Chapter 86

FREYA

The soft glow of the setting sun, painting my walls in golden hues, offered little comfort amidst the chaos on my floor. My suitcase lay in shambles—clothes strewn in every direction as if rebelling against being packed.

I sat cross-legged on the couch, idly fiddling with loose threads on my sweater. He slumped in the armchair opposite, looking far too relaxed for someone causing me this much stress.

“But at least you have to tell me what we’re taking!” I tried to say without sounding anxious, but my voice betrayed me, tight with frustration.

“That’ll spoil the surprise,” he replied smoothly, a smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back, the picture of ease, as if my rising frustration were entertainment.

I blew out a sharp breath and jerked my gaze to the open suitcase. “How am I supposed to know what to pack, then?” I demanded, throwing up my hands.

He angled his head, regarding me with maddening nonchalance. “You know what,” he said finally, his tone as infuriatingly casual as ever. “I’ll have someone pack for you.”

I stared at him, speechless. The smirk solidified on his face, and I laughed, sharp and incredulous. “What! You can’t be serious!”

His answer hit me like a bucket of cold water. My mouth fell open as I stared, torn between outrage and disbelief. “Wow,” I said finally, dragging out the word. “That’s the definition of stupid rich people.”

He shrugged, unfazed. “I’ll be that if it preserves the surprise?”

I shook my head, laughing, this time softer, tinged with something warmer. “There’s no way I can get you to tell me where we’re going?”

He leaned forward slightly, as if considering it. “No,” he said after a pause, his lips twitching into another maddening smirk. “Not that I can think of.”

My frustration gave way to playfulness. I sat up straighter, my eyes narrowing as a plan formed. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice adopting a singsong tone.

He sat up straighter, his expression shifting from smug to cautious. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t answer. I just moved.

Planting my feet, I lunged at him, my hands reaching for…what, I wasn’t sure. The truth? Revenge? He yelped, a startled, high-pitched sound that would have been hilarious if I hadn’t been so focused.

“Oh, fuck!” he shouted, scrambling out of the chair just in time to evade me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, collapsing back onto the couch, panting. He stood a few feet away, chest heaving, hair mussed, and a glare that was more exasperated than angry.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

“And you’re infuriating,” I shot back, grinning as I sank deeper into the cushions. The suitcase lay abandoned, clothes spilling over the edges like the scattered pieces of an adventure he refused to reveal.

It turned out the surprise destination was Italy. Aiden had flown us there in his private jet. I could hardly believe it when the pilot announced we were landing in Milan. My heart raced as I glanced at Aiden, who only grinned, seemingly as calm as ever, while I processed that I was going to spend a week in one of the most beautiful countries in the world.

The week flew by in a blur of magic. Milan was a feast for the senses: high-end fashion boutiques, stunning architecture, and food that made me question if I’d ever eat anything else again. Florence, though, captured my heart. Walking through the Uffizi Gallery was like stepping through history, and crossing the Ponte Vecchio at sunset, with its golden light reflecting off the Arno River, was a moment I wanted to freeze in time. And Venice—oh, Venice. It was as if someone opened a fairytale and placed me in its heart. Gondolas glided effortlessly through shimmering canals, and the city whispered secrets from centuries past. Every corner of Italy left its mark on me, and leaving tomorrow felt like saying goodbye to a place I’d only just begun to understand.

It was our last night, and sadness weighed heavily on me as I sat down for dinner by the beach. The moon hung low over the water, reflecting in shimmering silver waves. Lanterns cast a warm glow on the delectable feast before us. However, all this beauty felt heavy on my heart.

“I don’t know how I’ll go back to work next week,” I confessed, swirling my wine. “I just want to stay here.”

Aiden’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Should I buy a house here?”

The question surprised me, but I laughed, playing along. “We can when we’re old. We can move to Italy.”

His eyes softened in that way that made my heart skip a beat. “Yeah.”

“So you do want to grow old with me?” I teased, the corners of my lips tugging upward.

“I do,” he said simply. His voice held a weight, a seriousness that made me pause. Before I could respond, he stood, pushing back his chair. Then, to my shock, he dropped to one knee.

“Oh my God!” I squealed, hands flying to my mouth as he produced a small velvet box. The world spun. He was seriously proposing. My Aiden was proposing to me.

“Freya,” he began, his voice calm but gravelly with emotion. His gaze locked onto mine—unguarded and raw. “From the first day I met you, life has been brighter, richer, and more beautiful than I ever thought possible. You’ve been there for me at my lowest, never turning against me. Instead, you encouraged me, loved me, and showed me forever.”

Tears welled up. He continued, opening the box with a shaky hand.

“Every adventure, every challenge, every moment feels like a gift when I’m with you. And this week, seeing you light up exploring this incredible country, I knew there was no more perfect place to ask you this. I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you’ve made me. I want to grow old with you, to build a home with you—here in Italy, or anywhere else we choose. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down my face as I nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” I managed, my voice choked with emotion.

I turned to kiss him, and a cheer erupted. Spinning around, I couldn’t believe my eyes—our friends and family stood a short distance away. Gia, Reyna, Avery, Carlos, Cillian, Erica, Connor, Bianca—all of them. Even Brownie and Oreo, our dogs, were there, tails wagging wildly.

“What the hell?” I laughed, wiping my tears. “Did Aiden fly everyone here?”

Aiden shrugged, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I knew you’d want to celebrate with them.”

“I love you,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “I can’t love you enough.”

“Mommy!” Gia ran over, her arms wrapping around me. “You’re getting married!”

Reyna pulled me into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you, babe.”

Connor and Aiden embraced, and I was glad they were finally getting along.

Cillian smirked. “Congratulations, sis-in-law.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you flew the Roman Empire over for the proposal,” I quipped, making everyone laugh. The night was perfect.