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I move to sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. Her engagement ring finger is bare, but if everything goes according to plan, that won't be the case much longer.
“We are,” I confirm. “But this time, we have something to celebrate.”
“What's that?” she asks, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “This seems elaborate, even by your standards.”
My heart pounds as I slide from the sofa to one knee before her, producing the ring box from my pocket. Her breath catches, one hand flying to cover her mouth.
“Layla Carmichael,” I begin, opening the box to reveal the emerald nestled within. “You changed everything. My business philosophy, my priorities, my understanding of what it means to build something lasting. You showed me how to create instead of destroy, how to value legacy over quick profit, how to love without reservation.”
Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks as she stares at the ring.
“I had an entire speech prepared,” I admit, “with carefully chosen words and perfectly structured arguments. But now that I'm here, looking at you, all I want to say is this: I love you more than I knew was possible. I want to build a life with you, a family, a legacy together that matters. Will you marry me?”
For one heart-stopping moment, she simply stares at me, tears flowing freely. Then she launches herselfforward, nearly knocking me backward as her arms wrap around my neck.
“Yes,” she breathes against my lips. “Yes, Bennett. Of course, yes.”
Relief and joy surge through me as I slide the ring onto her finger, watching as she examines it in the golden light streaming through the windows.
“The pattern,” she whispers, holding her hand up to catch the light. “It looks like?—”
“Neural pathways,” I confirm.
“Oh, Bennett'.” She kisses me then, with all the passion and tenderness that has defined our relationship from the beginning. When we finally break apart, she's laughing and crying at the same time.
“I can't believe you planned all this,” she says, wiping her eyes. “The secrecy, the location, the ring—it's perfect.”
“You deserve perfect,” I tell her, framing her face with my hands. “You deserve everything.”
“I already have everything,” she says softly. “I have you.”
The words land heavy. Not painful, but overwhelming in their simplicity and truth. This woman, who could have anyone, chooses me. Not the billionaire or the CEO, but me. The man who's still learning how to build instead of tear down, how to love without conditions, how to be worthy of someone as extraordinary as her.
“Come here,” she whispers, pulling me up onto the sofa beside her. “I want to kiss my fiancé properly.”
Fiancé.The word sends a thrill through me that no business deal has ever matched.
I gather her close, marveling at how perfectly she fits against me, how right this feels. Outside, the Portuguesesun begins to set over the Atlantic, painting the sky in shades of coral and gold. Inside, we're lost in each other, in the promise of forever, in the knowledge that whatever challenges lie ahead, we'll face them together.
“I love you,” I murmur against her hair. “My brilliant, stubborn, transformative future wife.”
“I love you too,” she replies, settling more comfortably in my arms. “My reformed corporate shark turned benevolent billionaire.”
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the sunset paint patterns across the water, her new ring catching the fading light. In a few hours, we'll call our families, share our news with friends, begin planning a wedding. But for now, it's just us and the promise we've made to each other.
A wrong number that led to the right person. A business deal that became something far more valuable. A love story that started with complications and found its way to this perfect simplicity.
“So,” Layla says eventually, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. “What's our first act as an engaged couple?”
I consider the question seriously. “Dinner on the terrace? Champagne under the stars? Fucking you until you can't walk? Whatever you want.”
She tilts her head up to look at me, her eyes sparkling with mirth and love and infinite possibility.
“I want all of it,” she says. “Tonight, tomorrow, forever. All of it with you—especially the fucking part.”
“In that case, I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” I say as I lean down to kiss her again, lifting her in my arms and carrying her to the bed, sealing our engagement with the promise of everything still to come. And it’s as I undress her that I realize that I, Bennett Mercer—master ofacquisitions, builder of empires, collector of assets—have finally found the only thing truly worth having.
Forever with Layla Carmichael.
I can think of no greater fortune.