Page 39 of Christmas With A Billionaire

“You know what I remember most about this place?” Tyson smiled at Rose. “The day I brought Autumn here for the first time. I was covered in paint because this one,” he squeezed my hand, “knocked over an entire set of acrylics in art class. Grandma took one look at her and said we finally had someone else in the family who understood art.”

“And I meant it,” Rose added softly. “She fit right in.”

“That’s the thing about you, Autumn.” Tyson turned to face me fully. “You didn’t just become part of my family - you became my heart. Every Sunday dinner, every late-night conversation, every dream we built together brought us to this moment.”

He reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee. The room collectively gasped.

“Autumn Williams, you’ve been my best friend, inspiration, and heart. You taught me that true beauty is in how you fight for young artists, how you light up when describing a new piece, and how you’ve loved me even when I was too scared to love you back.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as he opened a black velvet box. Inside, a ring that caught the Christmas lights was nestled—rose gold with a black diamond surrounded by smaller white stones.

“I don’t want to spend another day pretending you’re just my friend or business partner. I want forever with you. Will you marry me?”

I fell into his arms, and he caught me with ease. Nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck, emotions dripped from my eyes, and I was overcome with unimaginable love.

“Is that a, yes?” he whispered, drawing a few chuckles from our family.

I nodded frantically. “Yes!” The word came out on a sob. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He slipped the ring onto my finger, pulling me into a heated kiss and setting my soul on fire. The room erupted in cheers and applause. Rose sobbed into her apron while Diana hugged James, both of them beaming.

“Finally!” LaMont shouted over the chaos. “Now I can stop watching him pine over you.”

Laughter cruised around, but the only thing I could focus on was the man who gripped me in an embrace so tight that I never wanted to be let go.

“I have one more thing,” he whispered, producing another box, this one huge and square.

“I can’t take anymore,” I cried.

“I’ll take it!” Aunt Marie shouted. “Whatever it is!”

Tyson chuckled and opened the box. The sparkle that gleamed across my eyes nearly blinded me.

“Tyson!”

The necklace was diamond studded and was so exquisite I knew it came off the museum floor.

“I love you,” he said.

And I fell back into his arms and wept.

Six Months Later

The Autumn Williams Gallerybuzzed with energy as another class of young artists prepared for their first showing. Denise Jordan, now our lead instructor, helped a teenage girl adjust herpainting while Anthony – our youngest teacher – demonstrated brush techniques to a group of wide-eyed kids.

The program had exploded since Christmas. What started as a small community initiative had spread across Chicago. Three more teaching spaces had opened in different neighborhoods. The Benefield hotels now featured rotating exhibits from our students, many of whom had gone on to sell their work to serious collectors.

“Ready for the next batch?” Tyson’s voice carried across the gallery. He’d just finished installing track lighting for our newest exhibition space.

I crossed to him, admiring how his t-shirt stretched across his shoulders. Just looking at him made my pulse race. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Good.” He pulled me close, kissing me soundly. “Because I have plans for this place. Big plans.”

“Tell me.”

“First, we expand the scholarship program. Then, we open a residency for international artists. After that...” He gestured expansively. “The world.”

I laughed against his chest. “Dream big, Mr. Benefield.”

“I learned from the best, Mrs. Benefield-to-be.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” He lifted my chin, our mouths crushing in a mouthwatering kiss.

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