HERMIONE
"…I intend to," Dylan says, the phone still at his ear.
My heart thunders so loudly, I swear he can hear it through my ribs.
There's a pause, a rustle, then Grandma's voice again — softer now, but still trembling:
"Well… we'll be expecting you soon, young man. And bring flowers. Not cheap ones."
Dylan grins. "Yes, ma'am. The best you've got in California."
The call ends with Dylan murmuring, "Talk to you soon, sir," before he gently places my phone down on the coffee table.
I'm still sitting in his lap, my fingers curled around the front of his shirt like I might float away if I let go. His other hand is warm on the small of my back, grounding me.
"They're going to kill me," I whisper. "My grandparents… I've never heard them so upset."
"They're not going to kill you," Dylan murmurs, leaning his forehead against mine. "They were worried. That's what love sounds like when it panics."
I huff a breathless laugh. "You don't understand… they raised me. They built their lives around making sure I turned out nothing like the headlines are saying I am."
He pulls back slightly so I can see his face — his eyes sharp and certain. "Hermione. You are not what they're saying. Not now. Not ever."
I blink fast. "They didn't even let me talk. My grandma kept saying, 'This isn't who we raised,' and Grandpa went on about the neighbors and church elders asking questions. They think I've lost my mind over you."
His lips twitch. "You have lost your mind over me. It's mutual."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Not helping."
Dylan smirks, but then something softens in his expression. "I told them I was in love with you."
My breath catches.
"I told them I respected you, that I admire the woman they raised… and that I plan to visit soon, with a proper introduction. I told them you're not alone in this, Hermione. You never will be again."
A silence stretches between us, fragile and full of heat and disbelief and more.
"Did you mean it?" I ask quietly. "All of it?"
His hand comes up to cradle my cheek.
"I've never meant anything more in my life."
I melt into his chest, the world falling away for the second time today. His heartbeat thuds beneath my ear. Safe. Certain. Mine.
He strokes my hair gently. "They're going to love me. Eventually."
"They're going to grill you."
"I've been interrogated by federal lawyers. I'll survive your grandma."
I laugh, a real one this time.
"And when they ask me what my intentions are," he adds, eyes dark and unreadable, "I'll tell them the truth — that I intend to make you my wife."
"Dylan—"
He kisses the words right off my lips — slow, full, certain. The kind of kiss that rewires time. That makes a promise without needing to speak it.
"I mean it," he murmurs, lips grazing mine. "You'll see."
We're still tangled up on the couch when the door bangs open.
"Mr. Voss, we have a situ—"
Adrian stops mid-word. Blinks. Turns pink. Then red.
"Oh my God—I didn't knock—I swear I didn't know you were—uh—sorry—Miss Vale—oh wow—I'll just—"
I sit up abruptly, but Dylan doesn't bother hiding his grin. He just keeps one arm around me, calm and smug as hell.
Adrian spins in place. "I'll come back—"
"Too late," Dylan says, not moving. "You're already in the middle of it."
I groan, dragging my hand down my face. "Please erase this moment from your memory."
"Trying. Not working. Anyway—uh—update."
Dylan gestures with one hand. "Out with it."
Adrian clears his throat, composing himself. "We've confirmed the photo wasn't leaked — it was sent. Elijah didn't find it; it was given to him. Privately."
"By who?" I whisper.
Adrian shakes his head. "We don't know yet. But this wasn't a random act. Someone close. Someone who wanted to humiliate her… specifically."
The air chills. I glance at Dylan.
He's no longer smiling.
"Find them," he says, voice like ice. "And when you do — I want every name they've ever texted, emailed, and sneezed near."
Adrian nods stiffly and hurries out, this time closing the door behind him with exaggerated care.
Dylan doesn't say anything right away.
He just pulls me closer.
"We'll get through this," he says finally. "Whoever's behind it — they picked the wrong woman. And the wrong man."