Chapter 11 - The ProposalDamian dropped to one knee on the stone path, right beneath a canopy of white wisteria. He snapped the velvet box open.
Inside sat a ring that took Clara’s breath away. It wasn't the massive, aggressive diamond he had given to Priscilla—the one that looked like captured lightning. This was an antique, vintage-cut emerald surrounded by a delicate cluster of tiny diamonds, shaped like a blooming flower. It was elegant, timeless, and completely suited to her.
"Clara Bennett," Damian said, his voice steady but filled with a profound depth of feeling. "Will you do me the honor of marrying me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life making sure you never have to skip a meal, never have to worry about the winter, and never have to feel like the floor is where you belong?"
Tears, hot and happy, finally spilled over Clara’s lashes. She didn't look at the ring; she looked at the man kneeling before her—the billionaire who had ruined his tuxedo for her, who had run into a fire for her, and who loved her for exactly who she was.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice carrying on the spring breeze. "Yes, Damian. A thousand times yes."
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From behind a nearby hedge, a loud cheer erupted. Nora and Dorothy jumped out, throwing handfuls of flower petals into the air. Dorothy was crying tears of pure joy, while Nora ran forward and threw her arms around both of them as Damian stood up and slid the ring onto Clara’s finger.
Damian pulled Clara into his arms, lifting her slightly off her feet as he kissed her—a deep, protective, and loving promise of the future they were going to build together.
