Chapter 25 A Proposal And A Wedding
Sebastian walked out of the washroom in his bathrobe, fresh from a shower. Drops of water clung to his hair as he crossed the room.
He sat on the edge of the mattress, his weight dipping it down, and leaned closer. One of his hands settled on her slim waist, the other pressed into the pillow beside her head. His eyes softened as he took in her peaceful face, and then he bent down to press a kiss to her lips.
Emily stirred with a soft sound, her lashes fluttering open. Her drowsy gaze landed on him.
“Good morning, baby,” Sebastian whispered gently. “Time to wake up. It’s our wedding day.”
Emily let out a sleepy moan and looped her arms around his neck, refusing to let him move away. Instead, she pulled him down further, his face brushing against the curve of her neck.
“I’m so sleepy…” she murmured into his ear, her voice husky with slumber.
Sebastian’s lips skimmed her skin before he pulled back just enough to see her face. His eyes gleamed mischievously. “How about I help you wake up?”
Emily’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Okay then. Let me see how you help me wake up.”
Before she could breathe, he tossed aside the blanket and slipped under it with her. His mouth captured hers, his hands sliding along her sides. She giggled, squirming beneath him.
“You tricked me again!” she laughed breathlessly, but her laughter melted into a gasp when his lips deepened the kiss.
***
Three hours later, the shrill sound of the doorbell rang through the house. Emily sat up in a panic, her hair tousled. “My dress is here!” she squealed, leaping out of bed. She darted downstairs, her bare feet padding across the living room floor.
Sebastian, who was in the kitchen flipping through some files, raised his head just in time to see her dart across the living room like a whirlwind. He shook his head with a small smile.
At the door stood Harold, a wide grin on his face and a large bag in his hands.
“Miss Emily, your dress is here!” he announced proudly. “Your makeup artist will be arriving soon to get you ready for the wedding.”
Emily beamed and clasped her hands together. “Perfect!”
Harold followed her inside the house, handing over the bag to her as he beamed at her.
“Miss Emily, I can’t wait to see you in this dress. You should try it on right now before the makeup girl arrives. If there’s any adjustment needed, I will call the designer to come over immediately.”
The sound of a file slamming on marble echoed across the house. Both Emily and Harold froze for a second before turning toward the kitchen.
Sebastian was striding toward them, his expression dark, his jaw set. As he reached close, in one swift move, he wrapped his arm tightly around Emily’s waist, pulling her against himself.
His voice snapped. “Have you even washed your eyes after waking up? Why would my wife try on her wedding dress and show you first? What if you put an evil eye on her?”
Harold’s mouth dropped open. “What?!” he sputtered, offended. “Are you really accusing me of putting an evil eye on Miss Emily? I always tell her she looks beautiful in everything she wears! How can I possibly bring bad luck to her?”
Sebastian only pulled Emily tighter to his side, his expression deadly serious, as though Harold’s very gaze was a weapon. His voice dropped lower, sharp with warning. “You’re still not allowed to see her in this dress. The first person who gets to see her is me . Her husband.”
“Wrong!” Harold shot back instantly, equally indignant. “You’re the groom. You’re supposed to wait until the wedding. That’s the rule! You’ll bring bad luck if you see her before the ceremony.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think I give a damn?”
With that, he turned to Emily, softening only for her. His grip remained possessive as he tugged her along toward the staircase. “Come, baby.”
Emily stumbled, clutching the dress bag against her chest. “What are you doing? Where are we going?”
He glanced at her, briefly while taking her up the stairs. “I’ll help you change into the dress.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat, but she didn’t argue. Hugging the dress to herself, she let him lead her upstairs.
Behind them, Harold planted his fists on his hips and glared daggers at Sebastian’s retreating back.
“Just you wait!” he shouted after them. “Once I have my wife, I’ll treat you exactly the same way you’re treating me right now!”
***
Lucas strode into the Grand Palace Hall as twilight draped the sky in deep violet. The gilded chandeliers above spilled golden light across the marble floors. His steps were sharp, restless, almost too fast. Taylor hurried at his side, struggling to keep pace with the urgency in his stride.
“Where’s Dillon?” Lucas asked suddenly, his brow furrowing. “I haven’t seen him in two days.”
Taylor’s expression darkened with concern. “No one has. I tried asking around, but it’s like he’s vanished from the country. Even his family doesn’t know where he went. His clothes, his money, everything is still here—but after he walked out of your office two days ago, he never made it home.”
