Inheritance ✔

Special Chapter: The Proposal - Unexpected Softness

Renzo's proposal to Laurier, post-reconstruction of the Ashford empire

I knew Renzo was up to something when he asked Clara to take Rosette for the weekend without offering a reason.

He was careful, yes. Methodical, always. But not secretive.

At least... not with me.

So when he brought me to the old villa in Liguria—the one we used to call the escape house, back when everything was on fire—I braced myself.

For a conversation.
A confession.
Even a ghost.

But not this.

The sea was calm that evening. Pale blue. Still.

Dinner had been served on the back terrace—candles, warm bread, wine chilled to exactly how I liked it. He'd cooked. I'd teased him. And we'd laughed more than we had in weeks.

Maybe months.

Now, I stood near the stone railing, wind tugging at the hem of my silk wrap.

Renzo walked up behind me, slow, silent. The way he always moved—like a shadow that had finally learned how to touch light.

He didn't say anything at first. Just slipped his arms around my waist, pulled me close.

"Do you remember," he murmured into my neck, "the first time I carried you out of a boardroom?"

I smirked. "Which one?"

"The one where you told three men twice your age that if they couldn't handle your leadership, they were welcome to jump off the 47th floor."

"Oh. That one."

"You were shaking," he said. "But you didn't let them see it."

"They didn't deserve to."

"I saw it."

I paused. "You never said anything."

"I didn't have to." He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "I never wanted you to think you needed anyone to hold you up."

"And now?"

He turned me gently, until we were face to face.

And then—

He knelt.

Just like that.

No announcement. No fanfare.

Just a man in a black shirt and soft eyes, kneeling like the ground had always been meant for this moment.

My breath caught.

He didn't pull out a velvet box.
No ring in sight.

Instead, he held out something small, silver, worn at the edges—

My old Ashford security keycard.

I stared at it.

It had been deactivated years ago. We'd burned the original system when we rebuilt the company.

"What is this?" I asked quietly.

He looked up at me, steady.

"It's the first thing you ever gave me," he said. "Before you trusted me. Before you even liked me."

He turned it over. A new engraving had been carved into the back.

"L.A.H. + R.L.H. – Access Always Granted."

My heart stopped.

Renzo exhaled.

"I don't need a wedding. Or a title. Or anyone else's permission," he said. "I just want this."

He looked at me like I was the only truth he'd ever known.

"You. And me. Choosing each other. Every day. With or without the war. With or without the empire."

"I'm not good at soft things," I whispered.

"I know," he said. "That's why I'll be the soft one."

I blinked fast.

He stood, finally, and tucked the keycard into my hand.

"Say yes," he said, voice low. "And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it's the smartest deal you ever made."

I didn't cry.

Not really.

But I did laugh—choked, breathless, stunned.

And then I kissed him.

Hard.

Slow.

Certain.

"Yes," I whispered against his lips. "God, yes."

That night, we didn't celebrate with champagne or fireworks.

We made tea.

We danced barefoot in the kitchen.

We held each other until the stars faded.

And the world, for once, stayed quiet.