Arabella sat with one sock halfway on, unable to contain her curiosity as she leaned in to look at the card. "Elowen... Aerona... Elara... What does the first one mean?"

Frederick explained, "It means Holly tree. A beautiful plant that bears small red berries."

"And Aerona?"

"Sprite of the air, or a bird. It represents agility and freedom."

"...And this one?" Arabella pointed to the last name, Elara, a strange look of confusion crossing her face.

"A star, a moon—it is also a satellite orbiting Jupiter," Frederick said. As he spoke, he reached down to pull up her sock the rest of the way, his thumb grazing over her fair instep with a practiced nonchalance. "See which one you like."

Arabella stared intently at the three names, her lips moving in a silent whisper. "Elara..."

It was strange. The moment she uttered the name, her brain seemed to react instinctively. Glimpses of images flashed through her mind—voices calling out to her: Elara, Elara...

A dull ache began to throb in her head.

"Does your head hurt again?" Frederick asked, looking concerned as he saw her face scrunch up.

Despite the various medical checkups he had commissioned, every report insisted there was nothing physically wrong with her brain.

"It doesn't hurt if I don't think about it," Arabella said, choosing the path of least resistance. She quickly pushed the thoughts aside and snuggled into Frederick's arm, rubbing her cheek against his sleeve in a spoiled, clingy gesture.

Frederick had stayed home today, trading his formal attire for a comfortable, light beige vicuña wool mock-neck sweater. It was soft to the touch and carried the deep, warm scent of a mature man. As she nuzzled against him, Frederick remained still, indulging her whims as his gaze dropped to the tip of her delicate nose.

A second later, she buried her face directly into his chest.

It felt incredibly comfortable there—fragrant, and the heavy, solid weight of his pectoral muscles provided her with an absolute sense of security. Arabella didn't want to leave. She even gave his chest a couple of playful squeezes with her hands, sniffing greedily like a mischievous child. To her, this spot was heaven.

Frederick was helpless against her. He stroked the back of her head gently, silently permitting her increasingly bold behavior. Sometimes he truly wondered if this little bird saw him as a mother figure, the way she seemed to want to cling and "nuzzle" for comfort.

But he certainly wasn't her mother.

Frederick let out a soft laugh. "Have you picked a name?"

"Mmm..." Arabella's voice came out muffled through the wool of his sweater. "Let's go with Aerona. You call me Birdie, after all."

Frederick was pleased with the choice. "Aerona. It's elegant. It suits you."

His Aerona.

As he savored the thrill of fulfilled possessiveness, Frederick's aura darkened. His little bird—from her head to her toes, down to her very name—belonged entirely to him. He had rarely felt possessive over anything in his life, and never over a person, but the intensity of this new instinct surprised even him.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself hoping she would never recover her memories. He wanted to keep her here, sheltered in his territory, where no one could ever take her away.

Now that she had a name, "Aerona" rubbed against his chest with even more delight. But then, she thought of her original name. What was it? Had her mother chosen it, or her father? Was it beautiful? It must have been. She was such a "good girl," she must have been their most precious treasure.

She missed them.

A sudden wave of bitterness welled up in her chest. Her nose began to tingle and heat up with the urge to cry, and her eyes grew damp before she could stop them.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the name?" Frederick asked, tilting her chin up.

Arabella looked at him sadly. "I miss my mommy and daddy. I don't know where they are."

Frederick sighed, his knuckle brushing away a tear at the corner of her eye. He shifted his posture, crossing his long legs. Beneath the sharp line of his trousers, a glimpse of his ankle, wrapped in a black sock, was visible. "If your parents came for you right now," he asked casually, "would you go back with them?"

Arabella froze. She had never actually considered that.

If they found her, of course she would go back! But as soon as the thought formed, she looked at Frederick. If her parents lived far away, she wouldn't be able to see him every day. It was an impossible choice.

Frederick studied her conflicted expression; he didn't need to guess to know what she was thinking.

