Chapter Text
It was another breakfast on the terrace.
Mrs. Pugh had lain out more than they could ever eat, and she looked at the spread with the same mixture of guilt and gratitude that she did every time she sat down to eat.
Annie, of course, had only amplified that–-a tiny, Titian reminder of what the world was outside the gates of Oliver Warbucks’ estate.
It was the first thing she asked, as she sat down. “Did Annie eat already?”
He chuckled, a sound that was both beautiful and bewildering. The way that their lives, the way that her life had changed in the past several weeks was nothing short of stunning, and she was ready to dance with the absolute joy that filled her.
“Yes,” he said, and smiled. “Ate a whole stack of pancakes, and is now with her tutor.”
She nodded and reached for the coffee pot. “Good.”
He stopped her with a quick wave of his hand, and then reached over her. “No,” he insisted, picking the pot up. “Let me.”
He poured like someone familiar with the process, and she was reminded that he’d been a porter in a past life. “Cream, no sugar?” he asked in confirmation.
“That’s right.” She looked up at him with absolute wonder. He’d been paying attention all these years.
He pushed the cup across the table to her. “Grace . . .” He met her eyes with an expression of immense warmth that melted her from the inside out.
“Oliver,” she answered, finding herself absolutely uninterested in the coffee any more. She licked her lips, the taste of him and the kiss they’d shared after she awoke in his bed earlier this morning still lingering.
“You’ve got a full agenda today,” she forced herself to switch to a professional mindset, even as her mind’s eye could only flash back to the night before–the way the hard planes of his body felt against her, the way his fingers kneaded her flesh, the way his lips covered every square inch of her skin.
He nodded. “I'm going to need you to fit something else in.”
“Oh?” Her curiosity was immediately piqued.
He nodded, his eyes piercing hers, and she felt her anticipation rise. “I need you to start looking for your replacement.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir; is there a problem with the job I’m doing?”
“No!” he exclaimed, aghast. “Not at all,” he added a little more quietly and then reached into the inside pocket of his blazer to retrieve a small box. “It’s just . . .” He opened the box to present to her. “I thought maybe you’d be interested in another role.”
She took the box, marveling at it. The ring inside was almost obscenely large–a sapphire flanked by two diamonds–all in what she could only presume was a platinum setting. “Oliver?”
“You and Annie are the two most important things to me,” he said with a sincerity that nearly melted her. “I have her, and I want you, too.”
The ring glistened in the box, and she lifted it out, studying it carefully. It was so much, the weight of it nearly overwhelming, even as the meaning behind it left her ready to take flight.
She continued to hold it as she met his eyes. “You have me.”
“Do I, now?” he asked, rising from the table to come around to her side. He lifted her hand to take the ring from her and then slid it on to her other hand. “Then, Grace,” he said, “please be my wife.”
She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted this until he asked it, but there was no question. She never took this job expecting to fall in love, but when she did, she did so wholly.
“Yes,” she affirmed on a whisper before adding his name. “Oliver . . .”
“Grace,” he replied in kind, standing , reaching down to cup her face in his strong hand. His thumb brushed over her lower lip as he did so. “Any chance you could clear my calendar for the day?”
She shivered at his touch, struggling to find the way to form words, but finally managed. “Of course,” she answered. It was an easy promise to make, there’s no one that wouldn’t be willing to make accommodations for the world’s richest man. “Just give me some time to make a few phone calls.”
He leaned in and kissed her, his teeth scraping against her lower lip. “Don’t take too long. I’ll be in my suite.”
She shivered, knowing exactly what he had in mind. “I won’t.” It was a promise. She reached for his hand using it as leverage to rise from her chair, and then let herself be pulled tight against him, resting almost her entire body against him. “Oliver . . .”
“If you don’t leave now,” he said, making no effort to step away.
“Right . . .” she agreed on a breath
It took everything she had to take a step back from him. “I’ll just go . . . make some calls.” She murmured, stepping away before she lost her resolve. Staying would be so easy. Leaving, however, was what she had to do. Going meant opening the door to her future.
End part 1.