LOGIN104. AsenaIt's evening and the house feels quiet.. Not just feels, it's quiet. Somewhere downstairs a single lamp has been left on for Bernard’s final rounds. Upstairs, the nursery door stands slightly open. Our bedroom is lit only by the low warm glow of the bedside lamp. The curtains are drawn against the night. Everything feels hushed and safe.I stand at the edge of the bed while Caspian and Zavian move around me. Their hands are already on me, unbuttoning, easing fabric away, lingering on the places where my body has changed. My belly is rounded now, full with the twins.Every so often one of them kicks. It's either a soft kick or a stronger roll that still steals my breath. Caspian’s palm settles over the curve as the last of my dress falls away. Zavian’s fingers trace the stretch of skin at my hip with careful reverence.“You’re so beautiful like this,” Caspian murmurs.Zavian kisses the side of my neck. “So beautiful.”They guide me onto the bed with the same steady care th
103. AsenaThe house feels different now.Light moves through it more freely. Morning sun spills across the floors of the sunroom where I work. Afternoon gold settles on the stairs and the long hallway that leads to the nursery. Even the evenings seem softer, as if the walls themselves have learned how to hold peace. I notice it in small moments; the way the air feels warmer, the way silence no longer carries tension. The danger that once lived in every corner is gone. What remains is life.I spend most mornings at my worktable.The jewelry designs have grown with me. What began as quiet pieces made in stolen hours has become something larger. Orders arrive from places I once only saw on maps, boutiques in Paris, a small gallery in Tokyo, private clients in New York who request custom work months in advance. I still sketch by hand first. The feel of pencil on paper steadies me. Then I move to the metal and stone, shaping each piece with the same careful attention I once used just to s
Asena povWhen we start setting the nursery room, we kickstart with an empty room and far too many opinions.We chose it because it is the bedroom closest to ours.It also comes with wide windows that catch the morning sun and overlook the quieter side of the garden. For the first few days, none of us does much more than stand in the doorway and stare.Caspian measures the room, then he measures it again.“Did you already measure that?” I ask when he attempts to do it a third time. “Yes.” he replies, too serious. “Then why are you doing it again?” I probe. Caspian glances at me as though the answer should be obvious. “To make sure.”Behind him, Zavian is writing something in his notebook.I lean against the doorframe. “And what are you writing?” I ask, trying not to sound as amused as I feel. “Things we need.” he answers. “How many things?” I continue and that's when he looks down at the page.“A lot of stuff, Asena.” He answers and I laugh.There is something strangely comfortin
101. AsenaThe days after I tell them about the baby unfold like something out of a dream I never dared to have.Caspian and Zavian become almost impossible to separate from me. It is not the hovering fear of the first weeks after the hospital. This is different. It was warmer, steadier, filled with a quiet and fierce joy that shows in every small action. They wake when I wake. They notice the moment my stomach turns in the morning and have crackers and ginger tea ready before I can ask. They adjust the temperature in every room I enter. They take the stairs beside me as if the gentle slope might suddenly become dangerous.I have never been pampered like this in my life.On the third morning Caspian carries a tray into the sunroom where I am sketching. Fresh fruit cut into neat pieces, toast, the mild tea that sits easiest on my stomach. He sets it down, presses a kiss to the top of my head, and only then takes the seat across from me.“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, though the w
100. AsenaIt begins with the smell of coffee.I wake before the twins and slip out of bed carefully, not wanting to disturb them. The house is still quiet. In the kitchen I reach for the kettle, but the moment the rich scent of the grounds hits the air my stomach turns hard and fast. I barely make it to the sink before the nausea rises.I grip the counter and breathe through it, confused. The feeling passes after a minute or two, leaving me shaky and slightly cold. I rinse my mouth and stand still, one hand resting against my midsection without quite meaning to.By the third morning it is no longer something I can dismiss as a strange stomach or leftover stress. The nausea arrives almost as soon as I sit up. Certain smells, coffee, eggs and even the soap in the shower, send my stomach into sharp rebellion. I start keeping plain crackers on the nightstand and eating them slowly before I try to stand.On the fifth day I drive to a nearby pharmacy while the twins are on a short call in
99. AsenaThe mansion is quiet in a way that feels different now.Not the careful quiet of the first weeks home, when every sound seemed to carry the possibility of threat. This quiet is simply peaceful. The kind that settles over a house when no one is waiting for the next bad thing to arrive. Evening light moves slowly across the floors. Somewhere in the kitchen Maria finishes the last of the dishes. Bernard locks the outer doors with the same steady routine he has always kept, but tonight even that ordinary act feels lighter.I sit between Caspian and Zavian on the large couch in the living room, my legs draped across their laps. A low fire burns in the hearth even though the night is mild. No one speaks much. We do not need to. Caspian’s hand rests on my ankle, thumb moving in an absent, soothing pattern. Zavian plays idly with the ends of my hair. The safety of it sinks into me more deeply than it ever has before.The danger is over.I test the thought and find that it holds. All
AsenaCaspian's mouth descends, and the first stroke of his tongue against my oversensitive flesh makes me jolt."Wait…" I gasp, trying to close my legs, but his hands grip my thighs, holding them open."Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs against my skin. "I'm just going to taste you. That's all.""Tha
Asena“ I want this.” I declare. Something flickers in Caspian's eyes. It's a look that should terrify me.Instead, it sets me on fire.His hand tightens on my waist and his fingers dig in possessively as he pulls me flush against him. I feel every inch of hardness of his body through our clothes
AsenaThe question slams into me, stealing my breath away. Compensation? What the actual fuck? "I... I didn't mean to walk in on you," I manage, my voice fracturing.“I was being followed so I…” I fumble with words. I just needed…""Sure you were." Caspian lifts his hand, hid fingers threading th
AsenaI step out of the taxi and look at the huge building before me. My phone chimes with a new message. Suite 412. Can't wait to see you in the dress, babe.I press my phone against my chest, trying to calm the wild flutter in my heart.In three days, I’ll wed the love of my life.Matteo Russo.







