Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Bea’s birthday was a clear Saturday in spring, the skies as gloriously blue as the UR could offer.
Gage had picked her up, the destination a surprise. She watched out of the passenger window as the road climbed higher, cutting through dense forest. Pavement gave way to gravel, the tires crunching softly as they pulled onto a private road.
Bea glanced at Gage.
He looked back at her briefly, but didn’t explain.
A set of enormous lattice gates swung open upon their arrival.
The car moved deeper into the estate, past orchards planted in flawless symmetry, and terraced slopes blanketed in wildflowers.
Then she saw them.
The maples.
Bloodgood Japanese maples, their leaves a striking, impossible crimson.
They stood in stark contrast against the deep greens of the mountainside, their branches stretching wide.
Some soared high, canopies sweeping overhead like vaulted ceilings, while others arched lower, branches trailing, reaching for something unseen.
The ground was a painted canvas of red and gold, fallen leaves collecting at the banks of a glassy stream. A wooden footbridge spanned the water. It felt suspended, untouched by season or time.
Bea stepped out. The air was cooler here, threaded with damp cedar and the quiet scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen.
She turned to Gage. “Where are we?”
He stood beside her, hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on her reaction.
“Someone’s garden,” he said simply. “You told me about your birthday. I figured this was close enough.”
Bea swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to explain the ache in her chest—the quiet, unshakable warmth of being heard. That he’d made the impossible, possible. For her.
His fingers brushed against hers. “Come,” he said, taking her hand.
The picnic had been set beneath a smaller maple tree, its branches arching like a cathedral of red. The spread was premium, but not excessive—a dark woven blanket, wooden containers filled with samgyeopsal, kimbap, kimchi, fluffy white rice, and spicy tteokbokki.
A thermos of hot ginger tea, and a bottle of makgeolli, rested beside them.
They ate, leisurely, the conversation flowing as naturally as the breeze. The food was delicious. Not as good as her umma’s, but authentic, comforting.
After a lull, Gage spoke. “You don’t have to go.”
Bea stilled, chopsticks pausing midair. She knew what he meant.
“I know I don’t,” she said softly. “I want to.”
He poured them each a cup of tea, with methodical movements. “For the whole summer?”
Bea studied him. The way he moved. The way he never asked for anything outright.
“It’s a long way to go for a short time,” she said.
He didn’t reply for a long moment. “We don’t have to talk about it today.”
She nodded. “Another day.”
Bea picked at the last of the rice. A breeze rustled through the branches, scattering flecks of golden sunlight across the blanket.
“What about you?” she asked. “What’s next for Gage King after graduation?”
Gage leaned back, stretching one arm over his knee. “Work,” he said. “My father’s expecting me to take on international expansions.”
“And you want to?”
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s always been the next move.” He went quiet for a moment. “It’ll happen, when it’s time,” he said. “There’s a deal I need to close here first.”
Bea nodded, not pressing. She was too buoyant to dissect. She assumed he meant business. Didn’t realize he was looking at her.
Before she could ask anything else, he pulled her toward him. Gently, deliberately.
She shifted without resistance, settling between his legs, her back against his chest. His arms braced behind him.
“You made my birthday really special,” she cooed, leaning against him.
Gage reached for the picnic basket.
Bea felt the shift of his muscles, the brief absence of warmth as he pulled something free.
A small, square box.
She straightened up. “What’s that?”
She opened it.
A watch.
Silver, with a white face and Roman numerals. Understated. Classic. The kind that never went out of style.
Her fingers brushed over it lightly, reticent. “Gage—”
“Don’t start.”
She scowled playfully. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
He quirked a brow. “You were going to complain.”
Bea let out a slow breath. “It’s Cartier.”
He tilted his head, unimpressed. Like she’d missed the point entirely. “Sweetheart, I’m not trying to sound like an ass but this was me being very considerate of your feelings.”
