I pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, not wanting to muss her makeup. Aya had different ideas and turned her head, letting her tongue drift over the seam of my lips. I growled and enjoyed the much deeper hello. Unfortunately, it did little to calm me down.
“Madam CEO. It’s a pleasure to meet with you today,” I said when I pulled back. I brushed a stray lock of long hair off her temple. It settled against her chest, teasing me as it dipped, danced, and finally nestled in her cleavage. “You look gorgeous,” I added. “And professional. And like you just rocked the hell out of this grand opening.”
Her grin widened. “I sure did. The system is working perfectly.” She beamed. “And the people in Sudan asked if we could open any sooner.”
“You’re a rock star, pretty girl.”
She winked. “I am when I spend your money, Nash Porter.”
“Speaking of spending money…” I said. Those damn nerves shot back through me. Though, the muggy heat might explain some of my sweaty nerves. “How about I buy you a nice dinner?”
“Mmm… If you want to, but I’d be happy heading back to the hotel and ordering room service.”
“Definitely dinner,” I said. It was part of my epic proposal plan.
I opened the back door to the Rover. Once we were buckled, I shifted one of the AC vents more fully onto me. Thankfully, Aya was distracted by kicking off her heels. She wiggled her toes and turned to enjoy the view.
“It’s so pretty,” she murmured.
“You’re the best-looking view I’ve ever seen.”
After a few minutes, the driver slid to a stop at an airfield.
Aya frowned. “What’s going on?”
My heart pounded and my tongue felt tied. “Uhh… we’re so close to Turks and Caicos; I wanted to take you there tonight.” Without waiting for a response, I hopped out.
Then I leaned back in, waiting until Aya slid her feet back into her shoes. I took her hand, helping her out, and led her to the waiting jet. We boarded, and she remained quiet. I became more and more concerned until I realized she’d fallen asleep.
These past months had been a blur for her. Between coming to as many of Oblivion’s concerts as possible and the work of getting the organization reorganized for desalination projects, which required frequent trips back to London to work with the staff who’d chosen to remain, Aya had been too busy to sleep properly.
I planned to rectify that, and soon.
As we descended toward the airport, and I woke Aya, she oohed and aahed over the view, and once we landed, I led her to the waiting limo. We rode in silence, her body pressed tight to mine even as her head turned toward the window, still taking in the view. I laid my hand on her thigh, above her knee, and squeezed. She settled back tighter against me, and I enjoyed the peace of the moment.
We needed more of this.
The car turned toward the water, and her eyebrows rose as she took in the broad expanse of crystal-clear water and soft, white sand.
“Nash, this is where we met.”
I nodded. “It is. I rented out the beach.”
She frowned a little but then noted the large, white tent waiting for us. “A picnic?” she asked, excitement tinting her voice.
“Of a sort.”
“Oh, I adore picnics.”
I smiled as I led her to the pavilion. The front flap’s airy gauze drapes were tied back to give us a view of the water while the other three sides were enclosed—my effort at privacy. A large, thick wool rug covered the sand inside, its swirls of blues, whites, and greens mimicking the waves that crashed in a muted symphony in front of us. A round table with plush chairs graced the middle of the carpet. The white tablecloth gleamed with the faint, rich hues of long, golden rays as the sun settled low on the horizon, flickering shadows over the silver candelabra and crystal vase of local, native flowers in soft pinks and reds—Aya’s favorite colors. Silver chargers rested on the table, waiting for our plates, and a tall champagne bucket housed a bottle of expensive sparkling water.
Aya stopped, a faint gasp passing her lips. She turned toward me, eyes wide with amazement. “What’s all this?” she murmured.
“Surprise.” I offered a one-armed jazz hand. I tucked it back down quickly when I noted it shaking. “I wanted to make sure we commemorated your first project.”
Her smile warmed and calmed me, and I squeezed her fingers as I raised the back of her hand to my lips.
“Come, sit. Enjoy getting off your tired feet.”
I settled her into her chair before rounding toward mine. I patted my pants pocket, ensuring the small box was still there. I unbuttoned my suit coat and settled into the chair.
“I’m starving,” Aya moaned. “What are we having?”
“Whatever you like. Want some water?”
She pushed the water goblet toward me, and I filled it to the brim. She took a long, deep drink and smiled. “I needed that. Thanks.”
Over the past eight months, with Jordan’s help, I’d regained a firm grip on my sobriety, in part because of Aya’s unfailing support. This time, I intended to keep it.
Last month, Hugh had asked me if Aya was my reason to be sober. I’d told him I was my reason—so I could be the best possible version of myself. And hopefully, the one Aya deserved.
“The chef has a tasting menu, but he also has full access to the villa behind us, which is where we’re staying tonight. My understanding is that you can pretty much have anything.”
She clasped her hands, eyes shining. “I love the idea of a tasting menu.”
“I love how excited you are.”
Her eyes softened. “I love you. Thank you for going to all this trouble, Nash. It’s so beautiful. I mean…goodness, look at this.”
I settled my hand in my pocket. Now. This was the moment. I clutched the box. Aya had turned back to face the sea, giving me her profile. I wanted this snapshot in my mind and soul forever.
I clicked open the box lid. The tiny sound seemed to reverberate through my hand and straight into my heart.
“Aya? Love?”
She turned. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes flew wide. “What?”
I sank to my knees in front of her. Not one knee—this woman owned me, and I was proud to let her and the world know it.
“Well, see, I bought you this ring.”
I plucked it from its white satin bed, enjoying the sparkle of the large, round central stone. The band was platinum, the right side smooth. The left side held a channel of baguette diamonds that circled the main diamond before slithering back to the smooth platinum. I loved the intertwined-ness of the ring. In many ways its infinity-like symbol was a second promise—that I’d love her forever.
She placed her fingertips to her lips, the short, pink-polished nails gleaming in the candlelight.
“I thought it would look spectacular on you.”
I held it a little closer. Her gaze followed.
“I want it there, on that left ring finger, to tell the world you’re mine. To let everyone know you have my loyalty, my future, my heart—my sober-ass soul.”
Her eyes begged me to continue. I cleared my throat. “I bought the matching wedding band…” My voice cracked. Fuck. Shit. Hell. My fingers shook. She steadied my hand in both of hers. I was able to breathe again. This is what we did for each other.