C157 Will You Marry Me?

The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the faint aroma of rain-soaked earth.

Dante stood by the wide windows of his bedroom, looking out at the vast, manicured gardens stretching beyond the estate.

The usual storm brewing in his mind had taken a back seat today, replaced by a nervous energy that he wasn’t accustomed to.

Today was the day.

A black velvet box sat on the dresser.

Its content was the result of weeks of searching, deliberation, and second-guessing.

Inside was the ring.

It was a platinum band with a delicate, oval-cut sapphire framed by smaller diamonds that sparkled like captured starlight.

It wasn’t ostentatious, but it carried a weight of elegance and meaning.

Just like the woman it was meant for.

Annabelle.

Dante ran a hand through his dark hair, exhaling slowly.

He had considered asking Natasha for her opinion on the ring, but she had taken a leave of absence after months of grueling work. Their last conversation had been brief, her tone unusually subdued.

He’d make it a point to check in with her later.

But today was about Annabelle.

Mauve’s advice echoed in his head. “You’ll know the right one when you see it.” She had been right.

The moment Dante laid eyes on the sapphire ring, he knew it was meant to sit on Annabelle’s finger.

He had called Mauve to show her through a video call.

Her reaction had been immediate.

Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “You know her so well."

He had flown Mauve in for the occasion.

Her presence would mean everything to Annabelle, and Dante wanted this moment to be perfect in every possible way.

The estate staff had been working tirelessly to transform one of the garden terraces into a private haven.

Twinkling fairy lights adorned the trellises, and white roses, Annabelle’s favourite, lined the path leading to the terrace.

The soft hum of a string quartet would set the mood, their instruments blending seamlessly with the gentle rustling of leaves.

Dante checked his watch.

Everything was on schedule.

He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored black suit, the fabric smooth and cool against his fingertips.

His reflection in the mirror revealed his usual composed exterior, but he could feel the unfamiliar tightness in his chest.

Was it nerves?

Anticipation?

Perhaps both.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called.

Mauve entered, her expression warm but tinged with a hint of anxiety.

She wore a simple navy dress that complemented her auburn hair.

“Everything’s ready,” she said softly, walking over to stand beside him.

Dante nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “And Annabelle?"

“She’s with Cathy. They have no idea what’s coming.” Mauve smiled, though her eyes shone with emotion. “You’re doing a good thing, Dante. She deserves this happiness."

“She deserves more than I could ever give her,” Dante admitted, his voice low.

Mauve placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t doubt yourself. She loves you. I’ve seen it in the way she looks at you."

Her words settled something in him, and he gave a short nod. “Thank you.”

Mauve squeezed his arm before stepping back. “I’ll be waiting on the terrace."

As the door closed behind her, Dante took one last look at himself in the mirror. "You can handle this, Cazador."

**********

Annabelle was waiting in the drawing room when Dante came to find her.

She wore a light blue dress that flowed like water, with her chestnut hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.

She looked up as he entered.

Her eyes lighting up in that way that never failed to stir something deep within him.

“You’re dressed up,” she remarked, tilting her head.

“You’re one to talk,” he countered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She shrugged. “Cathy insisted. Said I needed to look like a princess, whatever that means."

Dante extended his hand to her. “Come with me."

Annabelle raised an eyebrow, but she placed her hand in his. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

********

The terrace glowed softly under the canopy of lights, with the setting sun casting its last golden rays across the horizon.

Annabelle’s breath hitched as they stepped onto the path lined with roses.

"Dante...” she began, her voice trailing off.

He led her to the centre of the terrace, the string quartet’s melody wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

Annabelle’s eyes darted around, taking in every detail before landing back on him.

“What’s going on?"

Dante dropped to one knee.

The gasp that left her lips was soft, almost inaudible, but the way her hands flew to her mouth spoke volumes.

“Annabelle Shaw,” he began, his voice steady despite the rapid thrum of his heart. “From the moment you crashed into my life...quite literally...you’ve done nothing but challenge me, infuriate me, and make me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

Tears welled in her eyes as she lowered her hands, her lips trembling.

“But you’ve also shown me what it means to live, to love, to want something more than just power or control.” He opened the velvet box, revealing the sapphire ring. “You are my peace, my chaos, my everything. And I can’t imagine a life without you by my side."

Annabelle’s tears spilled over, her hands trembling as they hovered in the air.

“Will you marry me?"

The moment stretched into eternity as he waited for her answer, the world holding its breath.

Her lips parted, but before she could speak, the faint sound of someone approaching reached them.

Dante’s eyes flicked to the side, his senses sharpening.

The moment hung in the balance, the weight of anticipation heavier than ever.