Chapter 13 - Cleaning House in ParadiseThe following month was a whirlwind of joyous preparation and new beginnings.
Under my direction, the historic Cassel desert estate at the foot of Red Rock Canyon was opened to the community for the first time in sixty years, hosting weekly charity art exhibitions and botanical workshops to benefit underprivileged youth across Clark County.
The domestic staff, who had once lived in fear of arbitrary cruelty under Victoria, were now treated as respected members of the extended household, with private quarters, educational stipends, and fair working hours.
One Saturday morning, I walked into the grand kitchen.
The scent of fresh vanilla, simmering peach preserves, and dark roasted coffee beans filled the warm air.
Mrs. Gable stood at the marble island, rolling out sweet brioche dough with a cheerful smile.
“Good morning, Miss Sylvie,” Mrs. Gable greeted me warmly, wiping flour from her hands. “The fresh peaches arrived from the Utah orchards this morning. Master Dominic requested his father’s favorite fruit tarts for afternoon tea.”
“I’ll help you roll the dough, Mrs. Gable,” I smiled, stepping up to the counter and reaching for an apron.
Mrs. Gable immediately caught my wrist with gentle firmness, tutting softly under her breath.
“You will do no such thing, young lady,” the old housekeeper scolded affectionately. “The Donna of this house does not roll brioche dough on a Saturday morning. You have a private jeweler arriving from Milan in thirty minutes.”
I laughed, leaning down to kiss the old woman’s cheek. “You spoil me, Mrs. Gable.”
“You earned every bit of it, child,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling with unshed tears. “Now go on. Master Dominic is waiting for you on the terrace.”
I walked out through the tall French doors onto the private terrace overlooking the desert canyon.
The morning sun bathed the sandstone cliffs in brilliant shades of rose and amber.
Dominic stood by the stone balustrade, wearing a casual white linen shirt and dark trousers, looking out over the tranquil valley below.
When he heard my footsteps against the flagstones, he turned around.
His face lit up with that rare, breathtaking smile that never failed to make my heart race.
“There you are,” he murmured, walking forward to catch me around the waist, pulling me against his broad chest.
He buried his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.
“Vanilla, clean rain, and desert sage,” he whispered against my skin. “The only scent I ever want to come home to.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, smiling against his cheek.
“Mrs. Gable kicked me out of the kitchen, Dominic. She said I’m not allowed to touch a rolling pin.”
“Mrs. Gable is a very wise woman,” Dominic chuckled, his hands resting naturally on my hips. “And she knows that your hands have far more important work to do.”
He reached into his pocket and produced a small, antique velvet box lined with dark silk.
My breath hitched in my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
“Dominic...” I breathed, looking up into his soulful gray eyes.
May you like
He didn't hesitate.
He dropped onto one knee on the sunlit flagstones of the terrace, surrounded by the blooming desert marigolds and the gentle breeze of the canyon.
