Chapter 15 #3
I study his face, catching something in his expression that I can't quite name. Anticipation, maybe. Nervousness, which is absurd because Thrall is never nervous.
"Okay," I agree slowly. "Where?"
"I'll find you."
Then he releases my hand and strides back into the reception, and I'm left standing there wondering what exactly he's planning.
The evening gala is perfect.
The ballroom is transformed, all soft amber lighting and elegant centerpieces and a live jazz quartet playing sophisticated background music. The catering staff moves through the crowd with practiced efficiency, the bar never runs dry, and the networking is flowing smoothly.
I stand near the back of the room, tablet in hand, monitoring everything with the same focused intensity I bring to every event. Kiera appears periodically with updates, but there are no emergencies, no disasters, no last-minute catastrophes.
Everything is running exactly as planned.
Which means I should feel satisfied. Accomplished. Proud.
Instead, I feel restless.
I scan the room, searching for Thrall without consciously meaning to.
He's near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by a cluster of investors and executives, looking devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit.
He's laughing at something one of them said, but even from across the room, I can see the way his eyes keep flicking toward me.
Checking. Confirming. Grounding.
My heart does something ridiculous and affectionate .
"Ms. Lin?" Kiera appears beside me, looking slightly concerned. "You've been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine." I refocus on my tablet. "Just making sure everything stays on track."
"Everything is perfect. You know it is." She hesitates, then adds gently, "You could actually enjoy the event, you know. You earned it."
I glance at her, startled. "I'm working."
"You're always working. But sometimes it's okay to step back and appreciate what you built." She gestures toward the ballroom. "This is incredible, Romee. You should be proud."
I am proud. But there's something about letting go, about stepping back from the control, that still feels dangerous. Like if I stop monitoring every detail, everything will fall apart.
"I'll relax when it's over," I tell her.
She sighs but doesn't push. "Mr. Orkenshade is looking for you, by the way. He asked me to tell you to meet him in the east alcove off the main ballroom when you have a moment."
My pulse kicks up. "When did he ask you this?"
"About ten minutes ago. He seemed..." She pauses, searching for the right word. "Intent."
Intent. That's one way to describe Thrall when he's focused on something.
I glance at my tablet one more time, confirming that everything is stable, then hand it to Kiera.
"You have the floor. If anything goes sideways—"
"I'll text you immediately. I know." She takes the tablet with an amused smile. "Go. He's waiting."
I navigate through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces and side-stepping conversations with practiced efficiency. The east alcove is one of the quieter spaces in the ballroom, tucked away from the main flow of traffic and designed for more private conversations.
Thrall is already there, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, looking unexpectedly nervous.
Which is impossible. Thrall doesn't do nervous.
"You asked for me?" I step into the alcove, and he immediately straightens, his entire focus zeroing in on me with that intensity that still makes my breath catch.
"I did." He reaches out, catching my hand and tugging me deeper into the shadowed space, away from the ambient noise of the gala. "How's the event?"
"Perfect. Flawless. Exactly as planned."
"Of course it is. You planned it." His thumb traces the inside of my wrist, that familiar, grounding gesture that he's made a habit of. "You look beautiful, by the way. I meant to tell you earlier, but you were too busy being terrifyingly competent."
I glance down at my grey suit, suddenly self-conscious. "It's just professional attire."
"It's devastating." His voice drops, rough and sincere. "You're devastating. Do you have any idea what it does to me, watching you command an entire ballroom of people who would follow your orders without question?"
"Thrall." My face heats. "We're in public."
"We're in a private alcove. And I'm allowed to appreciate my partner." He steps closer, crowding me back against the wall in a way that's becoming deliciously familiar. "Especially when she's just pulled off the most successful corporate event of the year."
"The year's not over yet."
"It is for Horde Tech. This is our flagship event, and you made it perfect." His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, tilting my face toward his. "Thank you."
My throat tightens. "You don't have to thank me. You hired me. I did my job."
"You did more than your job. You built something extraordinary." His thumb brushes across my cheekbone, gentle and possessive. "And I need to ask you something."
My heart kicks against my ribs. "Okay."
He holds my gaze for a long moment, amber eyes searching mine and makes me feel seen in a way that's both thrilling and terrifying. Then, slowly, deliberately, he releases my hand and drops to one knee.
I stop breathing.
"Thrall, what are you—"
"Let me finish," he interrupts gently, reaching into his jacket pocket. But instead of pulling out a ring box, he withdraws something larger, rectangular, wrapped in sleek black paper.
I peer at it, my brain struggling to process what's happening.