Lucas’s hands fidgeted in his pockets, clenching and unclenching until his knuckles ached. He glanced sideways at Taylor, his voice heavy with nerves. “She’ll forgive me now, right? If I propose tonight… if I give her what she’s always wanted, she’ll forget everything and reconcile?”
Taylor exhaled heavily, halting in his steps. “Lucas, I’ve told you ten times already. Yes! As long as you show her sincerity, she’ll forgive you. But listen to me.” His tone dropped, firm, warning. “But you better not hurt her again, Lucas.”
“I won’t,” Lucas swore instantly, his words tumbling out like a lifeline he clung to. His throat tightened, his breath shaky. “Never again.”
With trembling fingers, he slid a hand into his coat pocket and drew out a small velvet box. The click of it snapping open echoed louder than it should have in the vast hall. Inside, the diamond burned brilliantly, catching the light in a thousand shards. Lucas’s eyes softened.
“See this? It’s our family heirloom. She’s wanted it for so long.
I finally brought it for her.” His chest rose and fell unevenly.
“If she forgives me, if she accepts me tonight, I’ll marry her immediately.
I’ll take care of the divorce from Sebastian, the legalities—everything—within the week.
I’ll make her mine again, no matter what it takes. ”
Taylor gave a short, assuring nod, and then pressed his palm against the towering double doors and pushed them open. The grand space unfolded before them. High ceilings painted with sweeping murals, velvet drapes spilling to the floor, and a stage glittering with soft lights, waiting.
The place gleamed. Grand chandeliers, draped silk, and flowers everywhere. A raised stage dominated the center, and for a moment Lucas took it all in like a man catching his breath.
Taylor blinked and muttered, “This doesn’t even look like a proposal venue… it looks more like a wedding hall.”
Lucas didn’t look disappointed—if anything, his face lit up. “It’s perfect!” he said, eyes bright. “Make sure to send Jeremy a big check. Thank him for arranging this.” He pushed forward, excitement speeding his steps.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The entire hall went dark, save for a soft glow tracing along the walls. They both looked around in confusion.
Then—suddenly—bright spotlights blazed to life at the entrance, flooding the hall in blinding light. A massive golden board flickered on, letters burning across its surface in bold, gleaming script:
‘Welcome to the Wedding Ceremony of Emily Crawford and Sebastian Graves’
Lucas froze. His smile fell away.
A strangled sound ripped from his throat, raw and broken. His eyes locked on the blazing golden letters, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “What the—what the fuck is that?!” His voice cracked.
Beside him, Taylor’s face drained of color, his jaw slack in disbelief.
“This… decoration isn’t for you.” His words stumbled, disjointed, his gaze darting from the glittering board to Lucas’s expression.
“It’s for Sebastian and Emily’s wedding?
What the hell is going on? Why would he marry Emily today?
Wasn’t this supposed to be your proposal venue? ”
Lucas’s shock curdled into something darker. Heat rushed through his veins like acid, his entire body trembling. His fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. The velvet box in his pocket felt like a blade twisting in his gut.
“That bastard,” he spat, venom dripping from every word.
His chest heaved, fury scorching his throat as his eyes blazed at the glowing sign.
“He’s doing this on purpose. He wants to rip Emily away from me on the very day I was going to make her mine.
He’s terrified I’ll win her back. That’s why he planned this. He wants to steal her from me!”
He spun toward Taylor, and snarled. “Find that bastard right now!”
A calm, cold voice answered from ahead. “You don’t have to look for me, Mr. Cantrell.”
Sebastian was already walking toward them, dressed in a crisp Italian white suit that molded perfectly to his broad shoulders and trim waist, a black silk tie in place, polished leather shoes gleaming, a diamond-studded watch on his wrist, gold cufflinks catching the light, and a silk pocket square tucked neatly in his jacket—every detail radiating wealth, power, and undeniable allure.
They met him halfway, stopping just inches apart.
Lucas glared at him, hatred burning in his eyes. His voice dripped venom as he spat, “So the mighty Graves family is so poor they have to steal a bride? And even hijack a venue prepared by someone else?”
Sebastian’s lips curved into a slow, cutting smirk. “You must be joking, Mr. Cantrell. I already have a wife. Why would I need to steal yours?” His tone sharpened with deliberate cruelty. “In fact, I don’t recall you ever having a bride.”
Lucas’s jaw tightened, the muscle twitching in fury.