LIVELY POV

"Isn't Wallace's summer holiday in Lake Oswego supposed to be all about relaxation and rejuvenation, with work set aside?" I asked Aaron as we were driven down a road in England.

I was aware of the engagement photo shoot that Kathleen Wallace said was mandatory for the wedding announcements and invitations, but what I didn't expect was a knock on my door at 5 a.m., especially when I hadn't had proper sleep after the doctor came for my last dose and declared me completely healed. To top off my ignorance of what was coming with the knocking, I was then told that a plane was waiting to take us to England for a one-day photo shoot early in the morning and that we had to rush back by Friday for the ceremony on Saturday.

I still can't wrap my head around the extravagance of the idea—like why can't the photoshoot just happen at the massive lake house that has all the supplies we need? But for Aaron, it was normal. He convinced me as we were taken to the plane hangar, even though we'd spent more hours on planes this week than any normal person would. Then again, what do I know about the luxurious life I've just been introduced to?

"Are you asking how this year's summer is unstable?" Aaron's accusing eyes met mine over his phone screen showing emails.

"Yes." I shrugged, freeing myself from his guilt trip.

"Lively, you have a huge part in it," he indicted, making me grimace at him, unable to keep a straight face.

"Me? Your exhibition had everyone travel to France on holiday. Then there's Kyle's research too. I have no hand in it," I emphasized, turning red but unable to take my eyes off the gorgeous, stereotypically masculine man whose stoic facade always crumbled around me.

The car came to a stop, and even after hours of mostly sitting, I would rather continue our witty banter. Even in silence, being in Aaron's presence felt warranted.

"Fair point, but still, I stand by my opinion. You have a huge part in it, Babe. France wasn't all about me, nor was Milan completely about Kyle. Then there's San Francisco... largely about you," he winked, putting on tinted sunglasses that fitted him elegantly, as it was just early evening.

The door on my side opened halfway through Aaron's response. It wasn't Keenan, who had driven us, but he had come along for his job, of course.

"What does all that have to do with me? You and your cousins are always working, even on break, like right now," I defended, gesturing at his phone, authorizing my point. He adjusts his sunglasses on the crook of his nose with a reminiscent smile, taking pleasure in my argument. "Dane can't even put down his laptop, and Mason is always painting evils. Don't tell him I said that. But it's all the girls who are having fun."

Aaron broke into chuckles, amused by my pouting, and I struggled between being irritated and delighting in the sound of his charming laughter.

"What San Francisco do I not know about?" Mom's voice goaded, drawing our attention to my open side and revealing it wasn't Keenan who had been standing there.
I had been rambling without realizing my words were falling on scolding ears.

"Uhmm?" My voice came out awkwardly sweet, hoping to coax a softer response. I knew this trick usually worked on Dad, but now I was trying my luck with a woman who didn't tolerate my nonsense. As expected, her brow arched, unimpressed, and she stood her ground, waiting for my answer.

"Livy?"

No one had informed me that Mom and Sadie were joining us. It wasn't until Aaron, Bubble, and I walked onto the plane and saw them that I was surprised. Oddly, Kathleen Wallace was seated in the same area as my mother too.

Aaron took my hand on the Rolls-Royce center console and squeezed it reassuringly. "It was when Lively said yes, and I flew us to San Francisco to show her where we would be staying."

"Was it when you stood up Bubble and he missed his medication, leading to his hospitalization for days?" She sounded sarcastically critical and accusatory. I chose to remain silent, guilt trapping me in its grip.

"Again, I apologize wholeheartedly. It was entirely my fault. We will never let anything like that happen to little man again," Aaron stated with genuine humility, accountability, and sincerity. "From now on, he comes first, doesn't he?" He tilted his head and looked at me, his tone firm with a sense of finality yet expectant of my approval. This was exactly what I had dreamed of hearing from him. Although he was late, he didn't let the delay deter him; he made an effort to show up and put his all to make amends, which is more than most absent fathers do. He might not realize it yet, but he was settling his debts by erasing my doubts and anger, proving himself worthy of Bubble, if he chose to claim. The carved void in my chest began to close in, and though I had no words, I managed a nod of agreement.