Bea’s head dropped back against his chest, laughing, with a small groan. Billionaires.
“Try it on.”
Bea lifted it carefully from the box. The metal was cool against her fingertips, impossibly light. She felt Gage’s chest press firmly against her back. His arms wrapped around her, engulfing, as he gingerly took the watch, and clipped it on her wrist.
Sunlight glanced off the smooth silver. It was beautiful.
She glanced up at him. Kissed his lips softly. “Thank you.”
“Happy birthday, Bea.”
“Georgie…seriously?”
One moment Bea was in Mayfield Hall sipping tea. The next—shoved into the back seat of Georgina’s red convertible, blindfolded like a kidnapping victim with better styling.
“You had your day with Gage,” Georgina said. “Now it’s our turn.”
Bea sighed. “That sounds ominous.”
“It should,” Naomi drawled. “We’re taking you somewhere with actual standards.”
The car stopped. The blindfold came off. Bea blinked up at the entrance of Midnight & Gold. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Naomi hooked an arm through hers. “Welcome to the club where your boyfriend’s credit limit is the starting entry fee.”
Midnight & Gold wasn’t a club. It was a bloodline checkpoint. A place where legacies whispered, wealth drank neat, and nothing was ever truly off the record.
Ornate ceilings loomed above, reflecting the amber glow of chandeliers, while a grand staircase curved elegantly into the depths of privilege. Plush seating invited conspiracies, and behind the glass-paneled bar, aged whisky and rare spirits gleamed.
“You could have warned me,” Bea muttered, tugging at her dress.
“I told you to wear the blue,” Georgina said, smiling. “But the white works. Sort of.”
“I thought we were staying in,” Bea bellyached.
Lillian’s eyes were wide and busy as the women slid into a velvet booth. A waiter appeared, silent, immaculate, as if summoned.
Naomi glanced at Bea’s wrist. “New watch?”
Bea flushed. “Birthday gift.”
“You know what they say,” Isabel piped up, “a watch as a gift…isn’t just a watch.”
“What is it?”
Isabel took a slow sip of champagne. “A deadline.”
Bea forced a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.
Naomi chuckled. “Honestly, I love knowing you. It’s like watching someone pet a white wolf. You think it’s tame—until it devours you.”
Bea groaned. “That’s not a flattering metaphor.”
Isabel set her glass down. “Flattering? No. Accurate? Absolutely.”
Georgina’s head tilted. “I’ve never seen him like this, Bea.”
The women fell silent.
“Like, the watch? Sure. Gage has more money than he’ll ever spend.” Georgie paused. “But the picnic? He’s literally engineering seasons for you.”
Their drinks were served. An elegant interruption. For a while, the women just drank.
Then Naomi complained, dramatic as ever, “Okay. I need to get this off my chest. Charles is a menace.”
Bea let herself exhale, grateful for the topic change. “Why? What did he do?”
Naomi waved a hand dismissively. “Something unforgivable. But then he shows up—cap in hand, flowers everywhere, with those ‘I’m so sorry, baby’ eyes.”
“And?” Georgina asked, eyebrow arched.
Naomi scoffed, like the answer was obvious. “Making up was almost as good as fighting.”
Isabel snorted, setting her glass down with a delicate clink. “Well, if we’re airing grievances…”
Naomi perked up, eyes glimmering with anticipation. “Mason?”
“Of course Mason.” Isabel leaned back, crossing her legs elegantly. “Spends two weeks lecturing me on time management—apparently, I’m ‘chronically optimistic with my scheduling’—then has the audacity to show up twenty minutes late to dinner without so much as a text.”
Bea blinked. “Did you call him out?”
“Naturally.” Isabel gave a regal shrug. “And what does he do? Hands me a perfectly formatted time-blocking planner with the rest of the semester scheduled out. Color-coded. With tabs. Says, ‘Thought I’d save you the trouble.’”