He unwraps it carefully, and I see it in complete, stunned silence as he reveals a clipboard.
But not just any clipboard.
It's solid gold, engraved with intricate, elegant patterns along the edges. My name, Romee Lin, CEO, is etched across the top in flowing script. And embedded along the clip itself, catching the dim light of the alcove, are perfectly cut diamonds.
I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't do anything except stare at the most absurd, extravagant, perfectly Thrall thing I've ever seen.
"I know this isn't traditional," he says, his voice rough and sincere and impossibly vulnerable. "But you're not traditional. And I'm not interested in doing things the way everyone else does them."
"Thrall—"
"I'm not finished." He looks up at me, still on one knee, holding that ridiculous, beautiful clipboard like it's the most precious thing in the world.
"You walked into my life with a color-coded itinerary and an airhorn, and you've been bossing me around ever since.
And I love it. I love you. I love the way you demand excellence from everyone around you.
I love the way you refuse to settle for anything less than perfect.
I love the way you look at me like I'm both the most infuriating and the most important person in your world. "
My vision blurs.
"I want you to boss me around for the rest of our lives, Romee.
I want to watch you build your empire and stand beside you while you do it.
I want to wake up every morning to you organizing our schedule and fall asleep every night to you planning tomorrow's agenda. I want everything. With you. Forever."
He holds up the clipboard, and I can see his hands trembling slightly.
"So I'm asking you, CEO Lin, if you'll marry this overbearing, high-handed Orc who is completely and irrevocably wrapped around your finger."
I acknowledge him, at this massive, intimidating man kneeling in front of me holding a diamond-studded clipboard, and something breaks open .
"You're proposing with office supplies," I manage, my voice cracking.
"I'm proposing with your office supplies. There's a difference."
A laugh bubbles out of me, half-hysterical, completely overwhelmed. "This is the most ridiculous thing you've ever done."
"Is that a yes?"
I drop to my knees in front of him, framing his face with both hands, feeling the rough texture of his skin against my palms.
"Yes," I whisper. "Yes, you impossible, overbearing, perfect man. Yes."
His entire expression transforms, relief and joy and something fierce and possessive flooding his features. He sets the clipboard carefully aside and pulls me into his arms, kissing me with a thoroughness that makes my toes curl in my sensible heels.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathless and trembling, he rests his forehead against mine with surprising tenderness. The gesture is almost gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.
"I love you, my terrifying, brilliant, perfect mate. Every sharp word you've ever wielded like a weapon. Every moment of exasperation. All of it. You."
"I love you too." I kiss him again, softer this time, slower, a kiss that tastes like promises and forever. "Even though you just proposed to me during the professional event. Do you have any concept of how unprofessional this is?"
"You love that I proposed to you during the professional event," he counters, and there's that dark, amused drawl he reserves exclusively for me, the one that makes me want to throttle him and kiss him simultaneously.
He's right. I absolutely do.
I pull back slightly, my hands reaching for the ridiculous, extravagant clipboard he'd set aside moments ago. Running my fingers over the engraved surface, our initials intertwined with delicate precision, I shake my head in disbelief.
"This is completely impractical for actual use," I inform him, my voice taking on that sharp, professional edge even as my hands betray my tenderness with the object.
"The diamond inlay will catch on everything.
The weight distribution is all wrong. And the aesthetic clash between functionality and luxury is absolutely—"
"I know," he interrupts, watching me with those striking amber eyes that seem to drink in every detail of my reaction.
"And it's absurdly over-the-top. Ostentatious. The kind of thing that screams 'look at me, I have money and questionable taste.'"
"I know," he repeats, his grin widening—devastating and unapologetic.
"And I love it more than anything I've ever owned in my entire life," I admit, unable to stop myself from smiling back at him. "Which means you've officially ruined all future gifts by setting an impossible standard."
His grin becomes even more pronounced. "I know."
I kiss him again, letting myself sink into the moment, into the overwhelming reality that this massive, impossible Orc just asked me to spend the rest of my life with him.
And I said yes.
When we finally emerge from the alcove, hand in hand, the gala is still in full swing. No one seems to have noticed our absence, too absorbed in networking and champagne and the flawless execution of the event.
Kiera spots us immediately, her eyes widening as she takes in our joined hands and my slightly disheveled hair.
"Everything okay?" she asks carefully.
"Everything's perfect," I tell her, unable to stop smiling. "Absolutely perfect."
Thrall squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back, feeling the solid weight of his presence beside me.
My partner. My equal. My future.
And somewhere in my other hand, carefully tucked against my side, a diamond-studded clipboard catches the light.