Mom smiled at his commitment, clearly approving of Aaron in a way she had always hoped for in the man I would find.

As she turned to take Bubble from Keenan, I noticed Kathleen Wallace coming through the open door of her vehicle. Spontaneously, Aaron and I both say, "Let's go," "How do you spend Christmas and Thanksgiving?"

Aaron hesitated for a moment at the seemingly irrelevant question, but a smile remained on his face. My curiosity about his personal life seemed to always bring him some pleasure, and he had to admit that this was an important topic to discuss. "I usually spend the holidays with my parents. Even when I try to be alone, they always end up knocking at my door."

"What do you think they will say if we alternate years between my family and yours?" I asked, concerned about how to balance both families, given the Wallace family's traditions. I hope I am not expected to abandon my family after the marriage.

"Or we could have a combined holiday with both families," Aaron suggested, evidently racking his brain too at the trouble.

"That sounds great." A smile spread across my lips. "We just need to talk them into it." My laugh was nervous, at the thought of the likely unachievable task.

"Your parents are just happy to be anywhere you are. Mine would need pastors preaching in a hundred languages before they'd consider relenting," he remarked, his head nodding towards the exit while I chuckled at his comment about his parents' stubbornness.

"Aaron." With that single word as I stepped out, a castle appeared before us. It was a real-life Victorian building set on endless green land just like those from English history—everything else felt otherworldly. "Oh my God."

Sadie, lagging, was already being photographed by the Wallaces' butlers amidst the grandeur of the building. I'd be doing the same if my future in-law weren't here, keeping a watchful eye on us as Aaron circles, his hands resting on my forearms from behind.

"Wallace English country house, formerly in history known as Charlesworth Stately Home. Built in the mid-16th century. It was owned by an earl lineage until it was purchased by my great-grandfather eighty years ago," he whispered next to my ear as I stood there, awestruck.

"Your family owns this?" I asked, captivated by the serene and graceful atmosphere. I had thought they rented it just for high-quality photo shoots.

"And it's 400 years older than you," he quipped, coming beside me, pinching my cheeks, and guiding me by the small of my back as I laughed at his comment.

The interior furnishings matched the majesty of the exterior. The intricate detailing on the walls and ceiling, soaring high above us, the large paintings of unfamiliar faces, and the grand staircases leading to the second floor—all impeccably maintained. It feels as though it's cleaned daily, despite the Wallaces' infrequent visits, obviously the hard work of the diligent staff who welcomed us in two lines at the entrance and prepared our space.

***

"I wish Dad could have come with us. I couldn't even see him when I got back to Lake Oswego. Is this how it will be from now on after I marry? Not seeing you two often?" I said, lying on the king-sized bed in the room assigned to me, as I checked the undelivered message I had sent Dad on WhatsApp while on the yacht.

"Your father will be at the engagement ceremony, and remember, after the weekend, you'll come home," Mom said, trying to soothe my worries. But they only grew, prompting me to ask her, "But what about after that? Aaron lives in two cities far from home."

"Your home will be with him, darling," she paused, looking at me with conviction. "And with all the resources this family has, I don't doubt you'll come to visit us anytime you miss us."

"Maybe," I agreed somewhat reluctantly, and she pulled out another of my dresses, all now Wallace-branded.

"And, darling, if we're being honest, you know it's not that bad for you to have your own space. You're 21; it's a good age to start a new life. You're no more a baby."

"Maybe not yours, but I am Dad's. Look at you, already trying to send me off," I whined, rolling my eyes and sinking back into the heap of soft pillows.

Mom laughed at my exaggeration.

