Page 76 of His To Unravel
The sound of footsteps pulls my attention to the entrance. I turn just as she steps into view, and for a moment, the world tilts.
She’s breathtaking.
The soft lighting casts a glow over her, catching the sweep of her dress, the elegant curve of her waist and hips, the soft part of her lips as she takes in the space with wide eyes filled with wonder.
She’s a masterpiece among masterpieces.
“Olivia,” I say, stepping toward her, watching her expression shift as she notices me. Surprise, delight, and then something softer. She smiles, and I feel it in my chest—a direct hit.
I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles before leaning in to press another tender kiss to the corner of her mouth. Her breath hitches. Mine does too.
“Nate,” she breathes, her voice tinged with awe. “You… This is…” Her words trail off as she glances around again, drinking in the details.
“For us,” I say simply, reaching for her hand and lacing my fingers through hers. “I thought we could use a little escape from finals. Somewhere quiet, beautiful…something worthy of you.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks down, her modesty always managing to disarm me.
“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” she murmurs, but her eyes sparkle with appreciation.
“Oh, but I did,” I say, leading her further into the gallery. “I’ve never been one for half-measures, especially not with you.”
We wander slowly through the museum, the silence between us companionable as her gaze flits from one piece to the next.
I keep my hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently, savoring every glance she steals at me.
When we reach the center of the courtyard, I stop, tugging her gently to a halt. She looks up at me, her brow furrowing slightly in question.
From my coat pocket, I pull out a neatly folded piece of paper. It’s clean, deliberate and entirely unnecessary, but I wanted to include a touch of theatrics that I hope will put a smile on her face.
“I have a proposal,” I say lightly as she eyes it with wary amusement.
Her eyes widen just slightly, a flicker of something—anticipation, maybe…hope?—before she masks it. It punches through me with unexpected force.
“Not that kind of proposal,” I add quickly, though my lips twitch with the temptation. “Unless you want it to be.”
“Nathaniel,” she says, half-laugh, half-warning.
I unfold the paper with exaggerated care and offer it to her. At the top, in bold script, it reads:
Strategic Partnership Agreement – Capstone Edition
Beneath it, written in mock-formal legalese:
Whereas Olivia Bennett is brilliant, incisive, and—frankly—far too good to be saddled with a mediocre partner,
And whereas Nathaniel Caldwell brings sharp instincts, steady hands, and unwavering belief that Olivia Bennett makes everything better—including him,
The undersigned agree to enter into an exclusive academic alliance for the successful completion of their final-year capstone project—with full rights to bragging privileges, caffeine-related indulgences, and any celebratory activities deemed mutually beneficial.
She reads it in silence, then looks up at me, the corner of her mouth turning up in a grin. “You made a contract?”
“You inspire thoroughness,” I say, stepping closer. “And I don’t share credit, Olivia. Not unless it’s with you.”
Her smile blooms—radiant, heart-stopping. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” I say, brushing my knuckles over her wrist, “you’re still standing here.”
She rolls her eyes but reaches for the pen I offer with a dramatic flourish. “Well. I’m certainly not signing with anyone else.”
