Extra 4 Wedding(4)

Extra 4 Wedding(4)
Cecilia

He led me back up the beach toward the house, but instead of going inside, he guided me around to a section of the gardens I didn't usually visit—a private courtyard surrounded by high hedges that blocked it from view of the main grounds.

And there, parked on the perfectly manicured lawn like it belonged there, sat a helicopter.

Not just any helicopter—a sleek private model in deep blue with silver accents that matched the hot air balloon, the Winston Corporation logo discreet on the tail.

"Arthur," I said slowly, my brain struggling to process this development. "What is this?"

"Your helicopter," he said simply, pulling a small box from his pocket and holding it out to me. "Whenever you want to use it."

I took the box with trembling fingers, opening it to find a perfect miniature replica of the helicopter behind us—every detail precise, down to the registration numbers on the tail.

"You bought me a helicopter," I said, the words coming out flat with shock.

"I bought you freedom," Arthur corrected, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. "You said you wanted to be a detective, wanted to travel for cases, wanted independence. Now you have it. You can go anywhere you want, whenever you want. No waiting for commercial flights, no depending on my schedule or my planes."

Something warm and overwhelming flooded through my chest—love and gratitude and a kind of awed disbelief that this man, this impossible, overprotective, possessive man, had just given me the means to leave him whenever I wanted.

"You're not afraid I'll just fly away?" I asked, my voice coming out thick with emotion. "That I'll take off and never come back?"

Arthur's hands slid from my shoulders to cup my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn't realized were falling. "No," he said simply, and then he took my hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his heart.

"Because no matter where you go, no matter how far you fly, I'll always find you. You're here—" He pressed my hand harder against his heartbeat. "You're part of me, Ceci. Distance doesn't change that."

I pulled him down into a kiss that tasted like salt from my tears and joy from this perfect, impossible day.

"I love you," I whispered against his lips. "God, Arthur, I love you so much."

"I love you too," he murmured back.



Night had fallen by the time we finished dinner—a private meal on the terrace overlooking the ocean, just the two of us and the stars overhead.

I was still floating on the high of the day, still processing everything Arthur had done, when he stood and held out his hand.

"One more thing," he said, and there was something in his voice that made my heart skip.

I took his hand, letting him guide me back inside the house, but instead of heading toward our bedroom as I'd expected, he led me in the opposite direction—toward a section of Black Peak I rarely visited, down a hallway I'd always assumed led to storage or mechanical rooms.

"Arthur?" I asked, confusion mixing with curiosity as he stopped in front of what looked like a service elevator.

He just smiled and pressed the call button.

The doors opened to reveal a modern elevator car—all brushed steel and soft lighting—and Arthur guided me inside before pressing a button I'd never seen before, one labeled simply with a symbol that looked like waves.

The elevator began to descend, and I felt my ears pop slightly with the pressure change as we went down, down, down—far deeper than I'd realized the estate extended.

"What is this?" I asked, watching the floor indicator count down past numbers that shouldn't exist.

"Patience," Arthur said, but I could hear the barely contained excitement in his voice.

The elevator finally stopped, the doors sliding open to reveal—

"Oh my god," I breathed, stepping out into what could only be described as an underwater observatory.

The entire space was enclosed in thick glass, giving us a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the ocean surrounding Black Peak's foundation. Soft blue lighting illuminated the interior, making everything feel dreamlike and surreal.

But it was what lay beyond the glass that stole my breath completely.

Fish—hundreds of them, maybe thousands—swam past in schools that moved like liquid silver in the artificial lights Arthur had clearly installed around the perimeter.

I could see the rocky foundation of the cliff, covered in kelp and coral that swayed with the current.

A sea turtle drifted past, completely unbothered by our presence, its ancient eyes regarding us with mild curiosity before it continued on its way.

"When did you—" I turned to Arthur, my voice failing as I tried to process the sheer scope of what he'd built. "How did you—"

"The three months you were gone," he said, moving to stand beside me, his hand finding mine. "I needed something to do with my hands, something to focus on besides worrying about you. So I had this built—a place where you could experience the ocean without having to dive, where you could see the life that exists beneath the surface."

I couldn't speak, couldn't find words adequate to express what I was feeling, so I did the only thing that made sense—I started moving, letting my body interpret the beauty around me in the only language it knew.

I spun, my arms extending as I imagined myself as one of the fish outside the glass, my dress flaring around me as I moved through the space with increasing confidence.

The soft lighting and the gentle movement of the water beyond the glass made everything feel fluid, dreamlike, like I really had transformed into something that belonged in this underwater world.

Arthur watched me for a long moment, his expression soft with affection, and then I was reaching for him, pulling him into my improvised dance with insistent hands.

"Dance with me," I said, already guiding his hands to my waist. "Please, Arthur, dance with me."

He smiled and let me lead, following my movements with surprising grace for someone so large and solid. We moved together through the underwater observatory, spinning and swaying to music only we could hear, surrounded by the gentle glow of bioluminescent creatures and the endless blue of the ocean.

We danced until my feet ached and exhaustion finally caught up with me, until the ocean outside the glass had gone dark except for the artificial lights and the occasional flash of bioluminescence from passing creatures.

And when Arthur finally guided me back to the elevator, back up to the main house and our bedroom, I felt more loved, more cherished, more completely understood than I'd ever felt in my entire life.

This man—this impossible, overprotective, possessive man who bought me helicopters and built underwater observatories and looked at me like I hung the moon—this man was mine.