Arlo
She’s a vision. My fucking vision.
The love of my life, finally, officially mine. Not only in secret, but in name, in symbol, with my ring glinting on her hand for the whole world to see.
I had the ring made with the largest stone she could wear comfortably. Enough to draw eyes from across any room. Enough to make sure every bastard who so much as looks at her knows, she’s taken.
Her hair falls in soft waves tonight. She usually wears it straight, but now it frames her face like a halo, and I’m done for.
And that white dress… it’s something else. The way it catches the light, the way it hints at the woman I’ll one day see in a wedding gown… fuck.
I know what I’ve done. The damage I caused. The lines I crossed. But none of it changes the truth. I’ll spend the rest of my life earning her forgiveness, begging for it.
Because this… us, it’s inevitable.
As long as I draw breath, she’s mine.
Fuck it, even in death she’ll be mine. If she ever thinks of another man, I’ll hunt him down from hell.
Everyone’s caught in conversation now, my father trading polite remarks with one of her uncles, glasses clinking, the usual empty laughter.
I step closer to Ophelia, my hand resting lightly at the small of her back.
“Come,” I murmur.
She hesitates, but does not resist.
I guide her out of the drawing room and into the corridor. I’ve no real sense of where I’m going, and she knows it, so she takes the lead, moving ahead of me in silence.
She stops outside the library, pushes the door open, and we step inside. The air is thick with the scent of leather and old paper. I close the door behind us, quietly, shutting out the rest of the house.
When she turns to face me, I see that familiar spark, the one that’s always been hers. Her eyes are bright, alive.
Her hands clasp together before her, the movement drawing my gaze to the soft swell of her breasts, and my cock swells in my trousers. I force my eyes back to her face.
“Do you care to explain what’s going on?” she asks, one brow arching.
I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my mouth. “Ma lune,” I murmur, “there’s no other man for you on this planet. And there’s no other woman for me. This was bound to happen, whether your father agreed or not.”
Her expression hardens slightly. “Arlo, I… how did you even convince him? The last thing I remember, I was engaged to that Italian man—”
I close the distance before she can finish. My hand comes to rest around her throat. My voice drops low.
“Do not, ever, mention being engaged to another man,” I say quietly. “Because if you do, I’ll find him and end him. Right now.”
Her breath stutters, a small sound escaping before she catches it. I feel her body tense, the faint shiver she tries to hide.
I lean in until my nose brushes her cheek, then I ease my grip, let my hand fall away, and step back.
“I’ve been planning this from the day I met you.
. that day I realised I would never let you go,” I admit.
“The moment I learned who your father is, and what he’s arranged for you, I started digging.
I needed leverage, information, something I could use against him, something to ensure he understands that he follows my rules now. ”
Her brows knit together, suspicion flickering across her face. “And if you hadn’t found anything to use against him?”
I smirk. “Then I would have made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Money, alliances, partnerships. Whatever it took.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’d have gone to such lengths merely to make me your wife?”
I step closer again, my hand finding her cheek. “I’d have done all that, and far worse,” I say evenly. “You’ve no comprehension of the lengths I’d go to claim what’s mine. To keep you where you belong.”
“Arlo,” she breathes.
I can see the resistance, the flicker of doubt clouding her eyes.
I press a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Don’t.” I murmur. “I know what you’re thinking, and it changes nothing. You’re my fiancée now, and that isn’t up for debate. I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness, but I’ll do it while you wear my ring.”
She shakes her head faintly, a wry smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re impossible.”
“Undeniably,” I murmur.
I press a kiss to her neck. Her breath catches, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. My lips trail along the curve of her throat.
“I missed you,” I whisper against her skin. “I missed you so fucking much.”
She doesn’t answer, but I feel her pulse beneath my lips, racing. Her body moves almost imperceptibly toward mine, instinct winning over reason.
She clears her throat softly. “We should return to the party,” she says quietly. “People will start to wonder where we’ve gone.”
I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes again. “We will,” I say. “But not before you get your present.”
From the inside pocket of my jacket, I take out a small, slender box, engraved with a crescent moon on the lid. I hand it to her.
She hesitates before lifting the lid. Inside, lies a delicate silver key threaded onto a fine chain.
“What is this?” she asks softly, looking up at me.
“The key to our house,” I say simply.
Her eyes widen, and I can’t help but smile at her expression.
“Our house?”
“Indeed.” I reply. “We are expected to live together now, aren’t we?”
She narrows her eyes slightly. “So we’ll live together just for appearances?”
“No,” I answer, my voice certain. “We’ll live together because that’s what we both want.”
“Arlo, it’s too soon…” she murmurs.
“Ophelia.” I reach up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“We don’t have to share a bed or do anything you’re not comfortable with.
” I pause. “I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you to move in with me, but I also won’t give your father the chance to imagine you’re not mine, or that he can marry you off to whoever he sees fit.
So yes, we will live together. We’re engaged, and we will marry.
Even if you never forgive me, so be it. But I’m a greedy man, and I’ll make certain you do.
You’ll crave my touch again, beg for my lips, for what only I can give you. ”
She lets out a breath, still staring at the key. “I can’t believe you gifted me an entire house for Christmas, and I haven’t even given you anything.”
I smile faintly, leaning closer. “But you have.”
Her brows knit together. “What?”
“You,” I say simply. “You’re all I ever wanted, you’re all I’ll ever need.”