The week went by quietly — maybe too quietly.
Between meetings, case files, and endless coffee cups, Elara hadn’t seen Lucien for almost five days. She didn’t complain, though. Both of them had their own busy worlds, and neither were the type to demand constant presence.
But this morning felt different.
She didn’t need to check the date — her mind already whispered it: Lucien’s birthday.
Elara got up, brushed her hair back, and mumbled,
“Let’s see if I can make the great mafia boss smile at least once today.”
By evening, she was at the bakery, debating between his favorite chocolate ganache and the new vanilla torte she’d seen him eyeing the other day.
“Both,” she decided. “He deserves both.”
Her arms were full of cake, sweets, and a neatly wrapped box she’d hidden in her coat pocket — when her phone started buzzing.
She placed everything down and picked up the call.
“Ma’am?” It was Lucien’s assistant, his tone slightly shaky.
“Sir hasn’t been answering any calls since morning. I’ve tried reaching him—no response. Should I be concerned?”
Elara froze. Her grip on the phone tightened.
“Concerned?” she repeated. “Where is he now?”
“But no one’s seen him since last night.”
Without another word, she grabbed the cake box and as well as other items and rushed to her car.
---
When she reached the mansion, the gates were open. The entire place was quiet — not the usual silence, but an eerie, heavy kind. Like the calm before a storm.
She stepped inside, calling out softly,
“Lucien?”
No answer. Only the faint ticking of a clock echoed through the hall.
Her heartbeat grew louder as she walked toward his study, the smell of his cologne faint in the air. Then, suddenly—
“Came quite quick, Elarie?”
His voice came from behind her.
Elara nearly dropped the cake box, turning sharply.
Lucien stood at the doorway, arms crossed, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Oh my goodness,” she exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest. “You plan to scare me to death with some stupid excuses?”
He tilted his head, his tone calm, deep, and annoyingly smug.
“Still you came, darling.”
Elara rolled her eyes but her lips curved slightly.
“Because your assistant called me, saying you weren’t responding!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“And you thought I was dying?”
“Obviously, yes! Who just disappears on their own birthday?”
Lucien walked closer, his steps slow and deliberate.
“I didn’t disappear, Elarie. I just wanted to see if you’d come running.”
Elara blinked at him, half irritated, half relieved.
“You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
“Maybe. But you still came running to me.”
She huffed, “Because I was worried, idiot.”
He chuckled softly — that deep, rich sound she hadn’t realized she missed until now.
“Then I guess this is the best birthday gift I could’ve asked for.”
“Oh, shut up and take your cake before I throw it at you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Lucien leaned in, lowering his voice,
“Fine. But before that thank you, Elarie. For coming.”
She looked away, muttering under her breath,
“You’re lucky I love you enough not to punch you right now.”
Elara walked past him with an exasperated sigh, heading straight for the dining room.
“Move, birthday boy. If you scare me again, I’m suing you for emotional damage.”
Lucien followed her with a quiet chuckle, his voice low and amused.
“You wouldn’t win. The judge would probably take my side.”
“I’m a lawyer. I’d win even if I was guilty.”
“That’s my wife.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smirk as she set the cake box on the table.
The room filled with the faint scent of cocoa and frosting. Lucien leaned on the doorframe, watching her as she carefully opened the lid and took out the cake.
“Chocolate ganache,” he said softly. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. I have a brain, unlike some people who try to vanish on their birthdays.”
He stepped closer until his presence loomed behind her.
“It’s not vanishing, Elarie. It’s testing loyalty.”
“Testing my patience, you mean.”
Lucien chuckled again, brushing a strand of her hair away from her neck.
“I’ll take both.”
She turned to face him, arching an eyebrow.
“I swear, you’re insufferable sometimes.”
“And yet,” he murmured, “you still baked me a cake.”
“Bought,” she corrected quickly.
“Still counts.”
He picked up the cake knife and cut a small piece, offering it to her first.
She frowned.
“It’s your birthday. You eat first.”
“And it’s my rule — you eat first.”
With a sigh, she took a bite.
“Fine. Happy now?”
Lucien smiled faintly.
“Very.”
After she finished chewing, he took his own bite, humming in approval.
“Perfect. Sweet, rich, and a little sharp — like someone I know.”
“Oh please,” she said, setting the knife down. “You sound like a poet with bad taste.”
Lucien only smirked, wiping a bit of frosting from her lip with his thumb — not breaking eye contact for a second.
“Maybe I just have excellent taste in lawyers.”
She gave him a warning look, but her lips twitched, betraying a small smile.
He stepped closer again, his tone turning teasingly low.
“So, what’s in the box you’ve been hiding in your coat pocket, hmm?”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“How do you— you checked my pocket?!”
“No,” he said, tilting his head. “But I noticed you protecting it more than the cake.”
She sighed in defeat, pulling out the small gift box.
“Fine. Here. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
He took it, unwrapping the ribbon carefully. Inside was a silver wristwatch — classic, sleek, with his initials engraved on the back.
Lucien was silent for a moment. Then, quietly,
“You remembered my old one broke.”
“You’re impossible to shop for, you know,” she muttered, looking away. “So just take it.”
"How thoughtful! it is to say that when giving gifts." he said his gaze still focused on her.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t blow up your office on your birthday.”
He smiled again, pulling her closer, his voice brushing against her ear.
“You know… for someone who claims to be annoyed, you love me far too much.”
“Debatable,” she murmured.
“Prove it’s not true then.”
“Can’t. You’d still find a way to win the argument.”
Lucien laughed softly, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“Then I’ll take that as a confession.”
“Happy birthday, idiot,” she muttered, resting her head briefly against his chest.
“Best one yet,” he replied, brushing a kiss to her forehead. “Because you came running.”
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