Page 25

Harlow

Six Months Later

Prisms of jade-tinted light danced across the ballroom floor as afternoon sun filtered through stained glass windows.

Six months ago, this grand space had hosted the Jade Petal's opening celebration—a triumph of professional reinvention.

Today, it witnessed something more personal—a wedding I'd never planned but now couldn't imagine my life without.

"You're overthinking again," Giselle murmured, adjusting the pearl pins securing my upswept hair. "I can see those mental checklists forming behind your eyes."

I caught my sister's reflection in the mirror, her artist's eye having transformed my typically severe chignon into something elegantly soft. "Professional hazard," I admitted.

"Even on your wedding day?" She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "The real one, not the drunken Vegas chapel version."

"Especially today." I smoothed the silk of my gown—ivory rather than traditional white, its clean lines making a statement of quiet confidence rather than bridal spectacle. "It matters more when you're choosing it deliberately."

Giselle's expression softened as she fastened a pearl earring for me. "You two have written quite the story. From shutdown orders to 'I do,' with a brief detour through accidental matrimony."

I laughed, the sound freer than anyone at the commission would have recognized six months ago. "When you put it that way, it sounds absurd."

"The best stories usually are." She stepped back to admire her handiwork, a satisfied smile playing at her lips. "David thinks so too."

My eyes narrowed playfully. "Speaking of absurd stories—you and the CFO? After all your lectures about me getting involved with Easton?"

"What can I say?" Her grin turned mischievous. "Turns out financial analysis is surprisingly sexy. Besides, someone needed to keep an eye on the Jade Petal's books after that mess with Bryce."

The door opened before I could respond, revealing Commissioner Montgomery in a tailored navy pantsuit, her typically stern expression softened for the occasion.

"The guests are seated, Harlow." Her use of my first name—rare enough to notice—came with a genuine smile.

"The Collaborative Oversight Division is the talk of regulatory circles, you know.

Five casinos already implementing your framework, and the governor singing your praises to anyone who'll listen. "

Pride warmed my chest. The model Easton and I had pioneered had transformed from controversial experiment to emerging industry standard in just six months.

"Thank you for coming, Commissioner. Your support has meant everything to the program's success."

"I recognize innovation when I see it." She paused at the door. "You've changed the game, Harlow. Not just in regulation, but in how we think about the relationship between oversight and industry."

As she departed, Giselle handed me my bouquet—pale roses with sprigs of gardenia, wrapped in silk that matched my dress. "Ready to get married? Again?"

I nodded, surprising myself with the certainty I felt. "More than ready."

***

The ballroom had transformed under Easton's exacting vision.

Crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling caught and refracted light in dazzling patterns.

The Vegas skyline provided a living backdrop through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the Strip stretching like a river of neon against the darkening desert sky.

Familiar faces filled the seats—commission colleagues, casino executives, industry leaders who had once viewed both the Jade Petal and our relationship with skepticism.

Camilla Duarte sat beside the governor in the second row, their presence a tacit endorsement of everything we'd built.

My parents watched from the front—my father, the retired police officer whose unwavering integrity had shaped my own; my mother, whose judicial career had taught me that while rules mattered, context mattered too.

And at the altar, waiting with rare stillness, stood Easton.

Our eyes connected the moment I appeared, and everything else—the guests, the music, Vegas itself—receded.

In his gaze, I saw our entire unlikely journey reflected: the antagonism of our first encounters, the reluctant respect that followed, the passion that caught us both unprepared, and finally, this—a partnership neither of us had sought but both now treasured.

The ceremony passed in a haze of emotion until we reached our vows. Easton took my hands, his voice steady but intimate, meant primarily for me despite our audience.

"Harlow," he began, his eyes never leaving mine, "when you walked into my casino three years ago with that shutdown order, I was certain you'd ruined everything.

I never imagined you'd actually save me.

" His thumb traced circles on my palm, a gesture of connection only I could feel.

"You challenged every assumption, every shortcut, every compromise I'd made.

You held me to standards I didn't believe I could meet—until I did. "

He took a breath, emotion briefly overwhelming his usual composure.

"Our first wedding may have been spontaneous Vegas madness, but this one isn't. This time, we know exactly what we're choosing.

I choose you—your brilliance, your unflinching integrity, your impossible standards.

I choose our partnership in all its forms. And I promise to spend every day earning the trust you've placed in me. "

When my turn came, I was surprised by the steadiness of my own voice.

"Easton, I built my career on rules, boundaries, and meticulous planning.

Then you came along and upended everything—first as my professional adversary, then as my accidental husband, and finally as the partner I never knew I needed.

" I tightened my grip on his hands. "You taught me that sometimes the most valuable discoveries happen when plans collapse.

You showed me that flexibility isn't always compromise, and that trust can be stronger than certainty. "

I smiled, letting him see everything I felt without reservation. "This time, I'm choosing you deliberately—your vision, your determination, your capacity to learn and grow. I promise to challenge you when you need it, support you when it matters, and stand beside you in everything that comes next."

The exchange of rings—platinum bands that would never turn our fingers green like those chapel-provided ones—felt like sealing a covenant more significant than either of us had anticipated six months ago.

***

Later, as we danced beneath the crystal chandeliers, the Strip creating a tapestry of light behind us, I rested my head against Easton's shoulder.

"Record-breaking six months," he murmured against my hair.

"The Jade Petal's revenue or our relationship timeline?" I asked, smiling against the fine fabric of his tuxedo.

"Both." His hand tightened at my waist. "From enemies to partners to lovers to husband and wife in less than a year. I'd call that impressively efficient."

"Or reckless," I countered, though the word had lost its sting. "The best mistake we ever made."

"Some rules are worth breaking." He pulled back enough to meet my eyes, his expression unguarded in a way few people ever witnessed. "Or perhaps rewriting entirely."

"A collaborative approach?" I suggested, deliberately echoing our professional terminology.

"To everything." He spun me gently before drawing me back against him. "The Jade Petal, the oversight model, us—it all works because we stopped seeing each other as two-dimensional adversaries, but real people with beating hearts."

Around us, the reception continued—Giselle laughing with David near the champagne fountain, commissioners mingling with casino executives in conversations that would have been unthinkable a year ago, journalists documenting what had become Vegas's most unexpected power couple.

But in that moment, wrapped in Easton's arms as we moved across the floor, I wasn't thinking about career achievements or regulatory innovations.

I was thinking about chance—how one impulsive night had changed everything, how what should have been my greatest professional mistake had become my greatest personal blessing.

"What are you thinking about?" Easton asked, reading my expression with the familiarity of someone who had made studying me a priority.

"The future," I replied honestly. "Ours."

His smile—the genuine one, not the polished version he showed the public—warmed me from within. "I like those odds."

And as Vegas glittered beyond the windows, as familiar and yet different as we ourselves had become, I realized some gambles were always worth taking. Especially when you found a partner who made you better with every play.

"So do I, my love," I whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss. "So do I."