Chapter 14
The Reeves Estate made our house look like a dollhouse.
Iron gates opened onto a long drive bordered by immaculate trees. Cameras followed the car discreetly. Security posts blended into landscaping designed to look effortless.
Mia pressed her face to the window.
“Grace, you are not marrying a man. You are marrying a small nation.”
Dad laughed from the front seat. “Do not touch anything expensive.”
“I make no promises, Papa Zane.”
Richard Reeves greeted us at the entrance with warmth that softened the scale of the mansion.
“Daniel. You’re looking better.”
“Rest and a bossy daughter. Excellent treatment plan.”
Richard turned to me. “Grace. Welcome.”
He nearly said future home; I could see him reconsider for my sake.
Inside, marble floors and vaulted ceilings were beautiful in a way that bordered on impersonal. The house seemed preserved rather than lived in.
Then I met Eleanor.
She rose from a velvet chair, silver hair pinned elegantly, grey eyes unmistakably related to Alexander’s.
She walked straight past everyone and took my hands.
“Kind eyes,” she said. “My grandson did not describe those properly.”
Heat climbed my face.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Absolutely not. Eleanor, or Grandmother if you can bear me.”
Within ten minutes she and Mia had formed an alliance that terrified everyone else.
The ceremony would be private: registry office, immediate family, dinner at the estate. No press.
“And the dress,” Eleanor said. “Designers arrive tomorrow.”
I nearly dropped my teacup.
“That’s too much.”
“You are marrying a Reeves. I have waited years for someone to let me interfere. Do not deprive an old woman of her joy.”
Mia leaned over. “We’ll make the General forget his own name.”
“Mia.”
The room changed before anyone could continue teasing me.
Footsteps sounded in the hall.
Alexander entered in full uniform, with Ethan behind him carrying a briefcase.
I had seen Alexander in photographs, on television, in suits. The uniform was different.
Medals caught the light. The structure of the dark green jacket made his already rigid posture seem carved into place. Conversation died around him without anyone asking it to.
His eyes found me.
For a second, the rest of the room blurred.
Ethan introduced himself properly. He was younger than I expected, sharp-eyed and disciplined, with enough dry humour hidden behind professionalism that I immediately understood why he and Alexander worked well together.
Wedding logistics became security logistics within minutes.
Registry at ten. Dinner at six. Transport routes. Medical provisions for Dad and Eleanor.
Eleanor clicked her cane against the floor.
“Stop briefing her like she is crossing enemy territory. This is a wedding. Have you even bought the girl a ring?”
Silence.
We had not discussed rings.
I had assumed there would not be one.
Alexander reached into his uniform jacket and set a small velvet box on the table.
“Open it.”
Inside lay an emerald-cut diamond on a platinum band—elegant, restrained, impossible to mistake for anything but expensive.
“You bought this?”
“I commissioned it last week.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows rose.
Alexander came around the table, took the ring, and held out his hand for mine.
His fingers were calloused and warm.
The ring slid perfectly into place.
“It fits,” I whispered.
“It should.”
“How did you know my size?”
Ethan became suddenly interested in his notes.
I decided not to ask further.
For the rest of the afternoon, I kept looking at the ring.
Every time I glanced up, Alexander was already looking at me.
A year, I reminded myself.
This was an arrangement.
So why, sitting in the silent estate that would soon be my home, did I feel the first dangerous spark of anticipation?
Mia called it a controlled emergency.
Ethan called it a secure civilian event.
I called it exhausting.
On Saturday morning, the registry building was closed to the public.
Military police stood at the entrances. Press had no access. The ceremony room itself was small and elegant, almost intimate enough to make the security outside feel absurd.
Dad found me in the waiting room wearing an ivory lace gown chosen after Eleanor rejected approximately half of Europe.
He stopped in the doorway.
“Gracie.”
The way he said my name nearly ruined my makeup.
“No crying,” he warned, already crying himself.
“Hypocrite.”
He took my hands.
“Your mother would have been proud.”
I looked down.
“I wish she were here.”
“She is in every good thing you carry forward.”
Mia burst in before either of us could completely fall apart.
“We are sixty seconds behind Ethan’s schedule,e and I refuse to be court-martialed at a wedding. Move.”
Dad offered his arm.
The doors opened.
Alexander stood beside the officiant in a black tuxedo.
He did not smile when he saw me.
He simply became very still.
That reaction affected me more than a grin would have.
Dad placed my hand in his.
Alexander’s fingers closed around mine carefully.
The ceremony was brief.
We signed the papers.
Grace Zane became Grace Reeves in dark ink on a government document.
The officiant declared us married.
Then, to my surprisehe, he moved on without inviting a kiss.
Disappointment flickered through me before I could stop it.
Alexander noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Later, while photographs were being arranged, he leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“You expected a kiss.”
My face burned. “I did not.”
“You looked disappointed.”
“You imagine things.”
“Rarely.”
I glared at him.
His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, then returned to my eyes.
“A polite kiss for an officiant would have been dishonest.”
My breath stalled.
“Why?”
His voice lowered.
“Because if I kiss you, Grace, I will not do it politely for an audience.”
He stepped away before I could form a reply.
For the rest of the ceremony, I was acutely aware of my new husband.
The contract had not changed.
The boundaries had not changed.
But something inside them had.
