Blade

Chapter 27: Not a fan of cookies

Sienna

"Are you sure about that, mija?" Matilde asks, her brow furrowing and lips pressing together as concern flickers across her face while Camilla gently steers her out of the kitchen.

"Yes, mamma." Camilla rolls her eyes, sweeping a loose strand of brown curl from her forehead with a flick of her hand. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Matilde stops in her tracks and pivots toward Camilla, her expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation that makes me bite back a laugh. "Last Christmas, you told me the sweater I made for you was stolen by a group of thieves on your way back from the store."

"Yeah, what's your point?" Camilla replies with a casual shrug, folding her arms over her chest as if the entire accusation were a trivial inconvenience.

"That night, I found the sweater hidden under your bed." Matilde narrows her eyes at Camilla, planting her hands firmly on her hips.

Camilla runs her fingers through her tangled brown curls and mutters with a sheepish, reluctant smile, "The sweaters were embarrassing, mamma. They could ruin my reputation."

"What reputation?" Franco interjects with a teasing smirk, taking a slow sip of the coffee Matilde had carefully prepared.

"Shut up." Camilla grinds out the words, her glare sharp enough to make him raise his hands in mock surrender. Nico snickers beside him, but his amusement falters as Camilla redirects her piercing look toward him, forcing him to cough lightly in embarrassment.

"I made them out of love." Matilde deadpans, one eyebrow lifting in a teasing arch while a faint, amused smile brushes her lips.

"And I apologized for it. Seriously, just let it go." Camilla mutters, gently steering Matilde toward the door. Matilde hesitates, lingering in the warmth of her beloved kitchen as if reluctant to leave it behind.

"Just promise me you won't burn down the kitchen." Matilde's grin widens, her eyes shining with genuine concern as she leans in to pat her daughter's cheeks.

"I promise. Besides, you need a break, and the guys are here to keep an eye on us." Camilla gestures toward the three men behind the counter. Two of them wear bored looks, their eyes half-lidded, while the third taps away at his phone, a frown creasing his otherwise striking features.

"Fine." Matilde sighs, glancing around the kitchen one last time before stepping out with a visible sense of relief.

"Time to get baking." Camilla announces with a bright smile. She ties her hair into a neat bun and saunters to the fridge, her chocolate brown eyes scanning the contents as if plotting her next move.

I hop down from the counter stool beside Franco and stride toward Camilla, who is already pulling out the ingredients for the cookies.

"Do we need eggs and butter for the cookies?" Cam asks over her shoulder, her eyes fixed on the crate of eggs perched on the top shelf, uncertainty flickering across her face.

I give her a casual shrug, lifting the packet of sugar and flour from her hands. "I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

Camilla turns toward me, a curious look on her face. "I thought you said you knew how to make cookies."

I set the sugar and flour down on the smooth granite countertop and take the vanilla extract from her grip. "Correction, Cam. I baked cookies back in high school, but that doesn't mean I know the exact steps to follow. Besides, I'm a terrible cook."