Chapter 718 Proposal
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Time felt suspended, the air between them charged with something fragile and unspoken.
Avery turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the soft curve of Isadora's ear. The faint tickle of her hair against his skin made him think of Maggie — small, warm, and needing his protection. She was quiet in his arms, almost obedient in the way she leaned into him.
"Isadora," he murmured.
His voice was rough, frayed at the edges, as if the alcohol had stripped it down to something raw. Much of his intoxication had already faded, but his hand kept moving in slow, steady strokes over her hair. It wasn't enough. He dipped his head and pressed a tender kiss to her — his treasure.
It was the first time he had spoken her name like this, with such intimacy, and it felt utterly natural.
Maybe they were meant to be from the start. He should have been her husband, her shelter, the one to keep the storms at bay — not the man who let her fear the space between them, not the man who left her to fight the cold winds alone.
He knew the business world too well. If she had gone alone tonight, she would have been forced to drink until she was sick — sick enough to end up in a hospital. That she hadn't asked for his help was his failure.
The thought made him hate himself. More than anything, he wanted to give her a future worth holding onto. But what if she didn't want it?
He held her tighter, repeating her name like a prayer, until both of them were trembling.
Then, in a voice low and unsteady, he said, "Isadora, marry me. Let me be your husband in every way. Let me be the one you can turn to without hesitation when things get hard. Let me stand beside you so no one will ever dare to hurt you again. Let me give you the name Mrs. Montague."
He paused, eyes lingering on hers, his voice low and warm, "Isadora, let me take care of you."
Avery had never truly loved before, but now he understood — love was the ache in his chest when he saw her in pain, the unwillingness to let her suffer even a little.
'Isadora, I'll spend the rest of my life treating you right,' he thought.
He finally loosened his hold on her. Their eyes met, both of them glistening with unshed tears.
They said love's greatest height was tragedy, but this — this was something deeper, a collision of souls that might only happen once in a lifetime.
Avery reached into his pocket and pulled out something that caught the dim light.
A platinum ring.
He kissed the tip of her nose, then took her hand. His palm was hot with sweat, his voice trembling so badly it broke.
With their fingers laced tightly together, he whispered, "Isadora, let's share a lifetime together. I even bought the ring myself. The store was having a twenty percent sale today. I was being frugal — only $7,800. Everything I have is for you and Maggie."
Isadora's lips trembled as she looked at him, half laughing, half crying. "You liar. You spend over a hundred thousand dollars on a single hunting outfit. Your cars cost over ten million each, and you have more than a dozen of them. You wouldn't know frugal if it bit you."
Avery's gaze burned into hers. "Then I'll just make more."
They spoke nonsense, but their eyes stayed locked, unwilling to look away. This was the most fiercely they had ever loved each other — or maybe it was just the alcohol loosening Avery's pride enough to let the words spill out.
Either way, Isadora liked this side of him. Very much.
She lowered her gaze, took the platinum ring from him, and slowly slid it onto his left ring finger.
Avery held his breath, watching her, watching the band of metal — a promise — settle into place.
The car was dim, the ring catching a shard of cold light.
It hung on his finger, but it rested on his heart.
A vow for a lifetime.
For a long time, he didn't move. He just stared at the ring, knowing what it meant — that she had chosen him, that in her heart he stood above Jacob, above Tobias.
In a world so wide, her love had only one name.
Avery.
A rush of heat surged through him. He pulled her close, coaxing her into saying shameless vows, making her promise forever, making her say she would only ever love him.
Isadora could only laugh and sigh at the same time.
She straightened, reached into the neckline of her dress, and carefully took out a diamond ring. Meeting his gaze, she said, "You haven't even put mine on yet. Your proposal is only half done."
Avery's expression softened instantly. He took the ring from her, treating it like something priceless, and slid it gently onto her finger.
Then he bent to kiss her hand, lingering there, his voice a husky murmur. "Isadora, I am in love with you."
Not "I love you," but "I am in love with you."
Because he had loved her for a long time, but never dared to say it.
She understood. Her voice was quiet. "I know, Avery."
He looked up at her, wordlessly urging her on.
She cupped his face, kissed the sharp line of his jaw, and said she wanted to spend the night with him.
Heat flared in his blood.
He wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice dropping. "Are you sure?"
She answered by kissing him, matching the way he usually kissed her — bold, unrestrained. Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered that the last hotel they'd stayed at was a good one.
Avery didn't need to hear more.
An hour later, they were in the same suite.
What followed was inevitable — fierce, unrestrained, as if they were making up for everything they had owed each other over the years.
Afterward, they lay in each other's arms, watching the night beyond the window.
The city lights sparkled like a sky full of stars.
Avery, bare-chested and solid, leaned back against the headboard with Isadora resting against his chest.
He stroked her hair, his voice rough, "Isadora, I don't think we've ever been this quiet together. We're always arguing, always clashing. I think... I like this."
She smiled faintly against him. "That's because you're getting older. You don't have the energy anymore."
Her fiancé let the insult slide. In his mind, marriage meant giving in to your wife without condition — like Henry and Oliver. Both men had been wild in their youth, and now they were utterly tamed. Oliver, especially, couldn't go two sentences without mentioning his Sarah.
The thought made Avery laugh.
Isadora looked up at him, curious, but he only said, dead serious, "I was just thinking about the first time we met. You were already looking at me like you couldn't take your eyes off me, weren't you?"
Isadora rolled her eyes.