Page 44 of Wicked God
“Patience,” he says, his fingers slipping between mine. “Some things are worth waiting for.”
He stops us in front of a modern building I recognize—one of the newer galleries that opened last season. The windows are covered with elegant drapes, unusual for this time of day. Alex produces a key from his pocket, and my curiosity piques.
“How did you—”
“I may have called in a few favors,” he says, opening the door and ushering me inside. “And Cassandra helped with some connections.”
The gallery space is dimly lit, the space transformed into something intimate and magical by a hundred flickering candles and rose petals scattered across the floor. My footsteps echo softly on the hardwood floor as Alex leads me further inside. At the center of the biggest hall, a table waits, set for two, champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside it.
My breath catches in my throat as I take in the romantic scene before me.
“What is all this?”
“I know everything about us is complicated,” Alex begins. “But I wanted to show you that this isn’t just about appearances or obligations. Not for me.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. “Alex, what are you—”
He closes the space between us. His hands are warm, steady, grounding me even as the world tilts. With a single, fluid motion, he’s on one knee, his eyes locked on mine. My breath falters, my hands trembling in his.
“Olivia Carter,” he says, voice rough and sincere. “You’re the kindest, most genuine person I’ve ever known. You deserve everything—the grand gestures, the quiet moments, all of it. Marry me. Let me learn every part of you. Let me spoil you, treasure you, make you feel safe.”
“I...” The word sticks in my throat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. We had rules, boundaries—a plan. Keep it simple. Keep it safe. Keep it under control. But this is raw, and real, and it terrifies me in a way nothing else ever has.
He opens the box, and the ring inside is breathtaking—a single, perfect diamond, delicate and dazzling, scattering rainbows in the candlelight. It’s beautiful, elegant, and utterly overwhelming.
“Alex,” I whisper, unable to tear my eyes away from the ring. “I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect this.”
He takes the ring from the box, holding it up between us. “You deserve more than a business arrangement. You deserve the full experience. This is not nearly enough, but we don’t have much time. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
His words settle over me, heavy and impossibly sweet. I realize I’m trembling, and I don’t know if it’s fear, or hope, or some impossible mix of both.
But I know, deep down, there’s no going back from this.
Slowly, I extend my left hand. Alex slides the ring onto my finger, and I’m struck by how perfectly it fits.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Only the best for my future wife.”
I can’t stop staring at the ring, at the way it glimmers with every tiny movement of my hand. It feels heavy, not just in weight but in meaning.
He stands, cupping my cheek in his palm. “It suits you,” he says in a low, husky voice. His eyes drop to my lips and then back up to meet mine. “That ring looks like it belongs on your finger. Like it was always meant to be there.”
Before I can overthink it, I lean in, closing the distance. Our lips meet, and it’s like striking a match in a dry forest.
The kiss deepens, and I’m lost in the sensation of him—his hands cupping my face, his fingers threading through my hair,the way his heartbeat thunders against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. His touch is gentle yet demanding, and I respond in kind, my fingers trailing up to tangle in the soft strands of his hair. Every part of me is alive, electric, as if I’ve been waiting for this moment without even realizing it.
When we finally break apart, both of us are breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
“Olivia,” he murmurs, “come stay with me for the rest of the week. Let’s use this time to get to know each other before Friday’s announcement.”
I bite my lip, considering. Part of me wants to say yes, to just give in and see where this goes. But another part—the part that’s been burned before—is screaming at me to be careful.
“At your place?” I repeat, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. “You think that’s a good idea?”
Alex’s eyes darken, his gaze sweeping over me. A slow, wicked grin curls his mouth, making me shiver. “Which part? Spending time together, or the sex?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Or both?”
“Sex will complicate things.”
