Chapter 12
Angelina
After breakfast, Dez took my hand and led me around the corner, past the kitchen.
"Close your eyes again," he said.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Immensely." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Eyes closed."
I obeyed, and he guided me forward a few steps before stopping.
"Okay. Open."
I opened my eyes and found myself facing a professional spa setup that definitely hadn't been there yesterday.
A massage table, complete with heated blankets.
A station with what looked like every nail polish color ever created.
Another station with facial products, aromatherapy diffusers already running, filling the air with lavender and eucalyptus.
And standing beside it all, a woman in professional attire smiled warmly at me.
"This is Teresa," Dez said. "She's going to take care of you for the next few hours. Massage, facial, mani-pedi—whatever you want. Everything is already paid for, and she's here as long as you need her."
I turned to stare at him. "You hired a spa to come to your house?"
"I wanted you to relax. To be pampered." He picked up the gray lounge set from the chair. "Take this with you. Get changed after your massage. Take your time. Get everything you want done. I'll be working in my office if you need me."
"Dez, I…" I didn't have words.
"Enjoy it," he said softly, kissing my temple. "You deserve this."
Teresa gestured toward a changing screen in the corner. "Whenever you're ready, Ms. Castellano. We'll start with the massage. I do deep tissue, Swedish, hot stone, whatever you prefer. Then we'll move to the facial, and finish with nails."
I looked between them, overwhelmed.
"Go," Dez urged. "I'll check on you in a bit."
The massage was heaven.
Teresa had magic hands that found every knot and tension point in my body and worked them loose with patient, skilled pressure. I drifted in and out of awareness, the heated blankets, aromatherapy, and expert touch combining to turn me into a boneless, blissful puddle.
When she finished, I changed into the lounge set Dez had given me.
The cotton was impossibly soft, and I felt like I was being hugged by clouds.
The facial came next—cleansing, exfoliating, a mask that smelled like honey and rose.
Teresa worked with quiet efficiency, explaining each step, recommending products for my skin type.
A chef, not the same one from breakfast, but equally professional, appeared with herbal tea. Chamomile with honey, perfectly steeped, in a delicate porcelain cup. I was floating on cloud nine.
I'd never been pampered like this. Even when my mother was alive and money wasn't an issue, we'd been too busy building the company to indulge in spa days. This felt decadent. Luxurious. Like I was someone worth taking care of.
Teresa moved to the nail station. "What were you thinking for colors?"
I studied the array of options, overwhelmed by choice. "I'm not sure. What would you recommend?"
"For your skin tone? I'd say something bold. A deep burgundy or a rich coral. Or if you want classic, a nude or soft pink."
I was reaching for a burgundy when the door to Dez's office opened. I heard him approaching from down the hall. He walked in, still in his jeans and t-shirt, looking casually devastating.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Perfect." I smiled up at him. "This is incredible. Thank you."
"Good." He glanced at the nail polishes. "What color are you thinking?"
"I was going to do burgundy. Or maybe coral."
"Do pearl white," he said immediately. "Both hands and feet."
I blinked. "White?"
"Pearl white. Trust me." His smile was mysterious. "It'll look perfect."
I looked at Teresa, who nodded approvingly. "Pearl white would be stunning on you. Very elegant."
I was skeptical, white nails had never been my thing, but something in Dez's expression made me want to trust him.
"Okay," I said. "Pearl white it is."
He smiled, kissed the top of my head, and disappeared back into his office.
Teresa started on my feet first, and I had to admit, the pearl white looked better than I'd expected.
Luminous against my dark skin, catching the light in interesting ways.
Elegant and sophisticated without being boring.
By the time she moved to my hands, I was completely converted.
"He has good taste," Teresa said with a knowing smile. "Your boyfriend."
"He's not—" I started, then stopped.
What was he? Not my boyfriend. But after today, after last night, after everything— Maybe something more.
"He's special," I said finally.
"I can tell." She finished the last coat on my pinky finger.
"The way he set all this up. I've done a lot of private spa appointments for wealthy clients.