"Aerona."

The girl, still unfamiliar with her new name, didn't react.

"Aerona."

"Ah! Yes?" Arabella snapped back to reality, finding herself staring into Frederick's sculpted, handsome face. Even at home, his hair was styled perfectly, though today it was parted slightly differently, combed back and to the side. The style accentuated the narrow, straight bridge of his nose.

Arabella felt overwhelmed. She realized she couldn't stare at him for too long; his beauty was like a physical attack that made her brain feel dizzy.

"What were you hesitating for? What were you thinking?" Frederick asked with a smile.

Arabella didn't want to tell him about her inner conflict, so she just shook her head and said it was nothing.

Frederick already knew the answer. He kept his smile, uncrossed his legs, and crooked his finger toward her. "Aerona, come sit here."

Arabella obediently shifted her weight. She was already sitting next to him, but now she pressed herself flush against his side. "I'm here," she said, placing her hands neatly on her lap.

Frederick chuckled. He turned toward her and reached out to wrap his hand around her waist.

She blinked, looking down. She hadn't realized her waist was so thin—or perhaps his hand was just that large. He could almost encircle her completely. As his grip tightened, the veins on the back of his hand pulsed, and a strange heat radiated between them.

Before she could react, she was pulled into his firm, burning embrace. As she settled onto him, she felt his muscles tense beneath her.

"What are you doing...?" Arabella whispered. She was sensitive to the shift in his aura; it was different than before. She felt a mix of nervous anticipation, her palm pressing against his chest as her heart began to flutter.

Frederick continued to gaze at her with a gentle intensity. He pressed his thumb against the center of her lower lip, rubbing it slowly, feeling the delicate, fleshy texture. Arabella watched him with curiosity, almost tempted to nip at his finger, but she behaved herself and held back.

Finally, his finger moved from her lips to the edge of her jaw, gently tilting her head back.

"Do you mind if I kiss you now, Miss Aerona?" he asked with a gentleman's grace.

In an instant, Arabella's mind went blank, her heart beating faster than it ever had before. A kiss? He wanted to kiss her?

She was going to kiss Frederick...?

Bathed in his scent and the heat of his body, she stared at his pale, perfectly shaped lips. Her cheeks grew crimson, but her eyes weren't hazy; they were brighter than ever. She was eager to try, yet afraid of looking foolish. "I... I've never kissed anyone before," she admitted shyly.

Frederick, of course, took this with a grain of salt—she had no memory, after all. For all he knew, she'd had a loving boyfriend before her accident. But it didn't matter. From this moment on, she would only be kissed by him. A mature gentleman only cared about being a woman's last, not her first.

He gave her back a few gentle pats. "I know. You are a little lady of taste; you wouldn't waste a kiss on an inferior man."

Those gentle pats sent a tidal wave through her system. Even though it was just a touch on her back, Aerona's body began to tremble. Her waist felt weak, and her legs pressed together instinctively. Every nerve in her body was screaming, pushed to the brink of explosion. Clutching his sweater, she leaned in toward him, her lips pouting slightly. They looked like glistening honey, or a tempting cherry.

Frederick smiled and lowered his head, sucking gently on her lips with a refined, gentlemanly air before pulling back. He wasn't like a restless adolescent; he didn't immediately try to push for more.

Even so, Aerona's face was completely flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She bit down on the spot where his lips had just been.

Is this what a kiss is? It felt like eating a cloud of marshmallow, though she couldn't quite name the flavor.

"Don't be nervous. You did very well," Frederick said, gently prying her teeth away from her lip. "That was just to get you used to my touch. But from now on... please do not think of me as your Daddy."

A "Daddy" would be gentle, and he didn't feel like being gentle right now.

"Why...?" she asked in a small voice. "You said you could be my D—"

Her voice was swallowed whole. Frederick's large, powerful hand suddenly clamped around the junction of her neck and jaw. He pulled her flush against his arm, and his lips crashed down onto hers once more.