"Who knows, maybe your dad and I will let you keep Bubble so you won't miss home so much." She continued unfolding my things and hanging them up to prevent wrinkles, inwardly reminding me that this wouldn't go on forever. Even if I had staff to handle everything afterward, and I know all the basic skills any functioning adult should, Mom coming to my room at night, chatting, scolding, and doing it for me was one of my best highlights.

Hearing me silenced and in shock, my chest pounding, she looked up, sensing my hesitation.

"Of course, if Aaron agrees," she backtracked, slightly concerned by my reaction. "But if you need my advice, I'd say you should tell him soon. Let him know."

Only my silence wasn't hesitation; it was shock at hearing something I never expected. Mom had threatened to keep my son from me over every small mistake I made. I had hope, but I never predicted her saying those words, especially given how protective and loving she was toward Bubble.

'That's not it,' I wanted to say, but those words went unspoken when the least expected voice, without knocking, curiously asked, "What will I agree on?"

Shit!

Mom turned pale as we locked eyes, both of us at a loss, a shade of color I was sure mirrored my own.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the door was opened," he added, and I swallowed, hoping I'd managed to come up with a convincing lie.

"You'd ruin the surprise," I said, feigning a pretentious smile. I dreaded that he might see through me, but he smiled innocently, unaware we were discussing telling him that the woman he's about to marry has a five-year-old child, the child we hoped he could accept and protect—a child who was unknowingly his, whom I couldn't abort, didn't know how to, and couldn't bear to let go.

"Came to ask if you'd like to take a walk with me?" he told me, now noticing his outfit—a fitted light blue button-down shirt, partially unbuttoned at the top with sleeves casually rolled up, neat beige tailored trousers, and crisp white matching sneakers.

"Okay," I heaved a sigh, rising and swinging my gaze between Mom, who was smiling at me, and him, whose slutty eyes were devouring me at Mom's ignorance. My cheeks reddened more than I could bear for him to see.

"Can you wait outside while I change?" I rushed before Mom could catch him, his upper lip curling amusedly.

"Wear something light and flexible; it's hot outside, and we're riding," he advised, pushing up the door frame before turning away.

Wait what?

"Riding what, Aaron?"

"You'll see," he winked, and then, as abruptly as he had appeared, he vanished like a gust of wind.

Eager to see the surprise awaiting me, I quickly found the outfits mom had laid out on the bed and changed into them. I wore a light blue, slightly oversized button-down shirt for a comfy feel, tucked into cream, high-waisted, loose pleated shorts with a large circular buckle belt that cinched my small waist, and tan suede ballet flats. I checked my hair in the mirror—it wasn't the sleek style it used to be but rather a mess from being blow-dried without brushing. I tussled it more with my fingers to make it look better, grabbed a chapstick, but ultimately chose a light shade of lipstick that was barely visible. I rushed out, heading straight in search of Aaron, unaware that I might have passed him until his amused voice stopped me. "Your prince charming is right here, baby."

I turned and saw the smug look on his face as he leaned against the wall, sunglasses on and cell phone in one hand.

"Shut up."

He laughed at my mortification defense, his eyes slowly traveling from my head down to my covered toes before he approached, tucking his phone into his pocket.

"We're matching," he smirked.

Shit. I hadn't even thought about it when I grabbed the light blue button-down shirt. "It wasn't intentional. It was all I could find."

He shrugged with a grin, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them on his shirt. "Looks good on you."

"Thank you." I blushed, his changing eyes now matching the shirt's color, which made me excited as he drew closer.

His free hand cupped the side of my face as he leaned in, his invigorating, warm scent—a mix of leather, spice, and something indefinable—invading my senses. I bit my lip to keep a shiver from escaping.

"And I see you're wearing lipstick," he said slowly, his gaze lingering on my lips. "Is it for me?"

It was getting brutally hot, especially since there was no air conditioning here like there was in the rooms; all I felt was his burning breath fanning my flushed cheeks, making me weak in the knees. Yeah, not helping matters at all.

