Chapter 7
1499 Words
“Move in with me,” he said softly. “As my wife this time.”
Lina let out a shaky breath. “You really don’t do halfway, do you?”
He smiled. “Not when it comes to you.”
She leaned into him, the night folding gently around them.
“I guess I’m Mrs. Blake now.”
“You always were,” he murmured. “You just forgot.”
In that moment, as the night embraced them and the city whispered promises of new beginnings, Lina and Dylan made a silent pact. They would take things one day at a time, one step at a time. The reunion had been painful, but it was also a rebirth a chance to heal, to grow, and to rediscover the love that had once burned so brightly.
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the promise of tomorrow filled the air with hope. Their reunion had not erased the past, but it had illuminated a path forward a path that, though winding and uncertain, held the possibility of redemption and, perhaps one day, true happiness.
The Next Morning…
Jane nearly dropped the cocktail shaker when Lina walked into the bar wearing a soft white blouse that looked suspiciously bridal and a glow that screamed something happened.
Jane narrowed her eyes like a hawk. “Why do you look like you just walked out of a romantic drama and into a rom-com sequel?”
Lina bit her lip, trying and failing to hold back a smile.
“Oh no.” Jane pointed a manicured finger at her. “Don’t you dare—don’t you dare tell me you eloped with tall, brooding, manor-owning Dylan Blackwood without even a text! Not even a dramatic ‘I’m about to make a mistake, pray for me’ heads-up?”
Lina giggled. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
Jane squinted. “Okay, wait. This isn’t funny anymore. Are you messing with me right now?”
Lina held up her hand.
The ring glinted in the bar’s golden light.
Jane gasped then screamed.
A couple of customers looked over in alarm as she banged her palm on the counter. “YOU GOT MARRIED?! Are you insane or just tragically in love?! Actually, don’t answer that—you’re both!”
“I know it was sudden,” Lina laughed, cheeks flushed. “But it felt right. It was just us, no drama, no pressure”
“No bridesmaids? No flower girls? Not even a drunk uncle dancing to slow jazz? You robbed me of chaos, woman!”
Lina snorted. “We wanted it quiet.”
Jane leaned forward dramatically. “Did he at least cry at the altar? I need to live through you now.”
Lina smiled softly. “He did. Just a little. And I think I did too.”
Jane clutched her heart. “I hate how beautiful that sounds. I love you. But I hate you.”
They both burst into laughter, and as Jane poured her a celebratory shot, she added, “Fine. You get one sudden marriage pass. But next time you decide to surprise me, at least let me plan the after-party.”
Later That Week – Dylan’s Manor
Lina stepped out of the car and stared.
The Blake Manor wasn’t just a house. It was a statement. A long, winding driveway led to a massive, ivy-draped stone estate with towering arched windows, glass balconies, and French-style terraces that overlooked a private lake in the distance. Ornamental lights traced the pathways like stardust, and at the entrance stood a set of carved mahogany doors that looked like they belonged in an art museum.
“I forgot how rich you are,” Lina whispered.
Dylan chuckled beside her. “It was just a house. But now, it’s our home.”
Inside, the air was scented with lavender and sandalwood. Chandeliers hung like constellations from the ceilings. The floors were a mix of polished marble and dark wood, with plush rugs that muffled every step. Art, actual art lined the walls. Everything from moody oil paintings to modern abstracts.
But it wasn’t until Dylan led her up the grand staircase and opened the door to a room on the left that her breath caught in her throat.
“This…” he said, “is your room.”
The space looked like it had been lifted out of her dreams. The walls were painted in a soft dusty rose her favorite, calming shade. Gold accents shimmered in the furniture, from the elegant vanity to the vintage light fixtures. A plush velvet chaise lounge sat by the tall windows, which opened out onto a private balcony overlooking a blooming garden. Soft cream curtains floated in the breeze, and a massive bed sat in the center, draped in satin sheets and silk pillows.
The closet? A walk-in haven filled with shelves, lighting, and mirrored panels.
The bookshelf? Stocked with her favorite novels and a few new titles Dylan guessed she’d love.
Even the bathroom felt like a spa white marble, gold trim, a sunken tub with rose petals floating inside, and candles already arranged.
“I didn’t want to rush you,” Dylan said quietly behind her. “I know you’re still healing… so I wanted you to have your own space. I gave the designer your preferences. Colors. Textures. Even the scent you wear.”
Lina turned, speechless.
He stepped closer. “Your room is right next to mine. No pressure. No expectations. Just… you and me. Relearning each other. Rebuilding.”
She threw her arms around him.
“I don’t deserve this,” she whispered.
He held her tightly. “You deserve more than I can ever give. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”
Later That Afternoon – The Garden Terrace
The sun filtered softly through the glass roof of the manor’s conservatory, casting golden beams over the lunch table set under the bloom of hanging orchids. Lina was still adjusting to the luxury, the quiet elegance, the way even the plates looked like they had personalities.
Dylan, however, looked effortlessly at home, swirling a glass of iced wine as he glanced toward the front gates.
“Old friend,” he said casually as the sound of a car engine approached.
A sleek silver sports car purred to a stop, and out stepped a sharply dressed man with dark shades, a mischievous grin, and the swagger of someone who never had to ask twice for anything.
“Tariq,” Dylan greeted.
“Mr. Blake,” Tariq said, dragging out the name dramatically as he pulled Dylan into a firm hug. “You’ve been dodging me. What did you go off and buy an island or something?”
Lina stood up politely, but Dylan reached for her hand, pulling her gently toward him.
“No,” Dylan said with a smirk, “I got married.”
Tariq froze.
“I’m sorry—what?”
“Yesterday. Private chapel. Just the two of us.”
Tariq ripped off his shades. “You actually did it? You married her without telling anyone? Bro, your mom is going to set the world on fire.”
Dylan sighed, pouring his friend a drink. “She’ll find out when it’s time. Right now, I just want peace.”
“You mean chaos disguised as peace,” Tariq muttered, eyeing Lina with curiosity but respect. “So, you’re the woman who finally tied down the infamous Dylan Blake.”
Lina chuckled. “Not sure about tied down. He kind of ran straight into it.”
Tariq grinned. “I like her. But you, man?” He turned to Dylan. “You really didn’t think of giving your parents a heads-up? Especially your mother? That woman would interrogate Lucifer if she thought he was stealing her son.”
“She had her chance to approve or disapprove years ago,” Dylan said evenly. “I’m not doing this for her. Or for the Blackwood legacy.”
“Speaking of,” Tariq said, shifting topics, “the new flagship showroom’s opening next month. Word is the main chandelier was imported from Venice. You involved?”
Dylan nodded. “Blackwood Enterprises is handling the internal ornamentation design—like usual. But we’re letting our subsidiary firm handle construction supervision.”
Lina tilted her head. “Blackwood… that’s your family business?”
“One of many,” Dylan said with a half-smile. “Jewels and ornamentations. Luxury metals. High-end interiors. They’ve got roots in old money. Construction, aviation, tech—they’ve expanded into almost everything.”
“And your role?” she asked.
Dylan shrugged. “They want me to take over everything. I just want to breathe.”
Tariq laughed. “Which is why you’re about to be haunted by five missed calls and a letter from your mother written entirely in passive-aggressive Latin.”
Dylan raised his glass. “Let her. I’ve made my choice.”
- Writer
