip. "Just a few minutes with you… then you can get back to work."
The reality hit me, and I snapped out of it. "Seb… use a condom!"
---
Moments later, I was back at my sewing machine. Seb was already fast asleep under the sheets, looking completely disheveled after the rollercoaster ride we'd just had.
I was nearly finishing the last dress when a yawn escaped me, and I glanced up at the wall clock.
Past 11 p.m.
God, could time just slow down a little? I had started sewing around 8:30, right after our… escapade, and now it was almost midnight—and I was still wide awake.
I checked on Seb again. In his sleepy haze, he shifted, his arm stretching across the empty space beside him, searching for me. His hand paused when it landed on a pillow.
I finished the last piece, folding the clothes into a neat pile, when I heard his drowsy, slurred voice. "Baby… are you not… done yet… come to bed… I'm… lonely…"
His words plastered a smile across my face, making me blush. I tied my hair into a messy bun and climbed into bed. Snuggling close, I felt him reach for me in his sleep, pulling me into his embrace. I rested my head on his chest, and before I even realized it, I drifted off. All I knew was that he was the best person to spend time with.
---
I woke early the next morning—just like Seb. He didn't linger in the gym, finishing a quick thirty-minute workout before heading off to his early-day duty in the Czech Republic.
He almost skipped breakfast, saying he didn't have time and had to be there in two hours. I quickly arranged a hot flask of breakfast for him, which he promised to have on the plane.
After a quick shower, I left the house shortly after Seb departed. I followed the addresses from my emails, delivering orders as efficiently as possible. The task took nearly the entire day before I remembered I still had to attend Thursday's holy communion service at church.
Then I checked my phone, wondering if Seb might have called.
Nothing yet. Not even a text. I figured he must be swamped with work. I started drafting a message but quickly deleted it—didn't want to disturb him. Besides, he had promised to be home tonight.
Holy communion service at church today was amazing. I scribbled down most of the points the archbishop preached, trying to absorb everything. Nobody knew I was there; I'd long stopped wearing my cloak. Now that I'd lost my V-card, I could sit freely among the congregation. Only the priest seemed to notice me.
My phone vibrated in my bag mid-sermon. I checked it and saw a message from Sebastian. A giddy flutter rose in my chest—I had been anticipating his calls all morning.
Seb: Hello, Princess. How's your day going? Are you home yet? I just finished in Czech and will be boarding home soon. Catch you in an hour. 😘
Seb would be back in an hour… and I was still stuck in church.
Damn.
I kept checking the clock, counting the minutes until I could rush home to meet my Prince Charming.
As soon as the service ended, I grabbed my purse and hurried to my purple Chevrolet Corvette E-Ray, parked in the church garage. I opened the passenger door and tossed my purse inside when I heard someone call my name.
"Elizabeth?"
I turned. "Priest?" I closed the door and walked over. "Hi."
He looked as cheerful and warm as always. "Elizabeth, I want to sincerely thank you for supporting the children's annual Thanksgiving and charity foundation. Your donations… and your generosity… it's incredible."
When I first heard about the children's ceremony coming up in a few weeks, I jumped in to support it too. It wasn't much—just a million dollars.
"Oh, please, priest," I said, feeling my cheeks warm. I always got embarrassed when people praised me for such things. "I'm not God. Besides, it's always been my dream to help and support kids ever since I joined the ministry of this church."
He clasped his hands earnestly. "I'm thanking you again—on behalf of myself, the protocols, and the entire committee of ministers. The kids will be overjoyed at this year's Thanksgiving camp. Honestly, we weren't expecting this from you."
Oh God… my cheeks were burning now. People were casting glances, and I felt a little self-conscious.
I held his hand lightly. "I know." I still had to stop by the grocery store for a few things for tonight—Sebastian wouldn't touch anything his chefs or maids made. "Remember, God doesn't come down to show His powers. He works through us. He sends someone to be a blessing in the lives of others."
"May the good Lord bless you." He sighed deeply. "The Lord ministered to me about you last night. It's good news. I wanted to share it before anyone told me about your deeds in church today."
