Page 48 of Liam (The Valeur Billionaires #4)

Chapter Thirty-One

LIAM

I adjust my tie, catching Aleria’s eye in the mirror. She smiles, smoothing down her dress, a vision in gold that makes my heart skip a beat.

“Ready to watch your brother tie the knot?” she asks, a hint of excitement in her voice.

I grin, turning to face her. “Ready to bet on how long it takes for something ridiculously over-the-top to happen at a Valeur wedding?”

Aleria laughs. She takes my arm, her touch sending a pleasant shiver through me. “Oh, I give it ten minutes, tops.”

We make our way to the venue. A stunning outdoor garden transformed into a fairytale setting. Flowers cascade from every surface, twinkling lights strung between trees. It’s beautiful but unmistakably extra.

“I think your ten-minute prediction might be optimistic,” I murmur to Aleria as we pass a fountain spouting what appears to be champagne. “We’re already at Valeur level ridiculous.”

She stifles a giggle. “Admit it. It’s impressive. In a ‘we have too much money’ kind of way.”

We greet family members, exchanging knowing looks at some of the more outrageous decorations. Aunt Mildred’s hat looks like it could house a small bird colony, and I’m pretty sure Uncle George’s cufflinks are actual gold nuggets.

As we near the ceremony area, I spot my siblings gathered in a quiet corner. “I should check on the groom,” I tell Aleria. “Make sure he hasn’t made a run for it.”

She kisses my cheek. “Go. I’ll save you a seat.”

I join Lucas, Cora, and Logan, our little circle a familiar comfort amidst the chaos.

“Well, big brother,” I say, clapping Logan on the shoulder. “Last chance to back out. I’ve got a getaway car fueled up and ready to go.”

Logan rolls his eyes, nervous excitement in his face. “Very funny, Liam. You know I’d never?—”

“Leave Sloane at the altar?” Cora finishes. “Please. We all know you’re completely whipped.”

We all laugh, the tension easing a bit.

Lucas raises an eyebrow at Logan. “Seriously though, you good?”

Logan takes a deep breath, nodding. “Yeah. I’m great. Ready, you know?”

I feel a surge of affection for my brother. “We’re proud of you, Lo. You and Sloane, you’re good together. She’s changed you. For the better.”

Cora nods, her eyes glistening. “I’ve never seen you so happy,” she adds, her voice thick with emotion .

Logan’s cheeks flush, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he straightens his shoulders, a quiet contentment radiating from him that was never there before.

The transformation in my older brother is striking. Gone is the cold, serious Logan who kept everyone at arm’s length. In his place stands a man softened by love, his usual sharp edges smoothed away by Sloane’s presence.

Across the room, Aleria catches my eye and gives a small wave, her smile brightening her whole face. She’s changed me, too, in ways I’m only beginning to understand. The constant need to prove myself, the weight of family expectations—they all seem lighter with her by my side.

“Places, everyone! It’s showtime!”

The garden transforms into a living fairytale. Thousands of bespoke lights illuminate the path, weaving through arbors dripping with rare orchids flown in from Southeast Asia. A string quartet strikes up a melody composed for this moment.

As I take my place beside Logan at the altar, I spot Aleria in the crowd. She winks, mouthing, “Don’t trip.” My retort dies on my lips as the music swells.

Sloane appears, flanked by her parents. Her mother, elegant in a silvery gown, dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. Her father, a distinguished man with salt-and-pepper hair, stands tall and proud, though his trembling hands betray his emotion.

Sloane’s dress, a cascade of handmade French lace and Tahitian pearls, catches the light like captured starlight. But it’s Logan’s face that steals the show. My stoic older brother, the man I’ve seen stare down corporate raiders without blinking, looks transformed.

Beside Logan, our father stands tall, his hand resting on Logan’s shoulder. The pride in his eyes is unmistakable, different from the reserved businessman the world usually sees. For a moment, I glimpse vulnerability in Dad’s expression, a mix of joy and perhaps a touch of bittersweet nostalgia.

As Sloane reaches the altar, her father places her hand in Logan’s, whispering something that has both men nodding. Sloane’s mother lets out a quiet sob of joy, stifled behind her handkerchief.

“If you start crying, I’m legally obligated to mock you for eternity,” I whisper. Logan’s lips twitch, but his eyes never leave Sloane.

In this moment, watching my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law surrounded by the love of both families, I’m struck by the power of love to change us all. Even the most guarded hearts, it seems, are no match for the right person.

