The moment Lyle and my mother were secured, I put the next phase into motion. Tyrone had spent the last two days on a highly classified mission.
"It's done, Jay," Tyrone confirmed, stepping into the now-empty command center. "The mansion is ready. Fully secured, off-grid. All child-proofing installed. The South Wing staff has already moved in. No one will ever find it."
I nodded, a rare, genuine smile touching my lips. This wasn't a fortress…it was a home. A sprawling, sunlit property on a secluded beachfront, far from the shadows of the war, yet as secure as any stronghold. It was a place for a family to grow, a place fit for my Love and our child.
"Contact Rosline and Ronda," I instructed. "They have two hours. Tell them the target is en route. Tell them to prepare the subject for a secret proposal at the new home. Clothes, nails, hair, the works. No details. Just execution."
I left Tyrone to coordinate the elaborate deception. I needed to see her.
Belinda's POV
Ronda and Rosline were unusually giddy. They had arrived at the hospital, dressed me in a simple, elegant red dress…something soft and flowing that hid my still-tender stomach. They did my hair, applied subtle makeup, and blindfolded me.
"Where are we going?" I asked, a mix of apprehension and excitement bubbling up.
"Jackson's orders, B," Ronda chirped, a rare lightness in her voice. "Just trust us."
We landed softly, helicopter barely audible. They led me by the hand, the scent of the ocean mingling with something else... something sweet, floral, and deeply familiar.
"Okay, B. You can open your eyes now," Rosline whispered.
I opened my eyes and gasped. I was standing in a sprawling, open-air room, perhaps a grand living area. The floor was covered with a mix of vibrant sunflower petals, rose petals and my absolute favorite…and delicate pink lilies, his secret acknowledgement of my favourite flowers. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of candles flickered everywhere, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the high ceilings and panoramic windows looking out onto a moonlit ocean.
And in the center of it all, Jay stood waiting.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit, looking impossibly handsome, his shoulders broad and powerful. But it wasn't his appearance that caught my breath…it was his eyes. All the coldness was gone, replaced by an overwhelming, raw emotion…love, fear, and a desperate hope.
He walked toward me, his movements slow, deliberate. Ronda, Rosline and her fiancé Mark, and Tyrone were standing discreetly in the shadows, their presence a silent testimony to the family we had built.
He took my hands, his touch warm and firm.
"Love," he began, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes never leaving mine. "I know I have been a cold…distant nightmare. I know I said terrible things, and I know I pushed you away when you needed me most. I was consumed by my past, by the fear of losing you, of causing you pain."
He swallowed, his thumb tracing the back of my hand. "But even in that darkness, even when I was furious with your decisions that hurt me, I never stopped loving you. Not for a single second. You are the only woman I have ever known who could turn my world upside down and still make me feel like I finally have a home. You are chaos and order, strategy and heart, all rolled into one beautiful, infuriating package."
He looked around the magnificent room, then back at me. "This world is complicated, Love. Dangerous. And it's only going to get more so. But I can't imagine fighting it with anyone else by my side. I can't imagine coming home to another woman after you. You are perfect. You are the one. And I will never, ever let this world tear us apart again."
He knelt down on one knee, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. The small, gold velvet box glinted in the candlelight.
"Belinda Emilia Knight," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "You are pregnant with my child. You blew up my father's house. You have forced me to rebuild my entire life. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Will you marry me?"
Tears streamed down my face. The sheer, overwhelming love, the raw honesty of his chaotic proposal, filled my heart. He loved me, all of me, every reckless, strategic, vulnerable part.
He opened the box. Inside, resting on gold velvet, was the most stunning ring I had ever seen. A magnificent marquise-cut diamond blazed in the center, flanked by two knife-edge bands…one of glittering white diamonds, the other of dark, dangerous black diamonds…all set in cool, elegant silver.
It wasn't just a ring…it was my story. It was the warrior and the woman, the light and the darkness. It was perfect.
"Yes," I sobbed, laughing through my tears. "Yes, Nunus! A thousand times yes! And I love the silver band! You know me so well!"
He slid the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, a symbol of everything we had endured, and everything we were about to build. He stood, pulling me into a fierce, desperate kiss, the scent of roses, lilies and sunflowers, candles and ocean, filling our new home. The war was over.
Jackson's POV
The new home was alive with a warmth I hadn't felt in months. The shock of the proposal had been replaced by the sheer joy of our friends. The dining table, situated in the sprawling room where I had proposed, was full of genuine happiness.
Tyrone raised his glass first, his smile wider than I'd seen it in weeks. "To the Commander and the Queen! No one else could turn a high-stakes, cross-continental assassination into a pre-wedding announcement. May your life together be marginally less chaotic than your courtship!"
"To chaos!" Ronda cheered, clinking her glass against Tyrone's. "And to B's phenomenal taste in diamonds! Jackson, that ring is a tactical masterpiece."
Rosline was beaming. "To the future. And to getting this woman out of an armored compound and into a proper home. The perfect fortress for a perfect family." She nodded pointedly at Belinda's stomach.
My new life, the life I had been terrified of, was right here. And yet, beneath the surface of relief and celebration, a different kind of tension was coiling inside me. I was starving for her. 3 days of cold, calculated distance, and weeks of terrified separation had left me hollowed out. I'd held her life in my hands, but not her body.
I engaged with her all night, my touch an essential lifeline. My arm was glued around her waist as we ate, my thumb tracing slow, insistent circles on her hip bone. When she laughed at one of Tyrone's jokes, I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, inhaling the familiar, intoxicating scent of her skin and the expensive perfume she loves using.
"We need a honeymoon immediately, Love," I murmured in her ear, my voice rough.
"I think we need to survive the night, Nunus," she whispered back, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She understood the craving, the need for the physical acknowledgment that we had both survived.
Later, as we moved to the lounge, I pulled her onto my lap, resting my chin on her shoulder. I threaded my fingers through hers, placing her hand against my chest, so she could feel the steady, hard beat of my heart…a heart that was finally safe. Every brush of her hand, every soft weight of her body against mine, was a cruel, beautiful reminder of what I had denied myself. I was entirely consumed by the yearning for her.
The night finally wound down. Our friends, sensing the profound shift in the atmosphere, made their graceful exits.
"Don't worry about the dishes, Jackson," Rosline chuckled, giving me a knowing glance. "We'll send someone in the morning for clean-up."
"Go get some rest, Jay," Tyrone said with a hearty laugh, giving me a final clap on the shoulder.
The moment the front door clicked shut, the performance ended. The silence of the mansion was vast, luxurious, and instantly electric.
I didn't waste a second. I turned to my beautiful poison, my eyes dark with pent-up passion, and simply scooped her up into my arms. Her soft gasp was the only sound.
"I have been craving you for a very long time, Love," I growled, burying my face in her hair. "Three days of watching you fight for your life, and another week of hating myself for needing to be distant. I can't wait another minute."