Wow… I couldn't wait to hear it. "Hmm, interesting. It's been a long time since I had a revelation."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "The Lord said I should tell you… you will deliver, like the Hebrew women."
Really? This has to be a joke, right? I laughed, but his frown told me he was serious.
"I'm being serious, Elizabeth," he said firmly.
Okay… maybe he was, but I didn't want to believe it. "I'm sorry, but this is funny. Look, I'm not even pregnant. My period finished two days ago. How is this possible? I'm not Mary from the Bible."
He placed his hands gently on my stomach, and I jerked back.
"But I see babies coming. If not now, then in the near future. I prophesy that your womb is blessed. You shall be fruitful, replenish the earth, and multiply in all your ways."
This… is really happening? I removed his hands from my stomach. "Priest… this is getting ridiculous. I'm seriously not pregnant. Where is all this coming from?"
"The Lord's," he said, and I furrowed my brows. Then he added something that pushed me a little over the edge. "Where's your husband?"
Seriously? This is getting ridiculous. "Okay, another sarcastic question. Priest, I think you're just overwhelmed by the children's donation. I understand."
"No," he frowned, the seriousness in his eyes unmistakable. "Because I see great news coming your way, Elizabeth Barros."
"By saying I'm pregnant?" Hell no. "No way. Fine! I have a boyfriend," I admitted. "Yes, I know—but I'm not even married to him yet, let alone engaged. I don't even know if our relationship is going in the right direction, or if it's going to last. We've been… fooling around for a year now. And you're talking about marriage, husband, and babies? No, priest. Maybe you should go baptize again."
He sighed and shook his head. "Elizabeth, everything I'm saying now… it's not happening immediately. It needs time."
"I need time to build my career first, not babysit babies, priest," I said, trying not to sound aggressive or rude.
"Can I see your boyfriend in church by Sunday? I want to have a word with him—why he's not coming with you."
Wait… what?
I tried not to laugh, but it slipped out in a slightly exasperated tone. "Oh, priest… you're going to make me cry now. You're worried why my boyfriend doesn't come to church with me? Of course it's because he's not a churchgoer. Sebastian? The man I know would never, ever step into a church—not in this life, not in the next. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of chores waiting at home. Good day, priest. See you on Sunday."
I waved him off without waiting for a reply and drove off.
Everything he said vanished from my mind the moment I stepped into the grocery shop. I grabbed a few things and was back in my car, speeding down the highway.
I checked the dashboard—exactly 7 p.m. Damn. I was almost an hour late getting home. I stomped harder on the gas, taking the Corvette up to full speed. The road was thankfully clear.
---
When I got home, I didn't see Sebastian's recent car—the one that had taken him to the airport. All the other vehicles were perfectly parked, gleaming in the garage. I parked my Corvette beside his white Dodge Challenger.
I grabbed my things and headed straight for the mansion. The kitchen was my first priority, so I tossed my purse onto the couch in the lounge and hurried toward it.
Two chefs and four household maids were busy at work when I arrived. The moment they saw me, they bowed their heads like I was royalty, greeting me with meticulous loyalty.
I remembered the past, when Seb and I were just strangers. Back then, I was merely his instrumentalist, playing piano to calm his mind after… indulgences with his bimbos. The household staff would disregard me completely, treating me like a commoner in a kingdom of wealth.
One of them had even called me a sly bitch once when one of Seb's hook-ups splashed wine on my face to vent her frustration after a less-than-pleasant encounter with him. The staff had laughed, mocked, and done nothing to stop it.
But now… everything had changed. Ever since Seb and I became a thing, they feared me. They couldn't even lift their heads to meet my gaze, even when I wasn't speaking to them. They trembled at my presence because I was no longer ordinary—I was bonded to their boss, Sebastian, and we were a couple.
"What are you guys doing?" I asked, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. I knew Seb wouldn't touch whatever they were preparing, and I wasn't interested in it either.
"We're making dinner for ourselves, ma'am," one replied, still avoiding eye contact.
I didn't bother with that. I needed to know one thing. "Is my boyfriend back yet?"
They nodded vigorously. "Yes, ma'am."
