construction began in Aurelia.
Not with a ceremony.
With a shovel.
Christabel's hands in the dirt.
Damien's hands on hers.
---
The morning was cold.
The sky was gray.
The harbor was still.
Christabel stood at the edge of the waterfront. The place where the first hotel would rise. The place where the new Aurelia would begin.
Damien stood beside her.
"You don't have to do this," he said.
"I want to."
"The press is coming."
"Let them."
"They're going to ask questions."
"Let them."
"They're going to write stories."
"Let them."
He touched her face.
"You're ready."
"I've been ready."
---
The press arrived within the hour.
Cameras. Microphones. Journalists.
They gathered around the waterfront, watching, waiting.
Christabel picked up the shovel.
The handle was cold. The blade was sharp.
She drove it into the ground.
The dirt was hard. Resistant. Unwilling.
She pushed harder.
The blade sank deeper.
She lifted the first shovel of dirt.
Turned to the cameras.
"This is the beginning," she said.
"Of what?"
"Of something new."
---
The questions came fast.
"Mrs. Moreau, what does Aurelia mean for your empire?"
"Mr. Moreau, is it true that you're planning to expand internationally?"
"Christabel, over here! Look this way!"
Damien stepped forward.
"One question at a time."
"Mrs. Moreau, why Aurelia?"
She looked at the village.
The crumbling buildings. The empty streets. The dying harbor.
"Because it deserves to live."
---
The press conference lasted an hour.
Christabel answered questions. Shook hands. Posed for photographs.
Her face was calm.
Her eyes were steady.
Inside, she was exhausted.
But she didn't show it.
She never showed it.
---
The drive back to the penthouse was silent.
Lena was with the nanny.
Damien sat beside Christabel.
Her head was on his shoulder.
"You did well," he said.
"I survived."
"Same thing."
"Different intention."
---
The penthouse was dark.
The city was bright.
Christabel walked to the bedroom.
Damien followed.
"You need to rest," he said.
"I need to forget."
"Forget what?"
"Today. The cameras. The questions. The pressure."
He walked to her.
Stood in front of her.
"Then let me help you forget."
---
He undressed her slowly.
Not rushing.
Not savoring.
Methodically.
Like he was unwrapping something precious.
Her jacket. Her blouse. Her skirt.
She stood before him in nothing but lace.
"You're beautiful," he said.
"I'm tired."
"You're beautiful."
---
He led her to the bathroom.
The tub was already filled.
Hot water. Steam. The smell of roses.
"How did you—"
"I planned it."
"You planned a bath?"
"I planned to take care of you."
---
He helped her into the water.
She sank into the heat.
Her muscles relaxed.
Her eyes closed.
He undressed and climbed in behind her.
His chest against her back.
His arms around her waist.
His lips on her neck.
"I love you," he said.
"I know."
"I love taking care of you."
"I know."
"I love watching you fall apart."
---
She turned her head.
Looked at him.
"Then watch."
---
She moved.
Turned in his arms.
Straddled his lap.
The water sloshed over the sides.
His hands found her hips.
Her hands found his shoulders.
"This is what I needed," she said.
"What?"
"You. Us. This."
---
He kissed her.
Soft at first.
Then harder.
His tongue against hers.
Her nails on his back.
The water was hot.
Their bodies were hotter.
"I want you," she said.
"You have me."
"I want all of you."
"You have all of me."
---
She lowered herself onto him.
Slowly.
Deeply.
The water moved around them.
The steam rose.
She rode him in the bath.
Slow at first.
Then faster.
Then slower again.
His hands guided her hips.
Her hands braced on his shoulders.
Their eyes locked.
"You're so beautiful," he said.
"You're so mine."
"Always."
---
She came apart.
Whispering his name.
Holding him close.
He followed.
And when it was over, they lay in the water.
Her head on his chest.
His hand on her back.
"I forgot," she said.
"Forgot what?"
"Today. The cameras. The questions. The pressure."
"Good."
"I love you."
"I know."
"I love you so much it terrifies me."
"Good." He kissed her forehead. "It should."
---
They stayed in the bath until the water went cold.
Then they moved to the bed.
Naked. Tangled. Together.
"Aurelia is just the beginning," Christabel said.
"I know."
"The next city is already planned."
"I know."
"The empire is growing."
"I know."
"Are you scared?"
He looked at her.
"Terrified."
"Good." She kissed his chest. "Me too."
---
The next morning, Christabel woke before Lena.
Not because the baby was crying. Because she wanted to.
She walked to the nursery.
Stood over the crib.
Lena was sleeping. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
"Good morning, little one," Christabel whispered.
Lena didn't stir.
"Your father took care of me last night. He held me in the bath. He made me forget."
She touched Lena's cheek.
"He's very good at that."
---
Damien appeared in the doorway.
"She's awake," he said.
"She's hungry."
"I'll make a bottle."
"She wants to nurse."
He walked to her.
Sat on the floor beside the rocking chair.
"How are you feeling?"
"Restored."
"That's new."
"It is."
"What changed?"
She looked at him.
"You did."
---
Lena finished nursing.
Fell asleep against Christabel's chest.
"She's out," Christabel said.
"She's perfect."
"She's ours."
Damien stood.
Took Lena from her arms.
Laid her in the crib.
Then he walked back to Christabel.
Took her hand.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"The study."
---
He showed her the plans.
Not the rail line.
The next phase of Aurelia.
The waterfront. The hotels. The restaurants. The homes.
"It's going to be beautiful," Christabel said.
"It's going to be ours."
"Ours?"
"Yours."
"Ours."
He smiled.
"Ours."