The morning at Steel Mansion arrived quietly, wrapped in soft sunlight and the scent of fresh roses drifting through the open curtains.
Ariana woke slowly, still held in Damian's arms.
He hadn't let go of her all night.
His arm was wrapped securely around her waist, his breathing steady against her hair. The powerful, feared Damian Steel slept like this only beside her—unguarded, unarmored, at peace.
She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him.
He stirred anyway.
"You're leaving?" he murmured, eyes still closed.
She smiled softly. "Just going to make you breakfast. Stay."
He tightened his hold for a second before reluctantly loosening his arms. "Fine. But don't disappear."
"I won't," she promised.
---
In the kitchen, the staff moved quietly as Ariana tied her apron. Mrs. Rowan watched from the doorway, hesitant.
"My lady, we can prepare—"
"I want to," Ariana interrupted gently. "For him."
Mrs. Rowan smiled knowingly and stepped back.
Ariana cracked eggs carefully, stirring them with milk and seasoning. She was mid-task when footsteps sounded behind her.
She didn't turn.
"You shouldn't be doing this alone."
She froze.
That voice.
Slow. Deep. Soft only for her.
"Damian," she whispered, turning around.
He stood there in a simple black shirt, sleeves rolled up. No suit. No tie. Just the man.
A servant passed behind him, froze, and almost dropped a tray
Worse rolling up his sleeves.
"What can I help you with?" he asked calmly, walking closer to her.
Ariana blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I want to."
The kitchen went silent.
Damian picked up a knife slowly, inspecting it like a weapon. The staff stared like the world was ending.
He moved beside her. "Tell me what to do."
Ariana tried not to smile too hard. "You can… chop the vegetables."
He nodded once, taking it seriously.
The carrots were uneven. The onions were… dangerous.
The staff held their breath watching their Almighty CEO help his wife in the kitchen all the time.
Damian Steel had defeated corporate sharks, criminals, and threats. But kitchen knives?
That was war.
Ariana watched him quietly, warmth blooming in her chest.
"You're doing fine," she said.
He leaned closer to her, voice low. "I'd walk into fire if you asked me to."
The air shifted.
The staff looked away immediately.
---
They cooked side by side. Quiet laughs. Accidental brush of hands. Soft looks that said more than words.
For the first time, the kitchen felt like a home not a workplace.
When everything was done, Ariana tasted the food and nodded.
"It's good."
Damian tilted his head. "We did it."
Mrs. Rowan later whispered to the butler, still shaken: "I have watched that man rule boardrooms… and today I watched him peel potatoes."
They ate together alone in the dining room.
"Thank you," Damian said quietly.
"For the food?" she teased.
"For making me feel human," he answered honestly.
Her heart softened.