"He arrived a few minutes ago," another added. "I think he went upstairs to shower."
I exhaled, relieved. "Okay. Maybe I came too late." I glanced at the kitchen. "Don't leave any of your dinner behind—he's not having it."
They all knew better. "We won't dare, ma'am. We were already done before you arrived. We'll pack it up now."
"It's okay, you can take your time." I wasn't cruel like my boyfriend, after all.
In three minutes, the staff had packed up and left the kitchen. I was finally alone to do my thing. They had offered to help, but I politely declined.
Gently peeling the skin off chicken breasts and thighs with my fingers, my phone buzzed from the lounge. I washed my hands, dried them with a kitchen napkin, and grabbed the device.
It was Grandma Abigail calling on FaceTime.
"Olá, vovó!" I greeted her in Portuguese as I made my way back to the kitchen.
"Minha querida, você está gordinha e mais bonita do que da última vez que visitou o Brasil." My grandma was knitting, her favorite pastime. She always did that so well.
I propped the phone in a spot where she could see me clearly while I resumed my work. "Você está me provocando novamente," I teased.
"Não, querida." She adjusted her glasses, her gray hair clipped neatly up. "Qual é o segredo? Confie em mim, eu quero me beneficiar disso."
I laughed. Usually, only Seb could make me laugh like this—but Grandma had her own magic.
"Vovó, você é tão atrevida. É apenas o clima e o ambiente." I rubbed thyme, garlic, and seasonings under the chicken skin and slid it into the oven, turning on the timer.
"Então, como você está, a casa, a fazenda e todos?" I asked, curious.
"Está tudo bem, minha querida Serena. Nós apenas sentimos sua falta. Isso é tudo." She waited, clearly anticipating my reaction.
I blew her a kiss. "Pegue um beijo e passe o resto para os outros. Eu também sinto falta de vocês."
She was so cheeky when she kissed me back. God, I really missed home now. I wanted to run there, hold them, hug them, and just live with them for a month or two.
"Então, como está indo a reforma?" I asked, pouring red wine vinegar, a tablespoon of warm water, and currants into a small bowl.
"Você sabe que não deveria ter adicionado nossos problemas ao seu estresse, certo?" she said.
I sighed. "Vovó, apenas olhe para isso como minha responsabilidade."
She picked up a pink wool and tied it to the blue one she was knitting. "Quando sua mãe me disse que foi você quem enviou o dinheiro para reformar a casa, fiquei chocada. Era uma quantia enorme, você sabe. E vindo de alguém de vinte e três anos… isso é estranho na família. Você está causando impacto mesmo tão jovem."
I whisked the ingredients in the bowl. "Alguém tem que mudar o status da família, vovó. É muito antigo para o meu gosto." That's exactly why I relocated to Poland in the first place.
"Desculpe perguntar, minha querida, mas você está sempre enviando muito dinheiro para a conta da família… de onde vem tudo isso?"
I had expected the question and was ready. "Estou trabalhando."
"Isso está além de apenas trabalhar, Serena. Não me diga que seu pequeno negócio de moda está rendendo milhões de repente. Sinto que há uma torneira da qual você está pegando."
I shook my head with a smile. "Vovó, me poupe agora e me diga até que ponto a reforma chegou. Mamãe está tão ocupada costurando vestidos que nem responde minhas mensagens, e todo mundo mais está atolado de trabalho na fazenda."
When I last visited my hometown, I realized just how much the house needed fixing. The roof leaked badly whenever it rained. Almost all the doors were half broken—so bad that anyone outside could practically see the next person getting dressed.
The windows had been battered by the wind and replaced with makeshift planks. Every winter, we'd block them with strong plastic sheeting, only removing it once the season passed.
Even the tiles in the foyer and lounge were cracking, and when the floors got wet, earthworms would appear, drawn to the damage. So, you see, I didn't come to Poland to play. I promised myself I would improve the family's well-being if I could. I'm almost the youngest in the family, but I intend to act responsibly, like a senior should.