Most of them do it to impress someone or to check a box.
But this?" She gestured around. "This was personal.
He called my boss late last night, paid triple my normal rate, and gave specific instructions about making sure you felt taken care of. That's not an obligation. That's care."
My chest tightened.
"He is special," I whispered.
"Then don't let him go." She smiled. "Now, let's get you under the dryer and then you're all done."
By the time I emerged from my spa cocoon, six hours had passed.
Six hours of being massaged and pampered and beautified. I'd also been served a light lunch. A delicate salad with grilled chicken and a vinaigrette that tasted like summer, but now my stomach was growling again.
Dez appeared the moment Teresa started packing up her supplies.
"All done?" he asked.
"Yes. And it was amazing. Thank you." I held up my hands, showing off the pearl white nails. "You were right. I love them."
"I told you to trust me." He paid Teresa, adding what looked like a generous tip, and saw her to the elevator. “I’ll be back, I’m going to help her take all of this down.”
He’s a good man…
When he returned, he held out his hand. "Come with me."
"Where are we going?"
"To get ready for dinner." He led me back to the bedroom. "The chef made something special."
"More food? Dez, you're going to spoil me." Despite being hungry, he'd handled every meal since I'd been here.
"That's the plan." He gestured to the bed, where a dress was laid out—simple but elegant, a deep emerald green that would look stunning on me. "Put this on. Take your time. I'm going to change too."
He disappeared into the closet, and I picked up the dress.
It was perfect. The right size, the right style, the right color. How had he known?
I slipped it on and checked myself in the mirror. The dress hugged my curves, the emerald green making my skin glow. With the pearl white nails and my hair—which Teresa had blown out and styled in soft waves. I looked elegant. Polished. Beautiful. I felt it too.
Dez emerged from the closet in slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine. Effortlessly handsome, powerful, dangerous in the most delicious way. His eyes widened when he saw me.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Angelina, you're—"
"Is it okay?"
"Okay?" He crossed to me, his hands settling on my waist. "You're stunning. Absolutely fucking stunning."
He kissed me then, slow and deep, and I melted into him.
When he pulled back, I saw the promise of something more.
Plus, his erection was a giveaway to what he wanted to do instead of eat.
Or maybe he did want to eat… I pressed my thighs together, considering the way he liked to indulge in that particular act.
"Later," he murmured. "After dinner. For now, let's eat."
The dining table had been reset, candlelight casting everything in warm, romantic shadows. Dez pulled out my chair, and I sat, my stomach rumbling as he uncovered the dishes.
Garlic butter lobster, the shells already cracked open, the meat glistening and perfect. Creamy mashed potatoes with what looked like truffle oil. Asparagus roasted to perfection, topped with parmesan. And for dessert, mango sorbet in delicate crystal bowls.
"You’re going to make me gain so much weight," I mumbled, though I was already reaching for my fork.
Dez chuckled. “I’ll help you work it off." He winked, then Dez sat across from me, pouring wine, a crisp white that probably cost more than my rent. "I want you to understand something, Angelina. This isn't about convincing you to say yes. This is about showing you what saying yes would look like."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this is how I want to treat you.
Every day. Not with grand gestures necessarily, but with care.
With attention. With the kind of respect and cherishing you deserve.
" He met my eyes. "I will spend every day trying to make you happy.
Trying to give you what you need. Trying to be worthy of the trust you're putting in me. "
My throat tightened. "Same for me… Thank you, Dez. I really appreciate it.” I stopped myself from saying that he didn’t have to do this. Actually, I deserved it, and so did he. In a relationship, I’m all in. He’d be just as spoiled as I would be. Setting the standard and keeping it
"Eat first," he said gently. "We'll talk after."
The food was incredible. The lobster practically melted on my tongue, the mashed potatoes were silky and rich, the asparagus added just the right crunch and flavor to balance everything out.
We talked while we ate about his family, about my company, about the contract terms we'd discussed. Easy conversation that flowed naturally, punctuated by laughter and comfortable silences.
