Jay's POV]
Day 4 arrived with the kind of morning light that felt like it had been specifically commissioned by the Watson family. The estate gardens were a masterpiece of emerald lawns and blooming white peonies, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet.
I was currently being held hostage by a team of three stylists. They had me in a pre-wedding gown that was a dream of white silk and delicate lace, making me feel more like a celestial entity than a university student.
"Don't move, Jay! Your 'Glow' is hitting the light perfectly!" Freya squealed, holding a reflector disc while Mica and Rakki adjusted my hair.
"Where's the CEO?" Ella asked, looking toward the mansion. "The photographer is losing the 'golden hour' window!"
Right on cue, the glass doors of the terrace swung open. Keifer stepped out, and the entire garden seemed to go silent. He was in a tailored navy suit that fit him like a second skin, his hair perfectly styled, his eyes already locked onto me with that laser-focus intensity.
The Photographer's Struggle
The photographer, a world-class professional named Marco, was sweating. He had done royal weddings, but he had never dealt with a Watson.
"Okay, Mr. Watson, Miss Jay, please stand by the marble fountain," Marco directed. "I want a classic, elegant pose. Shoulders square, look at the camera, and give me a professional smile."
Keifer walked over, but he didn't square his shoulders. He immediately wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me so close that there wasn't even a thread-width of space between us. He didn't look at the camera; he looked at me.
"Keifer, the camera is over there," I whispered, my face flushing as the "Glow" began to radiate.
"The camera isn't the primary focus," he murmured, his voice low and vibrating against my ear.
"Please!" Marco pleaded. "Just one shot of you both looking forward? For the official announcement?"
We tried. For about three seconds, we looked at the lens. But the moment Marco went to click the shutter, Keifer's hand moved to the back of my neck, and he leaned in, inhaling the scent of my perfume.
"System error," Keifer whispered. "The user is too distracting."
The "Candid" Masterpiece
"Okay, okay," Marco sighed, resetting his tripod. "Let's try a 'stroll' through the rose garden. Very natural. Very candid. Just walk and talk."
We began to walk. I was trying to play the part, holding my bouquet and looking at the flowers, but Keifer was being completely difficult. He wasn't walking; he was prowling beside me, his eyes never leaving my profile.
"Analysis, Jay," he said softly, his hand sliding up my arm. "The light is reflecting off your skin at a frequency that is currently overriding my ability to follow the photographer's instructions."
"You're going to get us in trouble with Mamma Serina," I teased, looking up at him.
That was his breaking point.
Suddenly, Keifer stopped walking and pulled me into him. Before I could breathe, he tilted my head back. But he didn't go for my lips. In a move that was purely possessive and raw, he buried his face in the curve of my neck, his lips pressing a firm, lingering kiss against my skin.
CLICK.
The sound of the shutter was loud in the quiet garden.
"YES! THAT'S IT!" Marco shouted, practically jumping behind his camera. "Don't move! The lighting, the angle, the raw data—it's perfect!"I was frozen, my heart racing at a $100\%$ frequency. Keifer didn't pull away immediately. He stayed there for a second longer, his breath hot against my neck, marking me in front of the lens and the entire squad watching from the terrace.The Resulting ChaosThe squad immediately swarmed the camera.
Calix: Whoa! Look at the CEO! He's gone full 'Alpha' mode on the rose bushes!
David: That's not a wedding photo, that's a territorial claim!
Freya: Look at Jay's face! She's glowing so hard the camera almost overexposed!
Ci N: I've seen a lot of candid shots, but that one is going to need a 'Warning' label. It's too intense.
Bridget: (From the back, clutching a tray of water) It's inappropriate. A Watson should have more decorum.
Keifer finally pulled back, his eyes dark and satisfied. He looked at the digital preview on the screen—the shot of him with his face buried in my neck, his hand gripping my waist, while I looked completely breathless and lost in him.
"Keep that one, Marco," Keifer said, his voice dropping into that authoritative CEO tone. "That's the cover of the album. Everything else is secondary."
"But Mr. Watson, we don't have a single photo of you both looking at the camera!" Marco cried.
Keifer tucked my arm into his, leading me back toward the house. "The camera doesn't need to see my face, Marco. It just needs to document who owns the 'Constant.' And I think the data is very clear."