"Trocamos todas as folhas de cobertura ontem. Lembre-se, está vazando há anos," Grandma said. "Algumas partes das paredes e cercas quebradas também foram reestruturadas ontem. Acho que o único que resta agora são as novas portas, janelas, cortinas, designs internos e externos. Compramos tudo ontem, mas ainda não instalamos. Os trabalhadores ainda estão a postos."
"When are they installing them?" I asked, barely able to contain my excitement. I couldn't wait to see the old mansion completely transformed. Even the smallest details—cutlery, utensils—had to be perfect.
"Eles vão terminar no fim de semana," Grandma replied, counting the days on her fingers. "Hoje é quinta-feira. Então, até sexta, sábado… eles devem terminar no domingo, eu acho."
I tossed some bread with two tablespoons of olive oil onto a rimmed baking sheet. "I sent some money to Grandpa's account yesterday. He said some of the farm machinery and tools were old and blunt."
Grandma shrugged. "Acredito que foi isso que Fernando e os meninos foram comprar no workshop hoje. Eles saíram desde cedo e ainda não voltaram."
"Mmm," I nodded. "Papai foi com eles? (Dad went with them?)"
Grandma chuckled softly. "Liguei para o telefone dele mais cedo, mas ele não atendeu. (I called his phone earlier, but he didn't answer.)"
"You know your father," she continued, frowning. "Ele é um idiota. Acredito que sua mãe não lhe contou. Ambos brigaram na semana passada e ela quebrou a cabeça dele com a estatueta. (He's a jackass. I believe your mom didn't tell you. They both had a fight last week, and she broke his head with the figurine.)"
Oh lord. Not again. "Ai meu mundo. Não de novo. (Oh my world. Not again.)"
Maybe that's why Mom called me last Wednesday, asking me to send some money for fabrics. I knew something was off. I sent it, and she ended up using it for Dad's treatment. Growing up, I've always seen my parents fight—sometimes hurting each other in the process. It's a family conflict, and Dad is usually the one causing it. He pisses Mom off for no reason, and I've always admired that Mom is strong enough to stand her ground. She always wins in the end—whether by landing a punch or smashing something over his head.
"Seu pai é uma dor na bunda de todos. (Your dad is a pain in everyone's ass.)" Grandma continued. "Ele é muito isso e aquilo. Ele é tão preguiçoso. Ele mal trabalha na fazenda. Tudo o que ele faz é sentar na poltrona o dia todo e ler jornais ou assistir TV. Enquanto Fernando e os meninos fazem todo o trabalho duro. (He's just too this and too that. He's so lazy. He barely works on the farm. All he does is sit in his armchair all day reading newspapers or watching TV, while Fernando and the boys handle all the hard labor.)"
"Ele sinceramente merece uma cabeça quebrada da mamãe. (He sincerely deserves a broken head from Mom.)" Absolutely. I wish I could call Mom right now and tell her to give him a few extra knocks if he messed up again.
I groaned dramatically. "I hate to stress you when I have three chefs and eight maids in the house, but please tell me the food is ready. My chances of surviving hunger are about two percent, and I might die in ten seconds."
I turned my head—and froze.
Sebastian was leaning casually against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. Shirtless as usual, the loose fabric of his pajama pants hung low on his hips, revealing the sharp V-line of his abdomen. His dark hair was braided into five bold locs, silk-smooth and perfectly in place.
God, how I wished I could capture this moment and hold it forever. I don't know how fate managed to let me date a Greek god. Among all the women in the world, he chose… me? An ordinary, plain, awkward woman. He's far too handsome for me.
"How long have you been standing there?" I found myself smiling, mesmerized by the sculpted perfection of his physique. His presence alone was melting my soul.
Sometimes, I still wondered why I couldn't trap him with a pregnancy. If nothing else, I wanted to keep this man forever. But the timing of a baby—well, that wasn't in my hands yet.
Sebastian glanced at his empty wrist, as if checking an invisible watch. "Zero hour, one minute, five seconds already."
I laughed. "I'm making Zuni chicken with bread salad. Trust me, it won't take more than five minutes. I'm almost done."
He groaned theatrically. "God, I don't think I can wait. I'd better start saying my last prayers now. I hope there's still room for me in hell, because I'm definitely not making it to heaven."
