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“Same goes for you, then. I’m very jealous, Nick. I can’t do the constant “worry about other women” thing. I know my worth, and I’m a confident woman, but I’m really jealous and I won’t tolerate any disrespect,” she says, searching my face for any signs of uncertainty, but she won’t find any.

“I’m only yours, baby.” I pull her closer. “I crave you so much, I’m afraid I’m gonna lose my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about you since I came from New York,” I admit while I hug her tight.

I’m so happy and at peace in this moment I wonder how I lived my life without her for so long.

“I have a photoshoot at eleven o’clock, and you’re coming with me. After that, we can grab some food, do whatever you want.” I pause—then smile, lowering my voice again. “But first, I have something for you,” I whisper the words against her temple, then pull back just enough to meet her eyes.

Before she can ask, I stand and disappear into the living room. My heart is beating a little faster—not from nerves, but from anticipation.

I return a moment later, carrying a massive bouquet of pink peonies—one hundred and one, to be exact.

Her favorite.

Her eyes widen, shimmering with emotion. A soft gasp escapes her lips as I place the bouquet in her arms.

Nestled between the blooms, she finds a small velvet box and a folded black note. She pulls them out carefully, her fingers trembling slightly.

My fiancée opens the note first.

It’s hand-written—by me.

“I’m completely yours, if you’d have me.

Nick.”

Her breath catches.

While she’s still holding the note, I gently take the box and open it in front of her.

Inside rests a stunning ring—a delicate rose gold band, encrusted with tiny white diamonds that shimmer like stars. At the centre, a rare pale pink diamond, perfectly cut, glows softly in the light—romantic, timeless, uniquely her.

Her eyes meet mine, glistening. And I smile—fully, fiercely, completely hers.

“I know this marriage was planned. Forced, even, by our parents. But I need you to believe me when I say I’m not doing this just to save you from marrying someone else.” I pause, my eyes locked with hers. “I’m doing this because I want you. Because I need you. I want you to be mine for the rest of our lives.”

She stares at me, her lips parting, and then the tears come—soft, quiet, unstoppable. Her whole body trembles under the weight of the moment, and I don’t move. I let her feel it all.

Then, gently, I slip the ring on her finger and bring her hand to my mouth, pressing a kiss to it.

She sets the bouquet aside and leans toward me. I rise just as she does, both of us standing now at the edge of the pool, our bodies aligned.

She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me—deeply, slowly, with everything she is.

Her lips brush against mine when she whispers, “I want to be yours. And I really want you to be only mine.”

FIFTEEN

Sierra

The photoshoot was very entertaining. I had a lot of fun watching Nick half-naked on the ice, posing like a tortured Greek God while glancing at me instead of the camera. He barely looked away from me the entire time, much to the photographer’s exasperation.

But if I’m being honest, I barely paid attention to the actual shoot. My eyes kept drifting down to my left hand—to the ring.

A pale pink diamond, perfectly nestled in platinum, soft and elegant, catching every shard of the light like it knows how obsessed I am with it. I can’t stop looking at it, can’t stop playing with it, can’t stop smiling like a fool every single time my gaze lands on it.

I never saw it coming. Not the flowers. Not the note. Not him—on one knee, saying those words that cracked my heart wide open in the best possible way.

I’m over the moon. Completely, blissfully his.