[ELARA'S POV]
Eight and a half months pregnant.
That's how far along I was when Damian decided to propose. Again. Publicly.
We were already married. Had been for months. But he said that didn't count because it had been rushed. Practical. Done in a hospital with lawyers and fear hanging over us.
He wanted to do it right this time.
I found out when Marcus handed me a garment bag at breakfast.
"Boss wants you to wear this tonight."
I unzipped it. A dress. Deep emerald green. Silk. Beautiful. Cut to accommodate my massive belly.
"Tonight?"
Marcus's face stayed blank. "Gala. Top of the Chrysler Building. Seven pm. He said to tell you he'll handle everything else."
"What gala?"
"The one he's throwing." A muscle twitched in Marcus's jaw. Almost a smile. "For you."
My stomach flipped. The baby kicked hard against my ribs like she felt it too.
"Marcus, what is he planning?"
"Above my pay grade." He headed for the door. Paused. "But you might want to practice looking surprised."
