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To say such a thing was an understatement, that was for sure. There was no doubt that the luxury Cecilia enjoyed living with Cael--which was, to be certain, still a degree of luxury even to her--was nothing compared to the endless supply of money and fancy things she had been brought up with. Despite the nice home and fairly fat paycheck he received, there was no comparison to the wealth of any of her past beaus, or her former family.

It had bothered her for a while. While this was a fact that Cecilia did not jump to admit about herself, she was by birth rather entitled and materialistic. Even given how lucky she was to not be living on the streets at all, much less in an upper class home and not even having to work for it, she simply could not help the feeling of lack in the beginning. No matter how hard Cael obviously tried to make up for something that was not his fault, and something that he should not have had to feel he had to live up to for anyone's sake.

But that had been then. When had it changed, she was not quite sure, but Cecilia imagined that it had been somewhere around the time that this wonderful, kind-hearted man standing before her had told her that he loved her. Around the time when she watched him silently--for her sake, even--go through the torment while she flipped back and forth between staying or abandoning him for a much richer, much more powerful, much more pureblooded betrothed. It had changed then, probably, she thought. That must have been when she realized that she wasn't just lucky, she was too lucky.

And the Cecilia Hooke who always knew that she deserved everything began to realize that she deserved absolutely none of this that had fallen into her lap.

So it was that newly-discovered humility with which she set down her modest loot on the counter and gave him a genuine smile. "I did pretty good today, I think," she agreed, without the slighest hint of obliging him in her tone. Yes, the past nearly two years had certainly changed her.

Cecilia abandoned her bags immediately to lean towards him to plant a kiss on his cheek--at which time she realized that he smelled of something different than usual. The aroma of spices, perhaps Italian, clung to his shirt and she leaned her face plafully into his neck to plant another kiss there.

"You smell wonderful," she spoke into his skin with a mischievous grin. "Are you planning to be my dinner tonight?" Because she wouldn't have had a problem with that at all.