Chapter 427: The Apron

GRAYSON gently unclasped the strap of Mailah’s emerald high heel, slipping the shoe off her foot and resting her small foot on his knee. He began to rub her soft arch with his large, warm thumb.

"Grayson!" Mailah whispered, her cheeks turning bright red as several high-society ladies gasped in surprise nearby. "People are looking at us!"

"Let them look," Grayson declared proudly, looking up at her with big, devoted dark eyes. "Let the entire world see how a dark lord serves his queen. Is the pressure acceptable, my love?"

Mailah let out a soft, helpless laugh, leaning back against the comfortable sofa cushions. "The pressure is perfect, you ridiculous demon."

"Good," Grayson smiled, his sharp, aristocratic features lighting up with a swoon-worthy grin that could melt a glacier.

By midnight, the grand event was over, and the Ashford estate was peaceful once again.

Count Ulrich had fled the hotel in utter embarrassment, his pride completely crushed without Grayson even throwing a single spell. Chloe had safely retired to her bedroom upstairs, exhausted from wearing a formal dress and already back in her fuzzy cat slippers, happily eating a plate of cookies Mrs. Baker had left for her.

In the quiet master bedroom, a warm fire crackled softly in the stone fireplace, casting a golden glow across the dark wood furniture.

Mailah had changed out of her emerald dress into a soft white silk nightgown. She sat on the edge of the large plush bed, unpinning her dark hair and letting it fall over her shoulders.

Grayson walked over from his dressing room, wearing a long, loose black silk robe. He sat down on the mattress right behind her, taking the silver hairpins from her hands one by one and setting them gently on the nightstand.

His long, warm fingers moved softly through her hair, brushing it out with slow, tender care.

"Thank you for standing up for me tonight," Mailah said softly, turning her head slightly to look into his eyes.

Grayson didn’t answer right away. He reached out, his warm thumbs gently tracing the soft line of her cheekbones. His dark eyes were fixed on her face with a quiet, overwhelming intensity that made her heart skip a beat.

"I do not care about that idiot," Grayson murmured, his deep voice low and thick with genuine emotion. "I do not care about dark nobles, ancient debts, or social events."

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against hers. His warm breath fanned across her lips as his large hands moved down to wrap securely around her waist.

"When that fool spoke down to you," Grayson rasped out softly, "my entire soul burned with rage. I realized once again that my power, my status, and my life mean absolutely nothing unless they are used to protect your smile."

Mailah felt her heart swell with sweet, breathless love. She raised her arms, wrapping them around his broad neck and running her fingers through his thick dark hair.

"You don’t need to prove anything to me, Grayson," Mailah whispered softly against his lips. "I already know how much you love me."

Grayson let out a low, rough hum of devotion, leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, breathtaking kiss.

The kiss was slow, deeply romantic, and full of an ancient passion that made the quiet night feel warm and bright. Grayson held her tightly against his broad chest, kissing her as if she were the most precious treasure in the universe.

When he finally pulled back for air, his sharp jaw was soft, and his dark eyes were shining with pure, undivided love.

He swept his strong arms under her knees, lifting her effortlessly, and laid her gently against the soft white pillows. He pulled the thick, warm blankets over both of them, sliding into bed beside her and pulling her small body flush against his chest.

"Sleep well, my love," Grayson whispered into her hair, his heart beating a steady, peaceful rhythm right against hers. "I am here."

Mailah smiled brightly in the dim firelight, cuddling close into his warmth as she closed her eyes, feeling completely safe and cherished in the arms of her dark lord.

The next morning, sunbeams flooded the grand kitchen of the Ashford estate.

Grayson stood in front of the stainless steel stove, wearing a dark silk shirt, tailored trousers, and a bright yellow kitchen apron with tiny ducklings printed on it—a joke gift Mailah had bought him at a human market.

He held a silver spatula with extreme precision, scowling at a pan of frying eggs as if they were treacherous dark enemies plotting against his empire.

"If the edges turn brown, the texture is ruined," Grayson grumbled to himself, his eyebrows knit together in deadly focus.

