Chapter 450: The Trip

Within five minutes, the final wooden board clicked into place.

Grayson stood up smoothly, brushing off his knees. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and stared down at the finished shelf with a look of supreme victory, as if he had just conquered a small kingdom.

“There,” Grayson said calmly, his deep voice rich with pride. “A flawless structure. Sturdy, balanced, and complete. Modern flat-pack construction poses no challenge to a mind of my experience.”

Mailah leaned forward, blinking at the shelf. Then she tilted her head to the left. Then to the right.

“Um… Grayson?” Mailah asked softly.

“Yes, my love?” he replied, not taking his eyes off his masterpiece. “Are you admiring the structural symmetry?”

“The bottom shelf is upside down,” Mailah said gently, pointing a finger at the wood. “The smooth polished side is facing the floor, and the rough, unfinished brown board is facing up. Also, the warning sticker that says THIS SIDE DOWN is right on top.”

Chloe, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, leaned over to look. Her eyes went wide. She let out a snort, followed by a loud, uncontrollable burst of laughter that echoed through the sunroom.

“Oh my whole life!” Chloe gasped, holding her stomach as she leaned against the doorframe. “Look at it! The great shadow prince, master of darkness, builder of ancient castles… put the bottom board upside down! And the bright yellow sticker is staring right at you!”

Grayson didn’t move a muscle. His jaw tightened slightly. He stared down at the big yellow sticker with deep, cold hatred.

“It is an intentional choice,” Grayson stated flatly, his voice utterly devoid of panic.

“An intentional choice?” Chloe wheezed, wiping a tear from her eye. “Grayson, the sticker literally has an arrow pointing down!”

“The manufacturer’s arrow is a recommendation, not a law,” Grayson replied coolly, maintaining absolute, terrifying dignity. “The unfinished wood texture creates a rustic look. It adds character to the piece.”

“Grayson, sweetie,” Mailah said, biting her bottom lip to hide her own smile as she stood up next to him. “If I put my ceramic pots on the unfinished wood, the water will soak straight into the raw board and ruin it.”

Grayson turned his head slowly to look down at Mailah. The sharp, proud look on his face instantly melted into a slightly flustered, quiet silence. His blue eyes flicked from her sweet smile down to the offending sticker, then back to her face.

“…The diagram was poorly printed,” Grayson muttered low in his throat, his dark eyebrows pulling together in a tiny, sulky frown that made Mailah’s heart swell with affection.

“It’s okay,” Mailah murmured, reaching out to stroke his arm gently. “You built it in five minutes. That’s still a record.”

Chloe pulled out her phone, aiming the camera at him. “Hold on, stay right there! I need a picture of Lord Grayson standing next to his upside-down plant stand with his little metal wrench.”

“If you press that button, Chloe,” Grayson said in a low, dangerous hum, “I will ensure your phone spends the next week at the bottom of the estate’s fish pond.”

“You wouldn’t!” Chloe gasped, instantly dropping the phone behind her back.

“Try me,” Grayson noted smoothly.

Without another word, Grayson knelt back down on the stone floor. Moving with fast, mechanical precision, he unbolted the bottom shelf in four seconds flat, flipped the wooden board over so the smooth side faced up, and tightened the screws back in with ridiculous force.

He stood up once more, dusting his hands off with total composure, as if the last two minutes had never happened.

“Now it is complete,” Grayson announced flatly, looking down at Mailah. “And it is perfect.”

Mailah couldn’t help herself. She stepped into his space, wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, and buried her face into his soft wool sweater. “You are cute when you’re wrong,” she whispered teasingly.

Grayson’s arms wrapped securely around her, pulling her close against his warm chest. He leaned down, burying his face into the crook of her neck, letting out a long, quiet sigh.

“I was not wrong,” he murmured raspy near her ear, his lips brushing against her warm skin, making her shiver with sweet delight. “I was merely testing the flexibility of the materials.”

“Sure you were, cousin,” Chloe called out, walking past them into the hallway. “Keep telling yourself that while you carry her plants over!”

By mid-afternoon, Mailah’s lavender plants and small green pots were neatly arranged on the new wooden shelf near the sunroom window. The room smelled sweetly of fresh soil, purple blooms, and warm sunlight.

Grayson stood behind Mailah as she wiped down the leaves of a small potted fern. His broad chest was pressed lightly against her back, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist to keep her warm against the cool draft coming from the window glass.

“We need a few more things for dinner,” Mailah said, resting her head back against his shoulder. “And some fresh soil for the potted lavender.”

“I will send Marcus to the market,” Grayson said simply, his thumb gently stroking her hip through her cardigan.

“No,” Mailah turned in his arms, smiling up at his sharp, handsome face. “I want to go with you. Just a normal grocery trip. Like regular people.”

