Riding Into Forever

Chapter Two

The car rolled to a stop at the grand JUX estate, where old-world charm met modern excess. Massive iron gates framed the lush gardens, and a red carpet unfurled from the steps, almost like an invitation to a royal affair.

Andrelle stared, wide-eyed, from behind the wheel.

"Is that... a fountain?" she asked, mouth half-open. "In the shape of a freaking lion?"

Juma smirked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Two lions, actually. Welcome to the jungle."

Before she could respond, the front doors burst open. A cluster of people swarmed out — elegantly dressed men and women, photographers flashing cameras, house staff lining up in practiced order. It was a parade.

Juma leaned in quickly. His hand brushed Andrelle’s shoulder, sending a jolt up her spine.

"Just stick close, hold my hand, and smile. Whatever happens, act like you belong here."

"Yeah, no pressure," she muttered under her breath.

Grabbing her bag — and whatever was left of her courage — Andrelle followed him out. The sun hit her full in the face, and for a moment she blinked against the sudden brightness, the chaos.

"There he is!" someone shouted.

"Juma! Over here!"

"Juma, how was Europe?"

"Who's the lady?"

Andrelle didn’t have a chance to respond before Juma reached behind him, threaded his fingers through hers, and tugged her gently toward him.

The world tilted.

Juma's hand was warm, steady. His touch felt strangely natural — dangerous, even. She caught a whiff of his cologne, something clean and expensive that made her knees suspiciously weak.

An older woman — regal, silver-haired, and absolutely intimidating — swept toward them in a cloud of Chanel No. 5. Her pearls gleamed against her tan skin. Her gaze flicked briefly to Andrelle, sharp and assessing.

"And who is this?" she asked, voice crisp.

Juma squeezed Andrelle’s hand lightly, a silent reminder.

"This," he said smoothly, flashing a smile that could probably charm a stone, "is my fiancée."

There was a heartbeat of stunned silence.

The crowd — family, reporters, staff — gasped as if he had just dropped a bombshell.

The woman’s painted eyebrows arched. “Your fiancée?”

"Yes," Juma confirmed without missing a beat. "We wanted to surprise everyone. We met during my final year abroad. It was... unexpected, but when you know, you know."

Andrelle tried to smile. She was pretty sure it came out more like a grimace.

"How... wonderful," the woman said tightly, her eyes flickering between them. She turned to Andrelle, extending a hand. "I’m Clarisse Jux, Juma’s grandmother."

Andrelle shook her hand with what she hoped was the right mix of confidence and deference. Clarisse's handshake was firm — the kind that said I can smell fear and lies, darling.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jux," Andrelle managed.

"Madame Jux," Clarisse corrected smoothly. "You'll get used to it."

Another barrage of questions followed:

"When’s the wedding?"

"Where did you meet?"

"Have you set a date?"

"Is she from a good family?"

Juma answered them all with ease, weaving a tapestry of half-truths:

They met at an academic conference.

Their bond was instant.

Wedding plans were in progress.

Her family was small, private, respectable.

Andrelle mostly nodded, smiled, and clung to Juma’s hand like a lifeline.

Inside the house, the spectacle continued. The estate was even more jaw-dropping up close: marble floors, vaulted ceilings, chandeliers dripping with crystal. It was a palace disguised as a home.

They were ushered into a sun-drenched drawing room, where housekeepers brought champagne and tiny pastries arranged like works of art.

Andrelle perched nervously on the edge of a velvet loveseat, trying not to spill anything on the priceless carpet.

Clarisse settled across from them, steepling her fingers thoughtfully.

"So," she said after a long, assessing pause. "Andrelle, tell me. What is it that you do?"

Panic flashed through Andrelle. She couldn’t exactly say, Oh, you know, drive strangers around for tips and hustle through night classes.

She felt Juma’s thumb brush lightly against her hand again — a small, steadying touch.

Andrelle straightened her shoulders and smiled.

"I'm a student," she said, which was technically true. "Business administration, Luxora University."

Clarisse hummed, unimpressed. "Ambitious. And your family?"

Andrelle swallowed. "Small. Close-knit. My parents own a... small business."

Not a total lie. Her mom ran a modest hair salon back in the suburbs.

Clarisse's gaze sharpened. "Which one?"

Andrelle hesitated. "A boutique salon," she said finally. "Specialized in, uh, organic products."

Clarisse’s smile was thin. "Charming."

Juma leaned forward smoothly, cutting off the interrogation. "We’re just happy to be together, Grandmother. Titles and fortunes aside."

Clarisse didn’t look convinced, but she leaned back, studying Andrelle like one might study an exotic bird: beautiful, but potentially dangerous.

“Well,” she said finally, rising gracefully, "we’ll have to host an engagement party. Formal introductions. You understand."

Andrelle’s stomach dropped. An engagement party? More lies? More scrutiny?

She smiled anyway. “Of course, Madame Jux. I'd be honored."

Clarisse swept out of the room, entourage trailing behind her.

The second she was gone, Andrelle slumped back against the sofa, exhaling loudly.

"An engagement party?" she hissed. "Are you insane?"

Juma grinned, unapologetic. "Would you have preferred an interrogation on the front steps?"

Andrelle shot him a murderous look. "This was supposed to be fifteen minutes!"

He shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Plans change."

"You owe me a serious bonus," she muttered.

"I intend to pay in full," he said, smirking. "Besides, you were incredible. I think Grandmother already hates you slightly less than she hates most people."

"Oh, great. I'm honored."

Juma chuckled, standing and offering his hand. She hesitated for a second, then let him pull her to her feet. His grip was firm but gentle.

Their eyes met.

For a heartbeat, the world narrowed: no marble floors, no glaring chandeliers, no lies or expectations. Just them. Close. Breathing the same air.

Andrelle tore her gaze away first, cheeks flaming.

"This is crazy," she mumbled.

"Maybe," Juma said softly, "but you’re doing amazing, Andrelle."

And for reasons she didn’t dare examine, those simple words made her heart skip.

She was in so much trouble.