Page 27 of House of Sin
I stood by the stove, stirring the final dish with absolute focus. It had to be perfect. My gaze lingered on the doorway, nerves and excitement curling in mystomach. I hope so,” I replied, adding more seasoning to the pot. “He’s not one for fuss, but he deserves this.”
Elona, one hand placing candles on the cake, the other cradling a glass of whiskey, grinned over her shoulder. “Oh, he’s gonna love it,” she said, voice bubbling with excitement. “Just make sure he’s had a drink or two before he realizes we’ve gone full sentimental.”
I smiled, almost in spite of myself. “He doesn’t need whiskey to know we care, Elona.”
“Maybe not,” she said with a shrug, “but it doesn’t hurt.”
Violet set the glasses in place one by one, aligning them with care. Nearby, Nell lingered in the doorway, a bundle of Emil’s favorite wildflowers cradled loosely in her hands. Color warmed her cheeks as an unfamiliar, almost luminous anticipation softened the edges of her usually unreadable expression. She was his wife, his anchor, the only person who could soften him with a look and undo him with a touch.
“I can’t wait to celebrate him,” she said, placing the bouquet in a vase at the center of the table.
“I know,” I acknowledged, moving beside her to help adjust the stems together.
“He’s never liked attention,” Nell added.
The words had barely left her mouth when the door creaked open, and Emil stepped inside, shadow stretching ahead of him. He stopped short at the sight of us gathered there, excitement radiating from our faces. His brow tightened in confusion as he looked from Nell then to me, searching for clues. His gaze drifted to the gentle sway of candlelight, over the table and across the careful love folded into every detail.
“I—” he began, then stopped. Words seemingly got stuck somewhere behind his ribs. For all his strength, this kind of vulnerability was unfamiliar terrain.
Maeve beat the silence. “Happy birthday, Emil!” She chirped, unapologetically earnest, launching herself toward him, arms wide and catching him off guard. A funny sight, watching him try to brace for impact.
Nell reached him next, placing her hands on his shoulders like she’d been doing it forever. “Happy birthday, my love,” she said, softly. “I love you so much.”
Everything else seemed to fade away as they kissed, a kiss built over years of choosing each other, again and again. Nell pulled away first, slowly, as if reluctant to break the spell. Emil stood frozen for a heartbeat too long. Then his jaw slackened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, his tell that he was overwhelmed but trying not to show it.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” He said in a low voice.
Elona handed him the whiskey, brow arched, dared him to resist. “Oh, but we did. Now sit, before I start singing.”
Violet, from behind the candles, added softly, “It’s for everything you do. For all the ways you keep us safe.”
Emil looked at her then, something unspoken passing between them. He didn’t respond, not verbally. He didn’t need to. His gratitude was in the way his posture eased, in the way his fingers curled gently around the glass. We had closed the brothel for the night, no clients, no noise, just this. A cherished pause in our otherwise chaotic lives. As Emiltook his place at the head of the table, the women gathered around him, serving him first from each dish.
Elona raised her glass, voice rich adoration. “To Emil,” she declared, “the man who gets it done. The man who makes sure we’re all still standing, even when we don’t know how. The man who never asks for thanks, but damn well deserves it.”
“To Emil!” Our shouts rang out, and the clinking of glasses sounded like armor falling to the floor.
His lips twitched into a shy, almost uncomfortable, smile. “I don’t deserve all this,” he mumbled.
“You do,” Nell replied with a sparkle in her eyes, “but don’t get used to it. We’re notthatsoft.”
A few quiet laughs stirred around the room. Even Emil let a smile slip, and for once, he didn’t fight the love being offered. Then Maeve, still glowing from the wine and warmth of the moment, clapped her hands once to get everyone’s attention. “Okay,” she said, her grin a little softer now, less teasing and more meaningful, “time for the tradition.”
Emil blinked. “What tradition?”
“The birthday circle,” Nell said, sliding her chair a little closer to his. “Everyone at the table shares one thing they love about the birthday person.”
Emil opened his mouth to protest, but Violet gave him a look that made it clear he didn’t get a vote.
“And ...” Maeve added, raising a finger like she was delivering the twist in a thrilling novel, “at the end,youhave to share one thing you love about yourself.”
Elona let out a low whistle. “That’s the hard part, darling.”
Emil gave a half smile, still skeptical. “Sounds like a trap.”
“It’s a tradition,” Nell corrected, “and it’s happening.”
There was a pause while everyone took a minute to think. Then Violet began. “I love how you listen,” she said, her gaze steady on the birthday boy, “even when you say nothing, you hear everything. You remember the things the rest of the world forgets.”
