Chapter 76: I Wouldn’t Say That
"I wouldn’t say that," Ivy replied. "But yes, he does worry about you."
"Joey was my first love," Sylvia confessed suddenly. She pressed her lips together as though tasting the confession and finding it both bitter and sweet. "My only love. It’s hard letting go of that kind of love."
"I know he is a good man," Ivy said. "I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Good men are rare. I am of the opinion though that you should let go."
"Do you consider Winn to be a good man?"
Ivy exhaled slowly. "I think deep down he is. He just prefers people to see him as aloof, arrogant, detached, cold." She paused. "But under all that, there’s... warmth. I think he’s the kind of man who feels everything so intensely he has to hide it. Otherwise, it might consume him."
"Yeah, that’s Winn." But her laughter faded quickly, her smile dimming. She didn’t add the truth she carried in her chest—that their father had carved that mask into Winn, had molded him into armor. Winn hadn’t chosen to be cold; he had been taught to be.
The car slowed. The driver’s voice floated back: "We’ve arrived, ma’am." The engine purred into silence.
Sylvia leaned forward, adjusting Ivy’s curls. The restaurant glowed ahead. "Go get him," she said.
The driver stepped out and opened Ivy’s door. Ivy hesitated for just a breath, her heart hammering.
Ivy smiled genuinely at Sylvia. "Thank you," she whispered.
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she stepped out of the car. And then she saw him. Winn stood framed by the warm golden lights spilling from the restaurant’s entrance, tall and devastatingly composed in his dark suit. His hand lifted in a small wave toward Sylvia, a brief goodbye, before his eyes locked onto Ivy’s and refused to let go.
"What are we doing here?" she asked.
Winn leaned down, brushing her lips with his in a kiss so brief it left her aching for more. "You’ll see."
A maître d’ guided them through the elegant restaurant, bypassing tables filled with murmuring couples until they reached a private staircase. When they emerged on the rooftop, Ivy stopped dead in her tracks. The city stretched out beneath them, skyscrapers piercing the velvet sky. A small table set for two awaited them, draped in crisp linen, a bottle of champagne idling in its bucket. Just beyond, a sofa had been placed near the banisters.
"Winn," Ivy breathed, turning to him with wide eyes. "What’s going on?"
They were left alone, the staff retreating with discretion. Winn’s gaze lingered on her, his jaw tense, his hands flexing.
"I realized that I went about this all wrong."
"What?" She tilted her head, confusion knitting her brows. He wasn’t the type to second-guess himself. Winn Kane didn’t admit mistakes—ever.
"I didn’t do this right," he said, pacing a small step before stopping himself, pinning her with his gaze. "I messed this up. And we could... we do have the potential to be happy together. I don’t want you to look back and wished it had gone better."
"I still don’t understand."
"I asked you to marry me and made you feel this was entirely about the mall project. About business. I was wrong." He stepped closer. "I care about you. More than I have cared in a long time. And I gave myself a hundred reasons not to—like the fact that you are more than a decade younger than I am, or that my world isn’t built for someone as good as you. But you gave me more reasons to care in spite of all of it. You... made me want to feel again."
The honesty in his tone robbed her breath.
"So, what I’m trying to say is..." Winn reached into his jacket, his hand steady. When he pulled out a small box, time seemed to suspend. He lowered himself to one knee, the powerful man suddenly at her mercy under the open night sky.
The world fell away. It was only him, raw and unmasked.
Ivy stood frozen, her gaze flickering between the small box and the man kneeling before her.
"Marry me," he said finally. He flipped open the little box, and the ring glittered beneath the rooftop lights.
"I already said yes, Winn," she whispered. Her fingers twisted together nervously, as if trying to hide the trembling she couldn’t control.
"You said yes because you were trying to help me," he countered gently but firmly. "I want you to say yes now because... because you care about me too."
Ivy’s lips parted, and for one reckless second she wanted to spill everything—to confess that she did more than care, that she ached for him, wanted him, that his absence would shatter her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit. But Trish’s warning thundered in her mind. Don’t fall too deep.
"Yes," she finally breathed. "Yes, I will marry you. Because I care about you too."
Relief flickered across Winn’s face. He took the ring from the box with careful fingers and slid it onto her trembling hand. When he got to his feet, she barely had time to inhale before his mouth claimed hers.
"I missed one more thing about why I want to do this with you," he murmured against her lips, his breath hot, teasing her mouth with promises.
"There’s more?" she said, arching a brow, feigning shock. Her body leaned into his instinctively, betraying her.
"You are the sexiest woman I have ever met." His hand trailed down her spine, making her shiver.
"I didn’t know you were this sweet," Ivy teased.
"I have my moments." He smirked. Then his mouth found hers again, slower this time, unhurried.
"Champagne?" he finally murmured against her lips. His hand lingered on her waist, reluctant to let her go.
"Champagne sounds perfect," she said, though what she really wanted was another kiss. And maybe another after that. "This is really nice." She lowered herself into the elegant chair. Winn sat opposite her, shoulders squared.