I burst out laughing. He loves it when I laugh—and it shows. "You're such a comedian," I said between giggles.
"And I love this little tooth gap of yours," he added, smiling. I knew he liked my laughter more than anything.
"How was your day?" I finally asked.
He shrugged. "Exhausting."
"I know," I said knowingly. "When you texted earlier, I was in church. Couldn't reply immediately."
He nodded in understanding. "So, how did your day go?"
"Nice," I said simply, even though it had been hectic. No need to make him feel guilty. "Microwave something from the fridge before dinner's ready," I added. I know my boyfriend well. He's a foodie—and I love that about him.
It almost sounded like I asked him to jump into a fire.
"Apart from this right now," he gestured toward what I was doing, "did you stick anything in the fridge?"
"Nope. Your three chefs did."
"Jesus," he sighed, eyes rolling heavenward. "How did I ever survive all the junk they've been cooking for me over the years? My body has been starving for nutrients… until God gave me this beautiful woman."
I chuckled. "Stop teasing me."
He smiled, that rare, effortless smile I loved. It was the kind of smile you'd see on a Forbes magazine cover—captivating, impossible to ignore.
He walked over and planted a sharp kiss on my cheek. "God, I'll die the day I lose you. And if death doesn't come, I'll call for him myself."
He's so dramatic. Funny. I never knew he hid this side of him, always ready to make me laugh.
"I won't leave you, honey. And you stop scaring me." I poked my flour-dusted finger against his bare, tattooed chest, tracing the fire dragon inked there.
"No, I'm not," he said, strolling toward the fridge. He grabbed an apple and sank his teeth into it, the crunch loud in the quiet kitchen. "See all these packed containers? Those motherfuckers are moving them to the staff quarters tomorrow morning. They can cook for themselves all they want—but not for me. My girlfriend? She's the one feeding me properly."
"So… how are you going to cope when I leave five months from now?" I asked.
He froze, like I'd just told him someone had stolen from him. "To where?"
I bit my lower lip. "Brazil. It's my country's street carnival, and I can't miss it for the world."
He munched on the remains of the apple, then looked at me with that sly grin. "Then, I'll go with you. We'll go together."
What?
My eyes practically popped out. "Seb?"
"What? You're my girlfriend." He wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "Can't I go places with my woman—the only woman I adore this much? I have a penthouse right in the middle of Rio de Janeiro. Trust me, we'll have the entire carnival to ourselves. So… what do you say, baby?"
God, this guy. He doesn't even give me a moment to breathe. "So, you just go around dropping buildings everywhere like planting flowers in a garden? Seriously, Seb, you have money madness."
I jumped when he spanked my butt and then headed to check on the oven. "Thank you, my cure," he muttered.
Wait—what's he doing with the oven now?
My eyes widened as he squatted down and touched the hot pan with his bare hands. "Seb, you'll get burnt without gloves!"
"Nah. My hands are immortal. Indestructible." He seemed delighted by the sight of the roasted chicken. "Goddamn… look at this brown angel. My taste buds are screaming for a bite." He pinched a chunk and popped it into his mouth before looking at me. "Can I have a piece, mamma?"
"You already had some before asking. That's minus half of your meal tonight," I teased.
He pouted in mock sadness, and I laughed. "Baby, that was just a chunk! Nothing serious, ey?"
"Serena querida, você não me apresentou seu namorado," Grandma's voice cut through the kitchen, reminding me of the FaceTime call we had earlier.
Geez—I didn't even remember. I thought she had hung up.
Lord have mercy—tell me she's been watching and listening this whole time. "Vovó, você ainda está na ligação?" I asked. "Grandma, you're still on the call?"
She giggled. "Sim. E seu namorado é tão gostoso e fofo. Qual é o nome dele? Posso dizer oi para ele?"
"Yes. And your boyfriend is so hot and cute. What's his name? Can I say hi to him?"
Geez… now she wants to meet him. "Vovó, acalme-se," I warned. "Grandma, calm down."
