Chapter 8 - The Queen of the East ParlorBack at the Greenwich estate, the atmosphere was entirely transformed.
The heavy, oppressive silence that had defined the sixteen-room mansion for years was gone, replaced by the sound of small footsteps running down the pale marble hallways and the bright, musical notes of a grand piano being played with two tiny, enthusiastic hands.
Rosa stood in the doorway of the east parlor, holding a cup of coffee while watching Ethan sit on the piano bench with Lily perched on his lap.
He wasn't the cold, calculating billionaire the newspapers loved to hate. He was smiling—a real, unguarded smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes—as he guided Lily’s small fingers across the keys, teaching her how to find middle C.
"Like this, sweet girl," Ethan murmured, his deep voice blending with Lily’s high-pitched giggles. "Gentle. Let it sing."
"It sings!" Lily shouted happily, hammering three keys at once in a chaotic burst of sound that made Ethan laugh out loud.
Rosa felt a warm hand slide around her waist from behind. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was; she knew the exact weight of his touch, the familiar scent of sandalwood and rain.
"You look tired," Ethan said softly, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"I'm not tired," Rosa whispered, leaning back against his chest. "I'm just... still waiting for someone to pinch me. Is this real? Are we actually here?"
Ethan turned her around in his arms, his gray-green eyes searching her face with fierce, consuming devotion. He reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"It’s real," he said. "Every single second of it. You’re not a guest here, Rosa. And you’re certainly not a maid. This is your home. You and Lily own every square inch of it—starting with me."
Rosa smiled, sliding her arms around his neck. "Good. Because I checked the kitchen pantry this morning, and we are completely out of oatmeal."
Ethan laughed, a rich, genuine sound that echoed off the high stone walls and tall windows. "Then we'll have a chef flown in from Paris by noon. Whatever my girls want."
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"Don't spoil her," Rosa warned playfully.
"Too late," Ethan whispered, before leaning down to press a long, tender kiss to her lips.
