Page 74 of Forbidden Fruit

Her eyes shine with emotion. "Clive..."

"I love you, Becca," I say, the words coming easily now after months of holding them back. "I should have told you sooner, but I wanted to be sure we were ready for this. For everything that comes with it."

"I love you too," she says, squeezing my hand. Her eyes glisten in the candlelight. "I think I have for a long time, even when I shouldn't have."

The waiter approaches with the champagne I pre-ordered, pouring two flutes with practiced precision. When he retreats, I raise my glass.

"To new beginnings," I say.

She clinks her glass against mine. "To us."

As we sip, I notice two society matrons at a nearby table whispering behind their menus, eyes darting our way. Becca follows my gaze and tenses slightly.

"That's Margot Whitley," she murmurs. "She's on three charity boards with Kay."

"Let her report back," I say, setting down my glass. "I'm not hiding you like some shameful secret."

Dinner proceeds with exquisite food and easy conversation. Becca tells me about the Hudson wedding—apparently, the bride wants doves released indoors—and I share the less classified details of the Westbridge acquisition. It feels normal and comfortable as if we've been doing this for years instead of having our first public outing.

By dessert, the initial wave of stares has subsided. Becca relaxes visibly, laughing as she steals a bite of my chocolate soufflé.

"This is nice," she says. "Being out together. Not worrying about who might see us."

"It's how it should be." I catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I want everyone to know you're with me."

Her cheeks flush beautifully. "Even if it complicates things?"

"Especially then," I lean forward. Becca, I've spent most of my life making the safe choice—the practical business decision. With you, I'm choosing happiness, complications, and all."

Her smile could light the entire restaurant. "When did you become such a romantic?"

"When I met you." I signal for the check. "Now, shall we give them something else to talk about?"

Her eyebrow arches. "What did you have in mind?"

"A walk through Central Park? Very scandalous."

She laughs, the sound drawing more curious glances. "You're ridiculous."

"Only about you."

Outside, the May evening is warm with a gentle breeze. I dismiss my driver, and we stroll toward the park, her hand tucked into the crook of my arm. Streetlights cast a golden glow on the path as we enter 59th Street.

"I feel like I should be nervous," Becca says as we walk. "About the gossip, Jack's reaction, everything changing so fast. But I'm not."

"No?"

She shakes her head, dark hair catching the light. "I'm certain about us."

I stop walking, turn to face Becca, and cup her face in my hands, struck again by how perfectly she fits against me despite our height difference.

"I've never been more certain of anything," I tell her. "Or anyone."

When I kiss her, I don't care who sees. Let the whole city witness it. Let Jack hear about it from every mutual acquaintance. Let Kay's society friends report back with scandalized whispers. None of it matters.

Becca pulls back slightly, her brown eyes searching mine. "What happens now?"

"Now we live our lives. Together. No more hiding." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I deal with whatever tantrum Jack throws next."

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