Naomi gasped. “Did you forgive him?”
Isabel gave a wry smile. “I’m not a complete monster. Besides, it was…alarmingly well organized.”
Georgina smirked. “So he’s got you running on his schedule now?”
“I know! Isn’t he cunning?” Isabel picked up her glass. “But I plan to overthrow him soon.”
They laughed.
It wasn’t until the laughter faded that anyone noticed Lillian hadn’t laughed at all.
Her voice was soft. But clear. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one not built for this place.”
Bea tilted her head, remembering something. “Wait…Founders’ Day. You were with someone. That senior? I saw you talking.”
“He asked what I was doing there. Said I didn’t look like I belonged.” She gave a faint smile. “I told him I wasn’t trying to.”
Georgina leaned forward. “And?”
“He laughed. Said, and I quote, ‘That’s exactly why men here notice you.’” Lillian shuddered.
“That’s good,” Georgina said.
“Not good,” Lils said.
Georgina stared at her like the words didn’t compute. “Would you really be happy being invisible forever?”
Lillian hesitated, then shrugged.
“She’s right,” Naomi said. “And anyway, why miss out on all the fun?”
Lillian made a face. “Is it fun, though?”
“It is once you understand the rules.” Isabel set her glass down, eyes flicking to Bea. “Ask her.” Her voice was smooth, but there was something razor-sharp beneath it. “Tell me—doesn’t it thrill you? That someone like Gage King doesn’t just want you…he bends for you.”
Bea opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn’t know if Isabel was wrong. Or if it scared her that she might be right.
The conversation cut off sharply when a shadow fell across their table.
She looked up. And froze.
Cassian Montenegro.
She’d seen him once before. Briefly, across a crowded room at Imperium. She hadn’t expected to see him up close.
He was a little older than Gage. His jaw was strong and shadowed with stubble. His hair was a touch long, falling just past his ears and carelessly over his forehead and the black-rimmed glasses he wore. It made him look almost approachable. In his hand was a crystal glass of brown liquid.
But then there were his eyes. Like a coin spun in midair: gleaming, and impossible to read until it landed.
“Georgina.”
“Cassian,” Georgina returned.
His dark brown eyes settled on Bea. Her pulse skipped. “King’s woman.”
Not girlfriend. Not partner. Not even a person.
Possession.
She lifted her chin. “Bea is fine.”
Cassian smiled without teeth. “Of course.”
His gaze swerved past her. Bea felt the shift. Like a predator catching scent. She followed his line of sight. To Lillian. For a moment, he scrutinized her.
Lils, to her credit, didn’t look away. But Bea felt her stop breathing, just for a beat.
Casually, he asked, “Tell me, does he know yet?”
Bea frowned. “Know what?”
“That he’s losing.”
She kept her voice even. “Gage doesn’t lose.”
His smile was slow. “That’s what he wants you to think.”
Beside her, Georgina stiffened.
Cassian indulged in a slow sip. “I was curious to see what kind of woman could keep him on a leash. But that’s not what you are, is it?”
She made sure her breathing was even before she spoke. “No. It isn’t.”
“No, I suppose not.” Cassian’s lips curved, slow and sneering. “King would much prefer a woman who has a knack for staying right where he wants her.”
Like she was some kind of ornament, always within reach, always available. She swallowed, straightening her spine. But before she could think of the perfect retort, he left.
Bea’s heart was still thundering. “What was that?” she seethed.
“A test. To see if you flinch,” Georgina answered.
Bea’s gut twisted.
Isabel smirked. “I mean, as far as power plays go? That was almost sexy.”
Lillian exhaled. “How do you stay off the radar of men like that?”
“You don’t,” Georgina said, unusually mirthless. “You just pray they’re not serious about you.”
“Well, ladies, we survived the smoldering interruption.” Naomi lifted her champagne toward Bea. “Now it’s a party.”
The women clinked their glasses.
And the night went on.