Chapter 12: The Proof of Passion
1295 Words
The pavilion air grew cold, but I barely noticed. Axel’s lips was warm, firm, and real against mine.
This wasn’t the fast, performative peck he had used to blindside Clara upstairs. This kiss was deliberate. It carried an edge of roughness that left my thoughts scattered. Before I could protest, his hand slid up from my waist. His large palm cupped the back of my neck to tilt my head back, deepening the kiss. A soft gasp broke from the back of my throat, a quiet moan that was swallowed by his mouth as his tongue swiped against mine.
I forgot how to breathe. The warmth of his tongue sent a sharp sting straight to my core. I leaned into his solid frame, my fingers bunching into the charcoal wool of his suit jacket just to keep my balance. Axel didn’t give me a breathing space, he ate up my lips roughly and deeply like it was candy, his grip on my waist tightening until I was pressed flush against his chest. For a split second, his untouchable control cracked. His touch became frantic, desperate, as if he were fighting himself just to pull away.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were slick and swollen. He didn't look at my family. He kept his arm placed around my waist, his attention settled on me. His breathing was heavy, a dark intensity lingering in his gaze. He reached up, his fingers slightly trembling as he adjusted his tie, which had pulled loose from his collar.
"Is that sufficient verification for you, Clara?" Axel asked. His voice was quiet, but every person around the fire pit heard it clearly.
A heavy silence descended on the pavilion. Clara stood frozen, her mouth parting as her phone trembled in her hand. Her cheeks turned a furious shade of crimson.
Dominic didn't say a word. He sat in the corner, his knuckles white around his glass of scotch, staring at my lips with a raw, ugly anger. The temporary bruise forming on his jawline from Axel's grip only made him look more unstable.
"An engagement announcement isn't a legal requirement for a ring, Clara," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. I lifted my left hand, letting the emerald-cut diamond catch the mountain sunlight. "Axel doesn't run his personal life through a public relations desk. If you spent less time searching society pages and more time managing your caterers, you wouldn't look so desperate to find a scandal."
My mother let out an anxious cough, adjusting her fur shawl. "Well... it certainly looks real enough to me. Richard, tell them to pour the mimosas. We have a rehearsal timeline to keep."
Richard cleared his throat, nodding to the staff. "Yes. Absolutely. Let's move this inside."
The family began to scatter, the suffocating tension breaking apart into forced small talk. Clara snapped her head away, grabbing Dominic’s arm with a jerk and pulling him toward the main lodge. Dominic didn't look at her; his eyes stayed locked on me until the heavy glass doors slid shut behind them.
The moment we were alone on the terrace, I let out an uneven breath. My balance wavered for a fraction of a second, and Axel immediately tightened his grip on my waist, keeping me upright.
"Easy," he murmured, his face leaning close under the guise of an intimate check-in. "Your vertigo?"
"No," I whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his face. Every trace of emotion had vanished from his features, his expression settling back into cool professionalism. "The performance was great, Axel. Truly. But you can let go of me now. There's no audience."
His fingers lingered on my hip for a beat too long before he dropped his hand. The sudden absence of his heat felt strange, making the mountain breeze twice as sharp.
"We need to stay aligned, Hazel," Axel said, his tone flat. "Dominic still has that proxy contract. He won't stop looking for fractures in our story, especially after I blocked his family's merger this morning. He’s backed into a financial corner."
"I know," I muttered, looking down at the heavy stone balustrade. "But Elena is the one holding the match. She gave me that phone for a reason, Axel. She wanted me to hear how you spoke about my studio."
"And I told you she altered the context," Axel said, taking a step closer, he closed the distance between us. He studied my face, a trace of anxiety returning to his eyes. "Hazel, I bought your debt facility under a private shell company to hide your assets. If Elena's firm had discovered your vulnerability six months ago, they would have stripped your patents before you could even file for bankruptcy."
I looked at him, my chest tightening. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust the boy who used to pull me out of the mud in the third grade, but the billionaire standing in front of me was a master of corporate strategy.
"You should have told me," I whispered. "Our friendship shouldn't require a confidentiality framework."
"If I told you, your pride would have ruined the defense," Axel countered, his voice dropping low. "You would have rejected the capital injection just to prove you didn't need my status. I couldn't risk your survival for the sake of your stubbornness."
Before I could fire back a response, the heavy glass doors slid open again. The estate’s head coordinator stepped out, holding a massive leather binder.
"Ms. Sterling? I am so sorry to interrupt," the coordinator said, looking thoroughly stressed. "The ice sculptures for the main reception just arrived from the carver, but the base anchors are failing. The Westbrook crest is leaning to the left, and if the temperature drops further, the structural integrity will fracture. Ms. Clara told me to just throw a tarp over it, but..."
I closed my eyes, letting out a slow breath.
"Don't touch it with a tarp," I said, years of design experience took over. I stepped past Axel. "A tarp will trap the ambient humidity and accelerate the melting point at the core. What is the current mix ratio on the ballast?"
The coordinator blinked, pulling out his tablet. "It's standard freshwater ice, ma'am. No salinity shift."
"That's the problem," I frowned. "The thermal load from the pavilion spotlights is uneven. Tell the carvers to pack dry ice pellets around the structural pillars and shift the illumination spectrum to a cool daylight ledger. It will lower the surface temperature by four degrees and stabilize the lean without ruining the visual profile."
The coordinator stared at me, his mouth parting in relief. "Wow. Yes. That makes complete sense. I'll get the crew on it right away."
I turned back to Axel, my chin lifted. He was leaning against the stone pillar, his arms crossed over his chest, watching me with a mixture of quiet pride and dark fascination. He didn't say a single word, but the intensity in his gaze made the skin on my neck feel warm.
"See?" I murmured, walking past him toward the entrance. "I can handle a structural failure without your legal team."
"I never doubted your competence, Sterling," Axel said, his long strides easily matching my pace as we entered the grand foyer.
"The rehearsal dinner starts in three hours," he murmured, his hand sliding down to lightly bridge the gap between us, his fingers lingering against my palm. "Tell me you can dance."
I looked up at him, a sudden nervousness overriding my anger. "I can."
A smile broke through his cool composure, softening the hard lines of his face.
"Good," Axel murmured, his fingers tightening around mine. "Because I’m not planning to let you out of my arms tonight."
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