Her cheeks flushed, as always, whenever a handsome young man appeared in her line of sight. Grandpa complains about this constantly, but she never stops.
"Vamos, querida. Apenas um oi simples. Eu quero ouvir o sotaque dele. Ele é polonês? Americano? Alemão? Africano? Italiano? Latino? Deus, estou morrendo de vontade de abraçá-lo. Não seja egoísta, Serena. Traga-o!"
"Come on, dearie. Just a simple 'hi.' I want to hear his accent. Is he Polish? American? German? African? Italian? Latino? God, I'm dying to hug him. Don't be selfish, Serena. Bring him over!"
I slapped my forehead, then turned to Seb—only to find him pinching chunks of the roasted chicken again. "Seb?"
He froze, caught red-handed, looking as guilty as a kid stealing cookies. "Baby?"
"What are you doing?" I chuckled. He looked ridiculously cute, mid-mischief.
"Um…" he scratched his head, "I was—um—I was just admiring the chicken… looks nice… I mean, I'm fanning the smoke off—"
I laughed. "Can you come over? My grandma wants to say hi."
He blinked. "Your grandma?"
I nodded. "Yeah. She's on FaceTime."
I think he's a bit nervous about meeting my grandma—or should I say, meeting a family member of mine for the first time?
Sebastian is usually the kind of man you'd never peg as shy or hesitant, but right now, it seems like I asked him to face a firing squad. "I don't know how to speak your language," he muttered.
For a guy fluent in over ten languages, is he really afraid to say "hi" in English? What the—Sigma?
"You mean Portuguese?" I corrected. "It's alright. Just a little wave will do the talking."
Sweat beaded along his forehead. "If you insist…" He walked over and waved at the screen briefly. "Hi."
How I wished I could freeze this moment. He looked so adorable, like a shy schoolboy.
Grandma's chubby cheeks turned as red as tomatoes from blushing so hard. "Olá, lindo. Eu sou Abigail, prazer em conhecê-lo."
"Hi, handsome. I'm Abigail. Nice to meet you."
Sebastian turned to me, frowning slightly. "What did she say?"
Now they were both using me as a human Google translator. "She said her name is Abigail and it's nice meeting you for the first time."
Sebastian faced the screen again, offering a brief smile that faded almost immediately—the kind that clearly said he wasn't interested in meeting anyone but me.
"Oh," he cleared his throat. "Nice meeting you too. I'm Sebastian."
I interpreted for Grandma again, and she asked, "Eu sou do Brasil e você?"
"I'm from Brazil. And you?"
What is this now? Is she flirting? She better divorce Grandpa first and sign up for one of those old-people dating sites.
I translated for Sebastian, and he finally seemed to relax a little—especially after realizing Grandma was cute, bubbly, and… flirty. He actually seemed to enjoy her company.
"I'm partially Polish and partially Nigerian," he said.
When I translated for Grandma, her grey eyes sparkled. She leaned closer to the screen and said, "Ele tem sangue africano e latino, Serena. Deus, onde ele estava antes de eu me casar com seu vovô mal-humorado?"
(He has African and Latin blood, Serena. God, where was he before I married your grumpy grandpa?)
Thank God Sebastian didn't understand Portuguese—he would've been mortified.
Thinking she was talking about him, he asked, "What did she say?"
I froze, then forced out a sarcastic, awkward laugh. "Ha… ha… ha… she said—nice one." I lied.
Sebastian smiled again, completely oblivious, while Grandma seemed positively enchanted. I caught her biting her lower lip and fluttering her lashes. "HA. Espero vê-lo no Brasil algum dia."
(Ha. I hope to see you in Brazil someday.)
Sebastian waved at the screen when I translated. "Yeah, hopefully."
Okay, that was enough for now. I swear she was practically melting on the other side.
I picked up the phone to end the call. "Ok, vovó. Falo com você amanhã. Adeus." (Okay, Grandma. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye bye.) I waved and hung up.
"Whew! That was… weird," I told Sebastian.
"Your grandma is cute," he said.
Is he kidding me? She was literally flirting a minute ago.
"And funny," he added, smiling.