The mango sorbet was the perfect ending. It was light and refreshing, sweet without being overwhelming. When we finished, Dez stood and held out his hand.
"Come with me."
My heart started racing. "Where?"
"You'll see."
He led me back to the living room, to where the rose petals still traced their path across the floor.
The candles were lit again, creating a warm, flickering glow as evening light faded outside the windows. Dez led me to the center of the rose petals, then released my hand. And dropped to one knee.
My breath stopped.
"Angelina Castellano," he began, his voice steady but his eyes showing vulnerability I'd never seen before. "I walked into that ballroom looking for a solution to a problem. A wife to satisfy my father's ultimatum. Someone convenient who could play the part."
He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.
"What I found was you. And you're not convenient.
You're complicated and strong and beautiful.
You challenge me in ways I didn't know I needed.
You asked me last night to be open to love if it happens, and I've spent the last twelve hours thinking about that.
About what it means. About what I want."
He opened the box.
Inside was the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen. A round diamond that caught the candlelight, set in platinum with smaller diamonds along the band. It was classic, beautiful, and very much me. Perfect.
"I don't know what love looks like, the romantic kind," Dez said, his gray eyes locked on mine.
"But I want to try. I want to wake up next to you every morning.
I want to see you turn your mother's legacy into something completely yours.
I want to watch you grow round with our children.
I want to protect you and cherish you and learn every single thing that makes you smile. "
Tears were streaming down my face now.
"So I'm asking you, Angelina, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my partner, my Valentine, for as long as we both shall live?"
I stared down at him, this beautiful man on his knees in a sea of rose petals, offering me everything I'd been afraid to want.
My mother's will. My uncle's threats. The impossible deadline.
The demands on his side. All of it faded away.
Because this wasn't about business anymore.
This was about the way Dez looked at me like I was precious.
The way he'd spent the whole day trying to show me what our life together could be.
The way he'd admitted his fear but was willing to try anyway.
This was about choosing each other. Despite the odds.
Despite the timeline. Despite every logical reason to say no.
"Yes," I whispered.
His eyes widened. "Yes?"
"Yes!" I laughed through my tears. "Yes, I'll marry you. Yes to all of it. Yes."
He stood in one fluid motion and pulled me into his arms, kissing me with a intensity that made my knees weak. When he pulled back, his hands were shaking as he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
"How did you—" I stared at the ring, then at him. "When did you do this?"
"Early this morning. While you were sleeping." He smiled. "I measured your finger with a ribbon and had a jeweler size it."
"You measured my finger while I was asleep?"
"I'm very motivated when I want something." He kissed my hand, right above the ring. "And I wanted you to have the perfect ring."
I looked at it again, the way it caught the light, the way it looked on my hand, the weight of it both physical and symbolic.
I was engaged to Desmond Moretti. After knowing him for almost no time. It should have terrified me. Instead, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
"When?" I asked. "When do you want to get married?"
"As soon as possible. We both have deadlines." He pulled me closer. "But I meant what I said, you'll get a real wedding. Whatever you want. We'll make it special."
"I don't need special. I just need you." The words came out before I could stop them, raw and true.
His expression softened. "You have me. For better or worse, you have me."
"For better or worse," I echoed. "I like the sound of that."
"Good." He swept me up into his arms, carrying me toward the bedroom. "Because now that you've said yes, I plan to spend the rest of the night showing you exactly what you've agreed to."
"Is that a threat or a promise?"
"Both." His smile was wicked. "And this time, Mrs. Moretti-to-be, I'm not holding anything back."
My stomach flipped at the title. At the promise in his voice. At the heat in his eyes.
"Good," I whispered. "Because neither am I."
He carried me into the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind us. And as he laid me on the bed, as his hands found the zipper of my dress, as his mouth claimed mine with a possession that felt like a vow—
I knew I'd made the right choice. This was crazy. Impulsive. Reckless in every possible way. But it was also right. And I couldn't wait to see where it led.