Page 70

His laughter rumbled through him, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “It’s not business,” he promised. “It’s personal.”
A shiver ran down my spine.
Something about the way he said it, the way his thumb traced slow circles against my palm, sent my heart racing.
I swallowed hard. “You know I hate surprises.”
“I know,” he murmured, lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a lingering kiss to my knuckles. “But you’re going to love this one.”
I stared at him, trying to read between the lines.
Was this about the baby? About our future?
Hope fluttered in my chest, unsteady but real.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel terrifying.
It felt full—of possibilities, of us.
And whatever Christian had planned…I was ready.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I told him.
16
CHRISTIAN
I had never beena man who doubted myself. Confidence was ingrained in me, something I had sharpened through years of helping run the family business.
But as I stood in my penthouse, waiting for Scarlett to arrive, I felt something foreign—an unshakable anticipation mixed with the sharp edge of nervousness.
It was a rare feeling, one that only she could stir in me.
The velvet box in my pocket felt heavier than it should have, like it carried the weight of everything we had been through, every battle we had fought side by side. And in a way, it did.
Scarlett was my equal in every way. She was fierce, unbreakable, and the strongest person I knew. But I also knew she carried her own doubts, her own fears.
Tonight, I wanted to erase those doubts. I wanted to give her something undeniable.
A future—together.
The sound of the elevator chiming pulled me from my thoughts.
I turned just as the doors slid open, and there she was.
Scarlett stepped inside, her auburn hair loose around her shoulders, wearing a sleek dark red dress that hugged her in all the right ways.
But it wasn’t the dress that held me captive—it was the way her eyes softened when she saw me, the way her lips curved into that small, tired smile, like she was home.
“Hey,” she murmured.
“Hey,” I echoed, my voice rougher than I intended.
She glanced around the room, eyes flicking to the dining table set for two—soft candlelight flickering, wine already poured. She arched a brow.
“This looks suspiciously like a date.”
I smirked. “You saying I can’t take my girlfriend out on a date?” I asked.