Grayson stared at her for a moment. To an ancient demon who had spent centuries having servants bring him fine wine, roasted meats, and silk robes, the idea of walking down public store aisles to buy plastic bags of carrots sounded absurd.

“A regular grocery trip,” Grayson repeated carefully, as if processing a strange foreign concept.

“Yes,” Mailah said, tapping his cheek gently. “It will be fun.”

From the nearby archway, Chloe stuck her head into the room, her eyes wide with wicked amusement. “Did someone say grocery store? Oh, I am definitely coming. I want to see Grayson navigate a shopping cart.”

Grayson gave his cousin a cold, unbothered look over Mailah’s shoulder. “I know how to operate a cart, Chloe. It is four wheels and a wire basket. It does not require a degree in military tactics.”

“We’ll see about that,” Chloe giggled.

Twenty minutes later, the three of them stepped through the automatic glass doors of the village’s main supermarket.

The store was busy with weekend shoppers, neon lights, and squeaky cart wheels. The air smelled of fresh bread, roasted chicken, and floor cleaner.

Grayson walked in wearing his long charcoal overcoat over a dark fitted sweater. He looked like a royalty who had accidentally taken a wrong turn into a suburban mall. He walked over to the line of metal shopping carts, pulled one out with smooth, effortless power, and gripped the handle with both hands.

He stood tall, holding the cart with absolute, rigid posture, his sharp blue eyes sweeping across the vegetable section like a king inspecting his army’s supply train.

“Is the grip comfortable, my love?” Grayson asked Mailah in a quiet, serious tone as she walked beside him.

“It’s fine, Grayson,” Mailah whispered, trying hard not to laugh. “You can loosen your shoulders. It’s just a grocery cart, not a chariot.”

“It has a broken wheel,” Grayson noted coolly, his ears picking up a tiny squeak from the front left caster. “It wobbles two degrees to the right. It is inefficient.”

“Just push it, Lord Shadow,” Chloe snorted, walking ahead of them and tossing a massive bag of cheddar potato chips into the basket.

Grayson immediately picked up the bag of chips between two fingers, looking at it with deep disgust. “This contains no actual food value. It is salt and artificial yellow dust.”

“It’s delicious, you ancient fun-sponge,” Chloe argued, grabbing the bag back and hugging it to her chest. “Mailah likes them too!”

Grayson’s gaze instantly shifted to Mailah. “Do you want the salt dust, my love?”

“They are pretty good…” Mailah admitted sheepishly.

Grayson didn’t hesitate. He took the bag of chips from Chloe’s hands and set it neatly back into the cart. “Then we shall buy three bags,” he declared flatly.

“Hey! You just criticized the yellow dust!” Chloe yelled.

“Mailah likes it,” Grayson replied, as if that simple sentence explained all the mysteries of the universe. “Therefore, the dust has value.”

Mailah shook her head, her face flushing with sweet warmth as she tucked her arm through Grayson’s.

They walked down the produce aisle. Grayson inspected every single item with intense, terrifying focus. He picked up an apple, holding it up to the bright fluorescent light, turning it slowly in his broad hand.

“In the seventeenth century, an apple this symmetrical would have been burned for witchcraft,” Grayson murmured low to Mailah, his voice raspy near her ear. “Or sold to a king for three gold coins.”

“Now it’s ninety-nine cents a pound,” Mailah smiled, placing four apples into a clear plastic bag. “Isn’t modern life great?”

“It has its merits,” Grayson agreed softly, his eyes locking onto hers with that deep, swoon-worthy warmth. “Though the company is what makes it bearable.”

While Mailah reached down to select a bunch of fresh basil, a tall, well-dressed man in his early thirties walked into the same aisle. He picked up a box of organic tomatoes near Mailah, then glanced over at her.

“Excuse me,” the man said smoothly, giving Mailah a friendly, charming smile. “Do you know if these tomatoes are good for making fresh pasta sauce? I’m trying out a new recipe tonight.”

Mailah looked up, giving a polite, friendly nod. “Oh, those are okay, but the plum tomatoes on the lower shelf are usually better for sauce. They have less water.”

“Ah, thank you! I really appreciate the advice,” the man said, leaning a bit closer with a warm grin. “You clearly know your way around a kitchen—”

Before the man could finish his sentence, the light in the aisle seemed to dim slightly.

A tall, broad figure stepped smoothly out of the shadows right beside Mailah. Grayson stood a full head taller than the stranger, his broad shoulders completely blocking the man’s view of Mailah. He placed one large, warm hand firmly on the small of Mailah’s back, pulling her flush against his side in a quiet, possessive hold.

Grayson stared down at the man with eyes as cold and dark as an icy winter sea. His expression was completely unreadable, but the sheer heavy authority radiating off him made the air in the vegetable aisle feel suddenly ten degrees colder.