Lara's POV
The intensity of his gaze made me speechless. Before I could gather my thoughts, the waiter arrived with our food, breaking the tension for a moment. The table was filled with dishes I had only seen in magazines, elegant and extravagant, the kind of meal that belonged to Marco Blackwell's world.
He picked up his glass and looked at me with quiet authority. "You should eat," he said in that calm, commanding voice that always made my stomach twist. "I know you haven't eaten since that biscuit."
I froze, staring at him. How could he know that? How could he still read me so easily? I wanted to tell him I had lost my appetite, that I couldn't eat because of the ache he left behind. But the truth was cruel. Marco had nothing to do with my heartbreak. It was entirely my fault.
I could have stopped him. I could have walked away when I still had my pride. But I didn't. I was foolish enough to want him, desperate enough to beg him not to stop that night. I told myself it was just one night, a reckless mistake I could forget. Yet after feeling his hands on my skin and his breath against my neck, forgetting became impossible.
I barely tasted the food on my plate because all I could think about was him. Every movement he made drew my attention, every glance from him seemed to hold me still. I was painfully aware of the space between us, yet it felt as if something invisible connected us, something I could neither name nor escape.
The sound of his voice, the warmth of his presence, even the way he reached for his glass made my chest tighten. It was ridiculous, completely irrational, but I felt as if our heartbeats had somehow fallen into the same rhythm. The thought unsettled me. It terrified me to think that I could be losing control over something I didn't even understand.
I tried to focus on my meal, but my hands trembled slightly each time our eyes met. What was wrong with me? Why did I feel drawn to him in a way that made my pulse quicken and my thoughts scatter? I told myself to stop, to get a grip, to remember that he was still my boss and that I had already embarrassed myself enough. Yet no matter how much I tried to look away, something in me refused to let go.
"Lara," he said my name quietly, just one word, yet it was enough to make my heart somersault inside my chest.
"Marry me."
I nearly choked on the water I had just sipped. It went down the wrong way, and I started coughing so hard that the waiter at the next table turned to look. My eyes watered, and I waved my hand helplessly while Marco sat there, completely unbothered, watching me as if proposing marriage was the most natural thing in the world.
"What?" I managed to croak, my voice half strangled from coughing. I grabbed my napkin, praying I didn't look as ridiculous as I felt. "Did you just say marry you?"
He leaned back slightly, calm and collected, his expression unreadable. "I said, marry me and be the mother of my child."
I blinked at him, waiting for him to laugh or at least show a hint of a smirk, but nothing came. He looked as serious as if he had just asked me to sign a business deal worth billions.
"Are you feeling alright?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath. "Did someone spike your drink or something? Because the last time I checked, you were still engaged to Serene. You even made sure I saw how in love you were with her, remember? So forgive me if I'm having a little trouble believing this sudden proposal. And you're lucky I didn't spit my water all over your expensive suit."
He didn't even flinch. "I'm perfectly fine. And I meant what I said. I want you."
I stared at him, half horrified and half fascinated. His tone left no room for teasing, yet a part of me wanted to laugh just to break the tension. But I couldn't. Because behind that calm, unwavering gaze, I saw something real, something that made my stomach twist in the most confusing way.
Was he serious? Was this another one of his power plays? Or was I really sitting here, in a luxurious restaurant, being proposed to by the man who once broke my heart and still somehow made it race every time he looked at me?
I swallowed hard and set my glass down carefully, afraid that one more surprise from him might actually make me faint.
But Marco was not done.
He stood up slowly, the sound of his chair sliding against the marble floor drawing every pair of eyes in the room. My breath hitched as he reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a small velvet box. The light from the chandelier caught on the diamond inside, sending tiny reflections across the table.
Then, to my complete disbelief, he went down on one knee. The world around me seemed to fade. All I could see was him looking up at me with that steady, piercing gaze that had undone me more times than I cared to admit. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer than I had ever heard it.
