He nuzzled into my neck, the intimate gesture making my heartrace. His unique masculine scent surrounded me, mixed with hints of cologne, both comforting and intoxicating.
"But Sofia—"
"Sofia's safe," his voice grew gentler. "Mark will make sure she gets the best breakfast. You need rest. Yesterday was traumatic enough."
His hand stroked my hair so tenderly, so soothingly. In his arms, last night's fear seemed to fade away. This was his manor, his territory. Under his protection, we were safe.
I settled back into his embrace, feeling his steady breathing and heartbeat. Soon, I drifted off again.
When I woke the second time, he was gone, but the sheets still held his warmth. A note lay on the nightstand in his familiar handwriting.
"Come down for breakfast when you wake up. Yours, Alexander."
The note made me smile. Even his notes radiated warmth and care.
I quickly washed up and changed, then descended the elegant spiral staircase. Before I reached the dining room, I heard Sofia's bell-like laughter.
The scene that greeted me at the dining room doorway melted my heart instantly.
Alexander sat beside Sofia, patiently teaching her proper table manners. He elegantly cut his scrambled eggs with knife and fork while gently correcting how she held her fork.
"No, sweetheart, like this," he said softly. "Thumb and forefinger, light grip. Don't squeeze too tight."
Sofia studied intently, her little face serious with concentration. Her small hands tried to mimic Alexander's movements—clumsy but determined.
"Like this, Alex?" she asked.
"Perfect," Alexander smiled warmly. "You're a quick learner. In Europe, elegant table manners are essential to noble education."
"Am I a noble lady?" Sofia asked curiously.
"You're my little princess," Alexander stroked her hair. "Even more special than royalty."
Sunlight streamed through the massive windows, bathing thistender father-daughter scene in golden light. Watching this, I felt a satisfaction I'd never experienced before.
This was the family picture I'd always dreamed of—a patient father teaching his daughter, the daughter learning eagerly. This peaceful, beautiful daily life was something I hadn't experienced in five years.
I quietly pulled out my phone to capture this precious moment. The shutter sound echoed clearly in the quiet dining room.
Alexander looked up at the sound. I thought he'd be annoyed—I hadn't asked permission to take photos. But he didn't stop me. Instead, he smiled warmly at the camera.
That smile was so warm, so genuine, my heart skipped a beat. In that moment, I didn't see the powerful figure from the New York underworld—I saw a father who loved his daughter, a man who cared about me.
"Good morning," he said. "Sleep well?"
"Very well," I walked to the table. "Thank you for letting me sleep in."
"Mommy!" Sofia said excitedly. "Alex taught me to use a fork! Look, I learned!"
She proudly demonstrated her new skill. Still not quite graceful, but definitely getting there.
"You did great, baby," I kissed her forehead. "You've always been so smart."
After breakfast, Sofia was drawn to butterflies in the garden and skipped outside. As if I'd been given permission, I pulled my professional camera from my bag.
This manor was too beautiful—every corner deserved to be captured. I photographed Sofia chasing butterflies in the garden, her dress floating in the sunlight, her laughter crystal clear. I captured Mark's kind smile as he trimmed roses with elegant, practiced movements. I shot the fountain in sunlight, water droplets refracting rainbow light.
Everything felt dreamlike, almost too beautiful to be real.
