The sunlight streamed into the penthouse, casting a golden hue across the living room floor. Nina sat at the edge of the couch, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop. A fresh mug of coffee sat beside her, untouched and cooling. She was too deep in her zone to notice.
Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, watching her in silence. He had seen many versions of her—the broken, the bold, the brilliant—but this version was something else. There was a quiet fire in her. A confidence that was no longer borrowed from the shadows of his influence. It belonged to her alone.
"You haven't blinked in five minutes," he said, finally breaking the silence.
Nina glanced up, her expression softening. "Deadline. This proposal needs to go out before noon."
He crossed the room and gently closed her laptop.
"Hey—"
"You need to eat," he said firmly, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "Your brain can't run on ambition alone."
She sighed, amused. "You're becoming overprotective."
"I'm becoming practical. Burnout won't help The Visible Project."
She rolled her eyes but took a bite. "You sound like me."
"I'm rubbing off on you."
As she chewed, she noticed something peculiar in his gaze—like he was holding something back. She narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Sebastian."
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I wasn't going to show you yet," he said, unfolding it slowly. "But I know how your mind works. You'll want time to think."
She took the paper and read it. It was an itinerary. A two-day trip to the Amalfi Coast. Private villa. Secluded beach.
"This weekend?" she asked.
He nodded. "Just us. No cameras. No meetings. No boardrooms."
She looked up, her heart stirring. "Why now?"
"Because I want to pause time with you for a moment. Before everything accelerates again."
She studied him for a beat, then smiled. "Let's disappear, then."
When Friday came, the jet was ready, the villa was waiting, and for the first time in months, Nina left her laptop behind. The moment their feet touched the white sand of the private beach, she exhaled like she hadn't in weeks.
They walked barefoot, the surf brushing their ankles. She twirled once, laughing as the wind tangled her hair. Sebastian reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together.
"This is what I wanted to show you," he said softly.
She looked around. "The sea?"
"No. Peace."
Later that night, after a candlelit dinner under the stars, they curled up on the terrace, wrapped in a single blanket. The moonlit waves murmured below them.
"I remember the first time I saw you," Sebastian said quietly.
Nina turned her head against his shoulder. "In the office lobby?"
He chuckled. "No. Before that. You were walking into that networking event at Crown Plaza. I was on the other side of the room."
"You never said."
"I watched you. You looked like you didn't belong—and yet, you owned the space like you built it."
She smiled. "I was terrified that night."
"And I was intrigued. I never forgot you. When I saw you again in the lobby, I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That you were going to change my life."
Nina reached up, brushing a thumb across his jaw. "You changed mine first."
He reached into the pocket of his linen shirt and pulled out a small box.
Her heart stopped.
He opened it to reveal a ring—simple, elegant, with a diamond that caught the starlight and scattered it into the night.
"I wasn't planning to do this here," he admitted. "But then you looked at me on that beach today, and I realized I didn't want to wait."
She stared at the ring, speechless.
"I don't need a big speech," he said. "Just this: Marry me, Nina. Not because it's time, or expected, or convenient. But because no part of me feels complete unless you're beside me."
Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them.
She didn't look at the ring again. She looked at him.
And then she whispered, "Yes."
He slid the ring onto her finger, and she laughed through her tears.
"You made me cry on the Amalfi Coast," she said, kissing him fiercely.
"I'll make it up to you."
They stayed on the terrace for hours, talking about nothing and everything. The ring glittered on her finger, but it wasn't the jewel that made her hand feel heavier—it was the promise. The certainty.
By the time they returned to New York, news of Nina's engagement spread like wildfire.
She was no longer just a rising executive. She was now "the future Mrs. Blackwell," as one media outlet put it.
The title annoyed her more than she expected.
During a joint interview for a business magazine, the reporter asked, "How does it feel to be stepping into a legacy like Blackwell Industries through marriage?"
Nina smiled, cool and controlled.
"Actually, I've been stepping into the legacy for a while now—through strategy, decisions, and vision. The ring is just a symbol. Not a shortcut."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, proud as ever. "That's why I proposed."
After the interview, they stepped outside into the waiting car. As the driver pulled off, Nina turned to Sebastian.
"Do you think I'm overcompensating?" she asked.
"For being brilliant?"
"For fighting every headline that tries to shrink me?"
He shook his head. "You're correcting the record. That's different."
She looked down at her ring. "I want to be your wife. But I don't want to be reduced to that."
"Then don't let them," he said. "Build louder. Shine brighter. Be impossible to ignore."
She nodded, comforted. Then she leaned back in her seat.
"I'm going to make sure the next girl like me doesn't need to defend herself in a room full of men."
Sebastian looked at her, admiration glowing in his eyes.
"Marry me next weekend."
She blinked. "What?"
"Let's do it. Private, elegant, just us and the people who matter. No tabloids. No brands. Just love."
Her lips parted. "You're serious?"
"I've never been more."
She thought for a second—then grinned.
"Okay," she said. "Next weekend."