"Lara Quinn," he said, his tone trembling just enough to make my heart ache, "I want you be my wife and be the mother of my child. Will you marry me?"
For a moment, the room fell silent, my pulse roared in my ears, and my vision blurred with unshed tears. I wanted to speak, to laugh, to cry, but all I could do was stare at him in shock.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that for all the chaos he brought into my life, Marco Blackwell had just managed to turn my entire world upside down with one question.
And this time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to resist it.
"Aren't you going to say something, or will you make me kneel here until you decide if you want me or not?" His voice was calm, but there was a hint of impatience behind it, the kind that reminded me he was still the same confident CEO who always got what he wanted. Even when proposing, he somehow managed to sound like a man who was still in control of everything.
I swallowed hard, still unable to believe what I was hearing. "Why are you doing this, Mr. Blackwell? Isn't it enough that you humiliated me this morning by kissing your fiancée in front of me?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound composed. I wanted to look strong, but my heart was racing too fast for me to even think straight.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze locked on mine. "Come on, Lara," he said softly, his tone dropping into something dangerously tender. "Don't make me beg. Just say yes, and I promise you will be the luckiest woman in the world."
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to roll my eyes and tell him that luck had nothing to do with heartbreak. But when his eyes softened and his next words came, my breath caught.
"Just say yes so I can kiss you again."
My pulse stuttered, and the sound of it filled my ears. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot the people around us, the soft music, even the waiter who had frozen a few tables away, clearly unsure if this was real or some elaborate scene.
I could not move. Marco was still kneeling, the glow from the chandelier reflecting in his eyes, making them seem deeper and gentler than I had ever seen. His hand was still holding the ring, and the light made it sparkle like it belonged in a dream.
"Lara Quinn," he said again, this time slower, his voice almost breaking with sincerity. "Will you marry me?"
My throat tightened. The confident man I had once known was gone, replaced by someone who looked at me as if I was the only thing that mattered. The words sank deep into me, burning through every wall I had built to keep him out.
My hands trembled under the table, and I could barely find my voice. I wanted to say no. I wanted to remind him of every reason I should walk away. But my heart was louder than my thoughts, whispering a truth I could no longer ignore.
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath. Marco looked up at me, still waiting, still hoping. And for the first time, I saw something in his eyes that terrified me more than his arrogance ever had.
He meant it. And that realization alone made my world spin.
"Yes."
The word slipped from my lips before I could even think. I wanted to shout it, to throw my arms around him and let the whole restaurant know, but all I managed was a quiet nod as I extended my trembling hand toward him.
For a second, everything felt unreal. The soft lights shimmered across the empty restaurant, and the only sounds that remained were the quiet footsteps of the staff standing discreetly in the background and the faint music playing from the corner. Marco looked at me like I was the only person in existence, his gaze warm and searching, as if he wanted to be certain he had truly heard me right.
He took my hand gently and rose to his feet, still holding on to me as if letting go would break something fragile between us. My heart pounded so fast I could barely breathe. I didn't know if this was a miracle or if the heavens had finally grown tired of my prayers and decided to grant me the one thing I had begged for.
Marco Blackwell, the man I had loved and hated and dreamed of in equal measure.
Before I could say another word, he pulled me closer. His touch was steady, yet there was a kind of tenderness in the way his fingers brushed against my skin.
Then he kissed me. It wasn't the kind of kiss that sought to prove a point or to claim. It was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything he never said. My knees weakened, and I clutched his arm for balance, afraid that if I let go, I would float away. His lips were warm, and the world seemed to disappear in that single heartbeat.
When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine. I could still feel the taste of his kiss lingering on my lips, and my entire body trembled with the weight of it.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring or if this was only another cruel twist of fate, but in that moment, none of it mattered. Because for the first time, Marco wasn't a dream or a memory. He was real, standing right in front of me, holding me like I was something worth keeping.
And I knew, deep inside my heart, that this was only the beginning.