King of Wall Street(88)

“I spoke to an architect last week,” Max said, taking Amy. Max King was never short of female attention of any kind, so of course Amy was a daddy’s girl.

“An architect?” I asked, opening the refrigerator. Now I had an explanation for that cheese craving; I was going to give in to it.

“You’re right; we need a bigger space. I thought maybe we’d add a pool house, too, because we need live-in help.” Max wandered out of the kitchen mid-conversation before I could tell him I was sure we could manage without anyone living in.

It was as if life was set to fast forward—Max and I living together, Amy, a second baby.

“Girls,” Max called from the study.

I knocked the fridge door shut with my hip “What does he want?” I asked Amanda.

“I don’t know, but let’s go,” she replied, bundling me toward the study.

“Do you smell that?” I asked. “And where’s that music coming from?”

I opened the door to the study to find the room empty but the doors leading out onto the patio open, the white curtains lifting in the breeze.

“What’s going on, Amanda?” I asked. She shrugged, nudging me toward the patio doors. As I stepped outside I saw Max right in front of me, on one knee, surrounded by every colored rose ever to exist. I glanced around. Flowers covered the ground and huge vases were scattered across the lawn, adding color wherever I looked. To my left was a cello player, and I instantly recognized the music as Bach’s suites, the same piece Max had turned up to full volume the night we’d first slept together.

Amy was on her mat next to Max, looking up at me, grinning, her eyes a beautiful green, just like her father.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “How . . . when—” I turned to Amanda, whose grin told me she was clearly in on the whole setup.

“Well, where there’s effort required, there’s no excuse not to make things perfect,” he said. “And I thought, the four of us here, together and now with number five on the way . . .” He took a deep breath. “I can’t imagine anything more perfect than that.”

He opened the red box he held, revealing a huge princess-cut diamond. “Harper, I’ve loved you from the very moment I laid eyes on you. You are already my heart, my soul, my family—and now I want the world to know. As the King of Wall Street, I need you to be my queen. Marry me.”

I smiled. How could a girl say no to a proposal like that?