"Hmm?" he urged again while I adjusted the button of my shirt for air. I could only nod, anticipating whether he would follow the instinct speaking in his breath or the control pulling him into his shell of conduct.

It was as if he could hear me daring him; he leaned in and took my lips, fervently, drawing a deep breath from my mouth that tasted of mint and cinnamon, before murmuring against my lips. My hand rested over his splayed fingers on my face, savoring the taste of him for what felt like the shortest of times before he pulled away, brushing his thumb across my undoubtedly swollen bottom lip that had been his target all along.

"Cute," he remarked, causing me to hide behind my hair and smiling, aware of his impact on me, he took my hand and guided us out of the grand castle house.

There was a light green vintage Vespa scooter, making me chuckle at how cute it looked.

"You are driving that?"

Aaron glanced over his shoulder, his brows raised in confirmation.

He mounted the scooter and started it, offering me a hand to get on and encouraging me to wrap my arms around his fit torso. This wasn't the first, second, or third time I had felt him, but it still sent a charge through every inch of me. He rode us through the hedge maze gardens, pointing out various places, such as a well-maintained greenhouse I hoped to explore another time, a golf course, tennis courts, a few ponds, a chapel, the staff quarters, and the horse stables, arena, and paddock. Aaron explained a few more beautiful places this place had before stopping at a small stone building with an open door leading to a stairwell, leaving me gaping as Aaron turned off the vehicle.

"We're going there?" I asked, not really scared, especially with a tired man in overalls coming from it.

Aaron dismounted, now wearing his sunglasses again, but he winced at the sun and nodded in response.

"Welcome, Mister Wallace. I have everything ready for you," the man said in a strong British accent, while Aaron nodded. The man turned to me with a welcoming smile. "Miss Kelby, it's an honor to meet you in person. And congratulations on your engagement." He nodded his head respectfully.

"Thank you." I smiled warmly at the pleasant man.

"This is Henry. His family has worked here for generations," Aaron introduced, but he tightened his grip on my hand slightly, warning me not to extend it. Of course, I wasn't going to listen.

"Nice to meet you, Henry." I shook hands with the man, eliciting a low grunt from Aaron that told me he was frustrated. His jaw clenched, and he shot me a bloodthirsty glance above his glasses as Henry led us inside.

I bit back my smile.

Immediately after descending into the tunnel, we found two chairs around a table, each set with a wine glass, illuminated by warm lights in the dim atmosphere. In the distance, a large rack of wines was stored, extending beyond my sight.

The ambiance was a stark contrast to the outside world, maintaining a comfortable temperature that prevented any sweating. Aaron carried the two glasses, handing one to me as we followed Henry deeper into the softly lit area. The surroundings gradually revealed themselves as we ventured further. We were presented with a small portion of what Henry described as the latest addition to Wallace's wine collection, introduced five years ago.

"It took that long?" I asked, savoring the exquisite taste.

"Not always, and sometimes even longer. It depends," Henry explained patiently, then began a tour of the wine racks on either side. He shared insights on various editions, detailing secret ingredients, motivations behind each creation, and the origin stories of Wallace's ideas.

The tour lasted about half an hour, leading us past wooden wine barrel storages to the first edition that Aaron retrieved from the rack. It was claimed to be Wallace's inaugural wine, still in production for over a hundred and thirty years.

"My great-great-grandmother's recipe. To maintain quality, the grapes are grown on the land where she was raised. The yield is much smaller compared to the grapes for other editions. For reputation's sake, production is limited to one bottle per family each year, with the possibility of acquiring another if one bids the highest at our annual auction."

That's fancy.

"So this is all your great-great-grandmother's idea?" I asked as he uncorked the bottle.

"Yes, she founded the winery when she was thirty, and her husband started the vineyard. From there, ideas for more recipes flowed from her siblings," Aaron explained as he poured a portion for both of us.

Henry had left us by the time we reached the end of the cellar and concluded our tour.

