“Camille.” His voice, usually so commanding, was rough with emotion. “I know the world would call this fast. They deal in calendars. We operate on a different timeline. We have a bond that defies logic. A love that feels like my first full breath in twelve years.”
He held her gaze, his alpha certainty melding with a vulnerable honesty that made her heart ache. “You are my fated mate, my equal, the brilliant, breathtaking woman who looked at my damaged soul and saw a man worth loving. I don’t want to wait. I want every day, every challenge, every victory, with you at my side. As my partner. As my wife.”
He took the ring from the box, the green stone glowing. “Will you marry me? Share my life, my pride, and every single tomorrow with me?”
Tears spilled over Camille’s lashes, hot and unchecked. The old fears of recklessness with her heart and of love being a trap were utterly incinerated in this moment, in the absolute rightness screaming through the bond and her own heart. This wasn’t a transaction. It was a claiming, and a surrender, and a promise, all offered freely by the one man who had never asked her to be anything but herself.
She didn’t hesitate. She was done hesitating.
“Yes.” The word was a sob and a laugh. “Yes, Leander. A thousand times, yes.”
The gardens erupted. The cheer was deafening, a roar of approval that shook the lanterns above them. But Camille barely heard it. Leander was on his feet now, sliding the cool, heavy ring onto her finger, and then his arms were around her. He kissed her, deep and consuming, a brand of possession and devotion that she felt in her very bones. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her arms locked around his neck, tasting her own tears and his fierce love.
She knew with every fiber of her being that this proposal was the most brilliantly, perfectly right thing that had ever happened to her. The future wasn’t a daunting blank page anymore. It was a dazzling infinite canvas, and she couldn’t wait to paint it with him.
SIXTEEN
LEANDER
The city’s skyline rose before them like a jagged crown of glass and steel, but Leander felt disconnected from it. For once, the view didn’t represent a kingdom to defend, but a shared canvas. The drive back to Manhattan in the Range Rover’s quiet, leather-scented interior was a liminal space, a cocoon where the warmth of the Hamptons still clung to their skin and the roaring approval of his pride still echoed in his bones.
A profound, almost dizzying sense of rightness hummed beneath his sternum, a sensation so new he was still learning its name. It wasn’t the satisfaction of a closed deal or the quiet control of a well-managed empire. This was… pure joy.
She’d saidyes.
His lion preened, a contented rumble in his soul. He’d known from the first touch she was his, but the knowing had been a primal, possessive truth. Now, it was layered with something richer: the pride’s blessing, his mother’s immediate love for her, and the glittering emerald on her finger that caught the passing streetlights like a promise.
One week. The world would call it reckless. But his heart and soul, scarred and cynical as they were, had never been morecertain. He wanted every dawn with her, every challenge, and every quiet evening. He wanted to build a legacy his father would have looked at with pride—not just of stone and steel, but of heart.
“This weekend was… truly perfect,” Camille said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. She turned her head, her smile a gentle curve in the dim light. “Thank you for showing me your family’s home and introducing me to your mother and your pride. It’s the piece of you I didn’t even know I needed to see.”
The raw gratitude in her voice sent a sharp pang of protectiveness through him. She’d been starved of such simple, authentic belonging. “It’s your home now, too,” he said, the words an Alpha decree and a heartfelt vow. “We’ll go back often. Happiness and that bay air take priority over blueprints.”
She laced her fingers through his where they rested on the gear shift. “I would like that.”
Her touch was electricity straight to his core. It grounded the soaring feeling, tethering his dreams directly to her. The practical, future-building part of his mind, now alight with possibility, saw the next logical step. It was time to merge the two halves of his world completely.
“Speaking of blueprints,” he began, his tone shifting to the one he used in boardrooms, though it was softened by an edge of possessive pride. “I can’t have you as my assistant anymore.”
He felt her slight jolt of surprise through their joined hands, and saw the confusion cloud her expression in his periphery. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re my fiancée,” he stated, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world. “Having you work under me is not just unprofessional. It’s an insult to your talent. I’d be wasting you.” He glanced at her, letting her see the absolute conviction in his eyes. “I’m going to speak to the Board. I’m making you my business partner.”
The stunned silence that followed was thick. He could almost hear the rapid calculations, the old fears of overstepping or being perceived as receiving a handout warring with the bright flare of ambition he knew lived within her.
Then, a smile broke across her face—not polite or contained, but a wide, dazzling expression of pure awe.
“A partner,” she breathed, as if tasting the word.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Your insights on Lexington prove you can handle complex projects. Your people skills, your eye for design… you could land any client we want.” He took a steadying breath to calm his excitement. “This isn’t about giving you a title because of who you are to me. It’s about creating a space where you can shine, Camille.”
The words felt inadequate for the vision forming in his mind: not a solitary king on a glass throne, but a true partnership.
The dam broke.
“We could pitch to the Van Allen group for that waterfront revitalization,” she blurted, her mind already racing ahead. “Their current proposal is all cold geometry. We could introduce biophilic design, create communal spaces that feel like… like the pride lands, but with an urban edge. Warmth and authenticity, but with the city’s energy. We could reshape whole blocks to feel human again.”
Her ideas poured out, a passionate, brilliant torrent that painted a new future for his company—theircompany—right there in the dashboard’s glow. It wasn’t about cold expansion or dominating a market. It was about creating beauty and fostering community. It was everything his father had whispered about late at night. The heart behind the blueprints.