The vows are a rollercoaster of emotion and laughter. Logan, in a rare display of humor, promises to “always let you win at Scrabble, even when I have a triple word score.” The crowd chuckles, and I catch Aleria’s eye. The love there makes my heart stutter.

Post-ceremony chaos ensues as Cora, custom tablet in hand, attempts to wrangle the Valeur clan for photos. “If you all don’t cooperate,” she threatens, “I’m releasing the drone swarm.”

My best man's speech has the crowd in stitches. “To Logan,” I conclude, raising a glass of champagne from a virtually extinct vineyard, “who proved that even workaholics with the emotional range of a teaspoon can find love. Sloane, you’re not just a saint; you’re a miracle worker. We’re all in awe. ”

The reception kicks into high gear. Ice sculptures melt, revealing vintage timepieces for guests. A world-renowned chef prepares meals.

The soft strains of the orchestra spill into the night air, the first notes of a waltz echoing across the garden. Logan takes Sloane’s hand, their movements elegant, like they were made for this moment. More couples join them, and soon, swirling figures fill the garden.

I turn to Aleria, unable to take my eyes off her. The glow of the lanterns dances across her face, casting a warm, golden light that makes her look like something out of a dream.

I extend my hand. “Dr. James,” I say, my voice low and teasing, “would you do me the honor?”

Her lips curve into a smile that does wicked things to my pulse. “I thought you’d never ask, Mr. Valeur.”

As we step onto the floor, everything else fades away.

The cool night air, the soft murmur of the crowd—it’s just the two of us, lost in the rhythm.

Aleria fits against me, her body aligning with mine in a way that feels effortless, natural.

My hand presses against the small of her back, drawing her closer as we glide across the stone floor, the waltz carrying us in slow, deliberate circles.

“You’ve been hiding talents from me,” I murmur, my lips brushing the shell of her ear as I guide her into a smooth turn. “I didn’t know you could waltz.”

Aleria tilts her head back, her breath a soft laugh against my neck. “Just because I spend most of my time with equations doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little footwork, Mr. Valeur.” She lifts her chin. “Fifteen years of ballet. I could out-dance you in my sleep.”

I raise an eyebrow, pulling her even closer, the warmth of her body igniting something deep and primal. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” she teases, her lips brushing close to my ear as we spin. “Though I’m not sure you could keep up.”

I tighten my hold on her, my grip on her waist firm. “Oh, I think I can handle you just fine.”

A challenge glints in her eyes, but her lips part, betraying the effect this closeness is having on her. Her fingers skim up my arm, lingering at the nape of my neck, and it takes every ounce of control not to drag her off this dance floor and claim her here and now.

She doesn’t miss the shift, the possessiveness in my touch, and a sly smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

“You’ve got a tight grip there,” she murmurs, her voice teasing yet breathy, almost daring me to let go.

My hand slips lower on her back, fingers brushing the bare skin just above the edge of her dress. A faint shiver runs through her, a telltale sign she’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be.

“Not letting go,” I murmur, my lips near her ear. “Not tonight. Not ever. I’m done running.”

Her fingers tighten on my shoulder. “You sure about that, Valeur?”

I lean in. “Only thing I’m sure of.”

She exhales. “I guess that means I’m stuck with you.”

I spin her, pulling her right back into my arms before she has a chance to move away. Her soft gasp is almost drowned by the orchestra, but I catch it. Every bit.

“Damn right,” I murmur, my grip firm but full of promise. “No one else gets to dance with you like this. ”

Her lips part, eyes flashing with that familiar fire. “Lucky for you,” she whispers, “I don’t want anyone else.”

As the waltz slows, I guide Aleria through the final turn, her body fluid and graceful against mine.

Her eyes never leave my face. That spark of defiance mixed with something deeper—something that tugs at my chest in a way I can’t ignore.

The music fades, but neither of us moves.

We’re suspended in the moment, her hand resting in mine, her breath still coming quickly.

“You still surprise me,” I murmur, my voice a low rasp against her ear. “Every time I think I know all your moves…”

She tilts her head back, her eyes dark with a teasing glint. “And here I thought you’d learned how I work by now.” Her lips curve, daring me.

“Oh, I’ve learned,” I say, letting my hand slide just a fraction lower. “But there’s always room for discovery.”

Her breath hitches, just barely, and it sends a thrill through me. She leans in, lips brushing close to mine, teasing me with the warmth of her breath. “Careful, Liam. I’d hate to overwhelm you.”

I smirk, my grip on her waist tightening as I pull her closer. “I don’t get overwhelmed, Aleria. But I’d say you’re dangerously close to pushing me there.”