Aurora Grey – POV
The Wolfe estate rose like a myth in the distance-grand, palatial, and terrifying. As Ace's car curved through the third wrought-iron gate, I swallowed hard, my palms damp against the leather seat of the Bentley.
The driveway stretched on like a runway, flanked by towering hedges trimmed so precisely they looked sculpted. Marble statues lined the path, lit from below so that each figure glowed against the darkening sky, like a row of silent, watchful sentinels.
"This place is..." My voice trailed off, words failing me.
Ace, seated beside me in a navy suit so sharp it probably had its own security clearance, glanced over. His expression unreadable, his tone flat. "A little much?"
I let out a nervous laugh. "More like Versailles decided to move into Manhattan."
The corner of his mouth twitched-the barest hint of amusement. "You get used to it."
I didn't miss the way his jaw tightened, though. For all his composure, even he didn't seem entirely at ease coming home. That made my pulse quicken for a different reason.
The car slowed at the entrance. No guards barking orders. No doorbell. Just seamless efficiency, like the house itself was alive and waiting. A line of butlers in tailcoats appeared as though conjured, moving in silence. Before the engine even stopped, one opened my door while another extended a gloved hand toward me.
I hesitated, then stepped out.
Marble steps stretched upward. Black-and-gold double doors loomed like a cathedral entrance. A chandelier visible through the glass looked like it cost more than my mother's entire medical treatment plan.
Ace joined me. Without asking, his hand slipped into mine. He didn't look at me-didn't say anything. Just squeezed. The gesture shouldn't have meant much, but it anchored me, steadying my breath.
We crossed the threshold into a hall so vast my footsteps echoed. A massive oil painting of a snow-covered mountain range loomed above a sweeping staircase. Everything gleamed-polished wood, silk wall coverings, marble floors so pristine I could see my reflection.
And then... they appeared.
Ace's parents.
His father was seated at the end of the hall in a sleek black wheelchair, posture straight, regal despite the wheels beneath him. Silver hair swept neatly back, custom navy suit fitted perfectly. A cane rested beside him, untouched. His presence filled the space without needing to move.
Beside him stood a woman so strikingly elegant I had to remind myself to breathe. Dark hair gathered in a low bun, a strand of pearls glowing against her collarbone. Her cream dress draped fluidly over her frame. Her eyes-grey like Ace's, but softer, warmer-sparkled when they landed on me.
"You must be Aurora," she said with a smile that didn't feel forced. Her voice was melodic, rich with warmth. She stepped forward and took both my hands in hers, her touch unexpectedly human. Not a cold inspection, but a welcome.
"Welcome, darling. I'm Vivianne. And this handsome man is my husband, Richard."
Richard Wolfe inclined his head. His gaze was measured, assessing-but not unkind. "So. You're the girl who managed to make my son think of marriage."
"I-" My throat dried. I forced the words out quieter than I intended. "I wouldn't go that far."
To my shock, Richard chuckled, the sound booming softly against the high ceilings. "Don't be nervous. I was the same when I met Vivianne. Thought I was far out of her league."
Vivianne rolled her eyes at him fondly, then gestured toward a smaller parlor off the hall. "Come, let's sit. We've prepared brunch, but I imagine conversation comes first."
The parlor was intimate compared to the grand entrance-velvet chairs, gold-rimmed teacups, and a roaring fireplace despite the summer warmth outside. We settled on a small couch, Ace beside me, his knee brushing mine. His touch lingered-a reminder. I'm here. Play the role.
Vivianne poured tea herself-no servants, no theatrics. That alone disarmed me more than any luxury could.
"You're very beautiful, Aurora," she said with simple sincerity.
"Thank you, ma'am-"
"Vivianne," she corrected gently, with a smile that crinkled her eyes.
"Vivianne," I echoed, nodding.
"And you work in a café, correct?" she asked.
"Yes," I said evenly. "A small shop downtown."
"I admire that," Richard said before Ace could cut in. "Work is work. People forget that. The fact that you're here at all means you must be doing something right."
I blinked, startled. "I wasn't sure what to expect."
Vivianne's eyes glinted knowingly. "If you weren't worth the attention, Ace wouldn't have brought you home. He rarely brings anyone home."
I turned my head, searching his face. His expression stayed unreadable, his silence deliberate. Watchful.
"And you want children?" Richard asked suddenly, his voice direct, slicing through the warm air.
I straightened. "One day. I love kids."
He nodded, slow but firm. "I hope that day comes soon. I'd like to meet my grandchild before I go."
Ace stiffened, his posture rigid. His mother rested a gentle hand on Richard's knee, but said nothing. The silence that followed was soft but weighted, pressing down on all of us.
Then Vivianne broke it with a light clap of her hands. "Enough seriousness. Let's eat."
The dining room overlooked gardens sprawling wider than my entire neighborhood. Brunch arrived like edible artwork-poached salmon, soufflés the size of teacups, fruit carved into roses. I barely tasted anything; my nerves turned every bite to ash. But I smiled, nodded, and answered every question politely. My sister. My mother. My favorite color. My favorite book. Richard listened attentively. Vivianne complimented the emerald dress.
Ace hardly spoke, but his hand stayed clasped over mine beneath the table, grounding me like a lifeline.
When it was time to leave, Vivianne embraced me softly, surprising me again. Her perfume was subtle, expensive, familiar.
"You'll do fine," she whispered against my ear. "Just don't let the pressure eat you alive."
Richard extended his hand firmly. "Thank you for coming. And thank you for saying yes to him."
I managed a smile though my pulse thundered. "Thank you for being kind."
⸻
Back in the car, with the estate shrinking behind us, I let out the breath I'd been holding since we arrived. "That went... better than I expected."
Ace didn't answer. His gaze was fixed ahead, jaw sharp, thoughts clearly somewhere else.
But then-without looking-he turned his hand over, palm open between us.
And I slid mine into it, because even if I didn't trust the world we'd just stepped into, I knew one thing: I couldn't face it without him.