Chapter 25
The November air carried a distinct chill as he surveyed the property from the dock of his lake house.
Workers moved efficiently across the lawn, setting up the heated tent, arranging fire pits, installing heat lamps along the pathways.
The forecast promised clear skies but temperatures dropping into the low forties by evening.
Behind him, the sound of car doors slamming announced Knox and Gabriel’s arrival.
“Are you planning to help at all?” Knox called from the porch, a case of champagne balanced in his arms. “Or is manual labor beneath the great Ronan Wilder?”
He turned. “I’m making sure everything’s set up correctly.”
“It’s a party to celebrate the Beauchamp deal,” Gabriel said, crossing the lawn. “Not a state dinner. I think we can manage without your micromanagement.”
“The first milestone deserves proper recognition,” he replied, climbing the steps to join them. “The Beauchamps took a significant risk trusting us. This is the least I can do.”
Knox set down the case with a satisfied grin. “A weekend at the lake house, open bar, and you’re actually hosting instead of hiding in your office. Who are you and what have you done with Ronan Wilder?”
He ignored the jab. Three months ago, he would have delegated this entire event. But things had changed. He had changed.
“Where do you want the champagne?” Knox asked.
“Under the tent. There’s a table set up near the bar.”
Gabriel studied him. “You’re unusually invested in this party.”
“It’s a significant milestone,” he said evenly. “The Beauchamps deserve recognition for their trust in Oath Capital.”
“And it has nothing to do with impressing a certain someone?” Knox asked.
“Devney will be here, yes. The Beauchamps are bringing her.”
“How convenient,” Gabriel said dryly.
He ignored the implication, checking his watch. Five o’clock. The staff would start arriving at five-thirty, the Beauchamps at six. Everything was on schedule.
Inside, they gathered in the great room, its wall of windows overlooking the lake. Knox popped open a bottle of champagne and poured three glasses.
“To the Beauchamp deal,” Knox said, raising his glass. “And to Devney Sinclair, who managed the impossible.”
“What’s that?” Ronan accepted the glass.
“Making you tolerable to be around.” Knox grinned. “You’ve been almost human lately. It’s disturbing.”
Gabriel raised his own glass. “To efficiency. And to whatever has you checking your phone every thirty seconds.”
The three men clinked glasses. The champagne was bright and crisp against the afternoon chill.
“I don’t want to miss a text from Devney,” he admitted, checking his phone again.
“The office gossip mill has been in overdrive since you two went public,” Knox said, sprawling in an armchair. “Martha’s Vineyard changed you.”
“I’m still focused on the business,” he said.
“You bought her sunflowers,” Gabriel pointed out. “You, who once called them ‘chaotic and impractical.’”
“She likes them.”
“Exactly.” Gabriel’s expression was unreadable. “You’ve changed.”
The words struck deeper than intended. He’d spent months trying to prove he was different from the man who’d proposed a fake engagement—trying to show Devney through actions rather than words that his feelings were genuine.
“The Beauchamps will be here at six,” he said, deflecting. “I should check on the catering.”
“Running away from feelings?” Knox called after him. “That’s the old Ronan. I thought we’d evolved past that.”
He didn’t respond, stepping out onto the porch where the workers were putting finishing touches on the tent. The heaters glowed with warmth, the fire pits were arranged in a perfect semicircle, and the bar gleamed with bottles and glassware.
His phone buzzed.
DEVNEY: Looking forward to tonight. The Beauchamps are bringing me with them. They said they want my opinion on something. See you there!
He smiled despite himself and typed back.
RONAN: Perfect. Dress warmly. It will be cold.
DEVNEY: Always so practical. See you soon. Love you.
RONAN: Love you too.
He pocketed the phone and returned inside, where Knox and Gabriel were arguing about the optimal placement of heat lamps.
“You’re overthinking it,” Knox said.
“I’m thinking about it the correct amount,” Gabriel countered. “Unlike some people who just throw money at problems and hope they resolve themselves.”
“That’s rich coming from you—”
“The heat lamps are fine,” Ronan interrupted. “Focus on making sure the sound system works. I don’t want anyone freezing in silence.”
The afternoon progressed with increasing speed. The catering staff arrived and began setting up the bar and food stations. At five-thirty, the charter bus from Oath Capital pulled up, and employees began filing out, their faces bright with anticipation.
He greeted them from the porch, accepting thanks and congratulations on the Beauchamp deal.
Within minutes, the party was in full swing. Laughter and conversation filled the heated tent, fire pits crackled invitingly, and the November sky deepened to twilight.
He positioned himself near the entrance, checking his watch. 5:55.
Lucy arrived, making her way to the dessert display she’d provided. She caught his eye and smiled.
Just before six, headlights appeared at the top of the driveway.
His heart rate increased. Devney was here.
The car doors opened. Eleanor emerged first, elegant in a long coat. Then Andrew, offering his hand to Devney in the backseat.
And then she stepped out.
She wore a deep blue dress with a cream-colored cardigan, a cashmere scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her hair tumbling around her shoulders in soft waves.
She looked toward the tent, confusion crossing her face as she took in the crowd, the lights, the celebration.
Then her eyes found his.
For one suspended moment, everything else fell away—the noise of the party, the cold November air, the sixty people watching. There was only her.
Beautiful.
She started toward the tent, and he moved to meet her.
Showtime.