Page 65 of The Billionaire's Promise

I didn't know what she was talking about. I'd had my phone turned on all day and she hadn't called me once. The hallway at the back of the gallery should have been lit, the door to the garden wide open to encourage the guests to wander outside and see the pieces that should've been placed in the gallery's outdoor space.

Instead, the hall was dark and the door was shut. We'd been planning the show for months. How could a major part of it have gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours? Sloane wrenched open the door, planted her palm in the middle of my back, and shoved, propelling me outside.

The door slammed shut behind me, the deadbolt clicking into place. I spun around and pulled on the handle. It turned, but the door remained closed. She'd locked me out.

What the hell?

Sloane could be a raging bitch. Most of the time, shewasa raging bitch, but she usually made sense. The show was big business for her. Why wasn't the garden set up? Why would she yell at me for being late and then throw me out?

I could only hope Charlie would realize I was missing and come find me. Resigned to waiting until someone rescued me—there was no way I was climbing the smooth concrete walls of the garden in four-inch heels and a cocktail dress—I turned to face the garden, intending to sit on one of the wrought iron benches.

Belatedly, I noticed that the garden was lit from above with fairy lights that had been artfully strung around the walls, through the tree in the back corner, and over the gazebo in the center. When had Sloane installed a gazebo?

The whole effect was whimsical and romantic, the sparkling lights delicate and sweet. It didn't go with the modern aesthetic of Sloane's gallery, or the spare, almost aggressive metal sculptures we'd planned to display in the space. I wandered deeper into the garden, curious and confused.

Fashioned of thin poles with a domed top, the gazebo had metal leaves and vines woven around the supports, perfectly fitting the fairy lights twined around the metal. I'd seen one in a similar style at an antique show and had been talking about getting one for my back yard, but I had never gotten around to it.

A single Edison Bulb hung from the center of the domed top of the gazebo, illuminating the small café table in the center. On it sat an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a small metal sculpture of a house.

About as wide as a paperback book, no more than six inches tall, the little house was roughly made, but it reminded me of my own. I picked it up to study it more closely and found it unexpectedly heavy. I knew from experience that metal sculpture could be like that. Sometimes, it was light as air though it looked dense, but often, it was the other way around. Something rattled as I turned the house in my hands.

I looked through the open front door and saw a small black box. What was this? I replaced the little house on the table and stepped away. This had been set up for someone. I was interrupting. I shouldn't be here.

"Do you like it?"

I looked up to see Vance standing in front of the gazebo, his hair loose around his face, wearing a navy suit with a deep blue button-down shirt. I'd chosen his clothes myself a few days before. The tie I'd picked out, with narrow stripes the exact shade of his eyes, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore the collar unbuttoned, the golden skin of his throat warm against the crisp shirt and dark suit.

I stared at him, my chest tight, the corners of my eyes prickling, my heart pounding, wondering what the hell was going on.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MAGNOLIA

Against my will, my knees went weak. Vance knew how to wear a suit, and with his hair loose, he had that whole debonair Viking thing going on. I was not up for this. Speechless, I dug my teeth into the inside of my lip, biting down hard to fight back my tears.

I was not going to cry in front of him. I shook my head in answer to his question. I didn't know what he meant. Did I like what?

"The gazebo," he clarified, gesturing to the metal structure surrounding me. "I've been working on it for a while. Ever since you said you wanted one. You can paint it to match the house . . ."

He trailed off. I didn't know what to say. He'd made me a gazebo? Like I was going to want to put a gazebo Vance had made me in my backyard so I could look at it every day and be reminded of how much he didn't love me.

I shook my head again, still at a loss for words. Coming here tonight had been a mistake. If I'd been able to escape, I would have. I would've pushed past him and gone straight out the door. If only Sloane hadn't locked it.

"I made the house for you too," he said, watching me closely.

I looked down at the miniature metal house on the table beside the champagne. Maybe I'd had one too many glasses of wine, because I didn't get it. Vance swore under his breath.

"I'm fucking this all up. Again." He came into the gazebo, his big body crowding mine, and picked up the house. I expected him to hand it to me, but he held it close to his chest, looking nervous. "You said you deserve to be someone's whole world. And you're right. Magnolia, you deserve everything. Love. Family. Everything. I want that, too. But only if I can have it with you."

I bit my lip again, but I couldn't stop the tears that spilled down my cheeks. Vance swallowed hard and held up the little metal house.

"I didn't know how else to show you. But I realized, Magnolia, that you're my home. It's not a place, it's you. Since the day my parents died, I've felt like I was drifting, like home had been torn from me and I'd never find it again. And I didn't. Not until you. When I'm with you, I have everything I've ever wanted. I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire world. Except for Rosie. But I thought that, maybe, we could love Rosie together."

I was crying too hard to see clearly when he tipped the little house on its side and knocked the black box into his hand. Opening it, he pulled something out and said, "Magnolia, I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you." He dropped to one knee and looked up at me, his hand outstretched, something sparkling fire between his fingertips.

"Will you marry me?"

I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped. He'd bought a ring? I squeezed my eyes shut and wiped my tears away so I could get a better look. Oh, my God. He'd bought me a ring. He was asking me to marry him. Not in an offhand, Brayden kind of way.