I took a sip, savoring the rare taste and aroma. The wine offered a perfect balance of spices, earthiness, and a depth of bold sophistication.

"This is—like nothing I've ever had." I'm not even kidding. I take another sip before Aaron takes the cup from me, facing me with his body too close, setting the cups where they balance behind me.

He runs the back of his hand along my face, causing a dryness in my throat despite the liquid I've had recently.

"Grandpa authorized it to be served at our engagement ceremony this weekend and a bottle will be sent along with our wedding invitation to all guests when a date is fixed. It's the first time this has ever happened in our family history. It's like giving out charity but to the rich. Oddly."

"Your grandfather loves you." I panted, hair rising in the back of my neck at the awareness of how close he was.

"So they say." He shrugs nonchalantly.

"Don't you agree?" I worriedly inquired.

"I'm conscious," he says dismissively, his hand moving down to my cleavage, fiddling with the button there.

My mouth involuntarily opened for air, but he didn't let me have any; he latched onto it. I didn't care. He nibbled my jawline inhaling from it, trailing down my neck to my feverish chest. I loop my hand around his neck, needing him as vehemently as he does me, wanting to feel his hair, only for them to be snatched by the wrists and pinned above my head as he pulls back.

With puffy lips and quirky, his eyes darken as he shakes his head, rumbling a warning click of his tongue, denying me.

"These hands don't get the honor of touching me."

My brows furrowed. "Why? I want to touch you."

"I warned you not to go for the handshake, but you did anyway."

"Seriously?" I scoffed. There's no way he's serious. But his eyes were sober.

His jaw clenched, and before I could process his silence, my body was spun around, my waist pulled toward him, arching me from the waist. His hand barred onto mine against the racks, warning me in the ear to keep them there for my physical support, while he hurried to unbuckle my belt and slide down my shorts and lace panties. He squeezed the cheeks and kicked open my legs as far as they could go with the shorts resisting at my ankles, giving a light stroke where I was ready for him, causing me to quake slightly and attract a sharp inhale from him.

"Do not let go," he advised. And then he slid his raging erection into me.

A gasp wafted from my opened mouth, marveling at how he always filled me to a capacity I feared I couldn't handle.

I went to grip my ass to create more openings because as much as it feels good, my mind was disturbed he could tear me, but his hands caged them back against the rack he had warned to preserve them, and he thrust. I swear I feel him reaching places way too deep, the pleasure cries in me weren't held back.

When we were done, he used a napkin from his pocket to clean his essence pooling between my legs and pulled my shorts back up for me. Bottles were shattered, and wine was spilled all over the floor—so much of it.

My cheeks burned at the scene we had left behind. Poor Henry; he wouldn't be pleased with our visit next time. The man looked tired enough, and now he had to clean because of us. I honestly feel bad.

"Thank you for bringing Mom and Sadie along," I said as we walked out of the tunnel, my body still buzzing from the vibrations between my legs, a reminder left by the man watching me like I was made of rare fragments that were priceless.

"I'm glad you're happy," Aaron breathed a naughty smirk on his face at my weak attempt to change the subject.

"I am. Mom said she was at the lake house for dinner last night. Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, avoiding his gaze.

"You were asleep, and I thought you'd enjoy the surprise of seeing my aunties and your mom collaborating."

I smiled, then noticed he had taken the hand which I had shaken Henry's with. Even funnier, allowing it to rest on his chest and journey more places around him for my balance while he started the scooter after he had claimed disgusted by it just some while ago. When I reminded him, he glanced over his excellent shoulder from under his sunglasses and rich eyelashes and brought my hand to his lips. His sensuous lips wrapped around my middle finger, deep into the warmth of his mouth, seductive and hypnotic, making my breathing quicken and intensify a new throbbing where he had just cleaned.

"I'd be doomed to believe something could defile you for me," he smirked cockily, returning my vibrating hands to hold onto him. I hope they hold firm or I'll tumble and crash from being liquid at Aaron's effects.