Mailah walked into the kitchen wearing a cozy oversized sweater. She stopped in her tracks, catching sight of the terrifying eldest Lord of Ashford standing over a frying pan in a duckling apron. A soft laugh bubbled up from her chest.

"Good morning, chef," Mailah teased gently, walking over to wrap her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his back.

Grayson’s tense shoulders immediately relaxed. He set the spatula down, turning in her arms to lift her easily onto the marble counter beside the stove.

"Good morning, my love," Grayson said, his deep voice rich with affection. He leaned down and pressed a long, sweet kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers. "I am preparing a morning feast. Though these eggs are testing my patience."

"You look very handsome in your ducklings," Mailah giggled, smoothing down his apron.

"This apron is an ancient symbol of my total devotion to you," Grayson declared with absolute, dramatic dignity. "I wear it proudly."

"He looks ridiculous," a cold voice stated from the kitchen doorway.

Grayson froze. His eyes narrowed into slits as he looked over Mailah’s shoulder.

Standing in the doorway was his younger brother, Mason. Mason was tall, very handsome and wore a long black wool coat that brushed his ankles, despite being indoors. He had a perpetually exhausted, stoic expression on his face, looking like a gloomy Grim Reaper who had lost his coffee.

"Mason," Grayson said flatly, his voice dropping into pure irritation. "Why are you here?"

Mason walked in slowly, pulling out a stool at the kitchen island and sitting down with a long, weary sigh. "I came to check on Chloe. And to see if you had murdered her yet."

"I am considering it," Grayson replied coldly, pulling Mailah closer to his side. "She complained about her shoes for six straight hours yesterday."

"She ruined my grand piano with tomato soup," Mason stated deadpan, staring at Grayson’s apron. "And yet, here you are, wearing ducks and frying eggs. The great demon prince has truly fallen."

"I have not fallen," Grayson snapped, pointing a wooden spoon at his brother. "I am a loving husband. Something a bitter, lonely demon like you could never understand. Now remove your coat inside my house. You look like a depressed shadow."

"My coat is high fashion," Mason argued flatly. "Your apron has ducklings."

"My apron was selected by my queen!" Grayson declared passionately, slamming a hand against his chest. "Therefore, it is superior to every garment in your wardrobe!"

Mailah covered her face with her hands, laughing softly at the two ancient, powerful beings bickering like ten-year-old boys over kitchen wear.

Before Mason could reply, the kitchen door burst open. Chloe stumbled inside, dragging her feet, wearing oversized grey sweatpants and her fluffy cat slippers. Her hair was a messy nest on top of her head.

"Why is everyone shouting?!" Chloe whined, rubbing her eyes. "It’s too early for dark magic and duck aprons!"

She stopped, blinking at Mason. "Oh great. The piano guy is here."

"I want five hundred gold coins for the piano repair, Chloe," Mason said without looking at her.

"Charge it to my father," Chloe said, hopping onto a stool and grabbing an apple from a fruit bowl. "He’s rich and evil. Make him pay for everything."

Grayson turned back to his pan, sliding the eggs onto a china plate with grand flourish. He ignored his brother and cousin entirely, turning all his attention back to Mailah. He picked up a small silver fork, carefully cutting a piece of egg, and held it up to Mailah’s lips.

Mailah blushed slightly, looking at Mason and Chloe who were both watching. But seeing the hopeful, dramatic look on her husband’s face, she opened her mouth and took the bite.

"Is it perfection?" Grayson asked urgently, leaning closer. "Did I conquer the egg?"

"It is delicious, Grayson," Mailah smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You are the best cook in the world."

Grayson’s face lit up with a brilliant, swoon-worthy smile that instantly brightened the entire room. He looked as if he had just been crowned king of the universe. He leaned down and kissed her cheek repeatedly. "For you, I would conquer every kitchen on Earth."

Mason let out a quiet, painful groan, resting his forehead against the marble counter. "I am leaving. The sweetness in this room is giving me a headache."

"Please leave," Grayson said cheerfully, not taking his eyes off Mailah. "Take the child with you."

"Hey!" Chloe yelled, tossing an apple core into the trash. "I’m staying here! Mrs. Baker promised me blueberry pancakes!"