Christabel visited Aurelia for the first time.
The village was dying.
But she could see what it could become.
And she was willing to fight for it.
But first, she needed to remember how to feel alive.
---
The morning began before dawn.
Christabel woke to the smell of something sweet.
Not coffee. Not tea.
Strawberries.
She opened her eyes.
Damien was sitting on the edge of the bed.
A tray in his hands.
Strawberries. Cream. Champagne.
"What is this?"
"A celebration."
"Of what?"
"Of you. Of us. Of the city we're going to build."
She sat up.
The sheet fell away from her body.
"You're ridiculous."
"I'm in love."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
He set the tray on the bed.
Picked up a strawberry.
Held it to her lips.
"Eat."
"Feed me?"
"I want to taste you."
She bit into the strawberry.
Juice ran down her chin.
He caught it with his thumb.
Licked it clean.
"Sweet."
"You're sweet."
"I'm dangerous."
"I know."
---
He fed her another strawberry.
Then another.
Then another.
Each bite was slower than the last.
Each touch lingered longer.
Her lips. His fingers. The taste of fruit and desire.
"You're trying to seduce me," she said.
"Is it working?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
She pulled him closer.
"Yes."
---
He kissed her.
Tasting the strawberries on her tongue.
Sweet. Tart. Addictive.
She pulled his shirt over his head.
Her hands on his chest.
His hands on her hips.
"The village," she said.
"Can wait."
"The investors—"
"Can wait."
"The world—"
"Can burn."
---
He laid her back on the bed.
The tray slid to the floor.
Strawberries scattered across the sheets.
She laughed.
"I'm going to find strawberries in this bed for weeks."
"Good."
"Every time I find one, I'll think of you."
"Every time you think of me, I want you to remember this."
---
He kissed her neck.
Her collarbone.
The space between her breasts.
She arched beneath him.
"Damien."
"I'm here."
"I need—"
"I know."
---
He reached for a strawberry.
Placed it on her stomach.
The cold fruit against her warm skin.
She gasped.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm tasting you."
He lowered his mouth.
Bit into the strawberry.
Juice mixed with her skin.
His tongue followed.
---
She was shaking.
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please touch me."
He touched her.
His fingers found her center.
She was wet. Ready. Wanting.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
"Then show me."
---
He entered her.
Slowly.
Deeply.
The strawberry still between them.
Juice on her skin.
His mouth on hers.
She wrapped her legs around his waist.
Pulled him closer.
"This is what I needed," she whispered.
"What?"
"You. Us. This."
---
He moved inside her.
Not fast. Not slow.
Somewhere in between.
The way she loved.
She met every thrust.
Held him tight.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"I love you so much it hurts."
"I know."
"Don't stop."
"I won't."
---
She came apart beneath him.
Whispering his name.
Holding him close.
He followed.
And when it was over, they lay tangled together.
Strawberries crushed between them.
Juice on their skin.
"Now I really need a shower," she said.
"Together?"
"Together."
---
They showered together.
Slowly.
Washing each other's bodies.
Strawberry juice and sweat and love.
"You're staring," she said.
"I'm admiring."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
She kissed him.
"I love you."
"I know."
"I love you in ways I didn't know I was capable of."
He touched her face.
"I know. Because I love you the same way."
---
The drive to Aurelia took three hours.
Christabel watched the landscape change.
City to suburbs. Suburbs to countryside. Countryside to coast.
The village appeared on the horizon.
Small. Dying. Forgotten.
"This is it," she said.
"This is it."
"It's sad."
"It's potential."
She looked at him.
"You see potential everywhere."
"I see it in you."
---
They walked through the streets together.
Hand in hand.
The buildings were crumbling. The shops were closed. The harbor was empty.
But Christabel saw what it could become.
Hotels on the waterfront. Restaurants on the pier. Homes on the hills.
"This is Verona, twenty years ago," she said.
"Before we found it."
"Before we built it."
"We can do the same here."
She turned to face him.
"Yes, we can."
---
That afternoon, they met with the village council.
Old men. Old women. People who had been born here and planned to die here.
"You want to build," the mayor said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because this place deserves to live."
"And what do you get out of it?"
Christabel smiled.
"A home."
---
The negotiations took hours.
Not because the council was difficult. Because they were afraid.
Afraid of change. Afraid of outsiders. Afraid of losing what little they had left.
"I understand," Christabel said. "I was afraid too. Once."
"What changed?"
"I met someone who showed me that fear wasn't a weakness. It was a reason to fight."
---
The council agreed.
Not unanimously. Not easily.
But they agreed.
Christabel walked out of the town hall.
The sun was setting.
The harbor was golden.
"We did it," she said.
"We started."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
The drive back to the city was quiet.
Christabel was tired.
But happy.
Damien held her hand.
"You did well today."
"We did well."
"You led."
"We led."
He kissed her hand.
"I'm proud of you."
"I'm proud of us."
---
They arrived home after midnight.
Lena was asleep.
The penthouse was dark.
Christabel walked to the nursery.
Stood over the crib.
Lena was sleeping. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"Good night, little one," Christabel whispered.
Lena didn't stir.
"Your father and I bought a village today. Well, not bought. Saved."
She touched Lena's cheek.
"It's going to be beautiful. Just like Verona. Just like you."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's asleep," he said.
"She's perfect."
"She's ours."
He walked to her.
Took her hand.
"Come to bed."
"I'm not tired."
"Then come watch the stars."
---
They sat on the balcony.
The city was dark. The stars were bright.
Christabel leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Today was a good day."
"It was."
"We should have more days like this."
"We will."
"What's next?"
He looked at her.
"Tomorrow, we plan. The day after, we build. The day after that, we conquer."
"Conquer what?"
"The world."
She smiled.
"I like that plan."