"Yeah, I'd take cute over funny any day," I snorted. "She was flirting with you."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "It's common among older women. My grandma does the same whenever she sees Antoni or any of my friends. One day, my mom even caught her kissing a young celebrity's picture on Google."
I gasped. "You can't be serious."
But he nodded, completely serious. "Older women are fascinated by young adults. I don't see anything wrong with it. It's even fun when you catch them flirting… and it saddens them when they're caught."
Mmm. Yeah… he was right.
"So…" He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly. "You're gonna be my Portuguese tutor, right?"
I laughed. "What an honor. Allow me to be your translator for the meantime."
---
We settled in at the dining room. I was eating like a princess of an island, savoring every bite, while Sebastian attacked his plate as if someone was about to execute him tomorrow.
"Seb?"
"Hmm?" He was too busy devouring to look up.
"Take it easy, okay? Calm down."
I didn't hear everything he said, but I caught one line: "Yeah, I'm trying."
"Here," I said, dishing more onto his plate. "Have some."
He grimaced, mock-dramatic, "God, you're turning me into a glutton. I'll lose all my hard-earned abs."
"No worries," I said, pouring fresh orange juice into two glasses. "I know it'll all be burned off in the gym tomorrow morning."
He furrowed his brows as I handed him a glass. "Why are we always having juice these days when there's a bunch of wine in the house?"
I took a sip from mine. "Too much wine can lead to Alzheimer's in the future, especially the strong stuff. You don't want to end up looking like someone with untreated bipolar in your sixties. So, yes, you can drink and smoke—but not all the time."
He pressed his lips together, clearly holding back a retort. "Okay, mommy." He gulped down his juice, and we continued eating in a comfortable silence—until he brought up a new topic.
"So… have you thought of a name for your brand?"
I lifted my head, fork halfway to my mouth. "My brand?"
"Yeah," he said, twirling his fork absentmindedly. "I had a meeting with some of my officials and business partners in France, Italy, and the USA. We discussed your career specifically."
I froze, dropping my fork onto the plate, listening intently. This sounded… huge.
"A lot of strategizing went into it," he continued. "The French EXCOs suggested a catchy name for the fashion industry. They even started on a website. And some of my Italian contacts volunteered to build a page for your fashion blog. Don't worry—you'll get to meet them once the building is completed. They'll handle recruiting professional fashionists from all over the world after proper interviews. Your job is simple: dot your I's and cross your T's."
Oh my lord… I couldn't even form words.
"All… all this for me?" was all I could manage.
He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah?"
"I love you." I squealed and slid onto his lap.
He smiled softly. "I love you every day, baby. My love for you just keeps renewing every morning."
He deserved a kiss for that. I pressed a longing kiss to his lips, and he savoured it just as much as I did.
"You didn't tell me you traveled because of this," I murmured between lingering kisses.
He tugged gently on my lower lip. "Yeah, I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Thanks, honey." I kissed him again, deeper this time, my fingers tangling in his hair as I settled fully on his lap, giving him my full attention.
I felt his hands gripping my hips, pulling me closer. The desire between us was electric.
"So," he murmured, his voice low against my ear, "would you prefer the brand name my committee picked, or do you already have one in mind?"
I broke the kiss, panting slightly. "What's the name they chose?"
He brushed strands of hair from my face. "Um… I think it's called La Mode D'Elizabeth."
I blinked. "You even used my name?"
His hands circled my hips as a faint frown creased his face. "Come on, baby. It's your empire we're talking about here, not mine."
My eyes sparkled. "Aww, this is so sweet of you." I pressed my lips to his again. "Come, let me thank you properly… dessert in bed."
He grinned widely, and I knew he loved the reaction he was getting. "God, I love the feel of this. It's either you wreck me first… or I'll wreck you entirely."
I squealed, bursting into laughter as he hoisted me over his shoulder and dashed toward the stairs.
"I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll be crying out my name," he teased, giving my butt a playful spank.
"Seb, you're my bad habit," I gasped between laughter. "You're so full of energy!"
My laughter echoed through the mansion, my extra-long hair sweeping across the tiled floor as he sprinted up the stairs.