Something New

I woke to the sound of birdsong drifting in through the open balcony door. A soft breeze ruffled the sheer curtains of the suite, and golden sunlight pooled at the foot of my bed like melted honey. Las Veritas was always generous with its beauty, but this morning felt different—quieter, gentler.

And I felt different too.

I sat up slowly, pulling the sheets around me as I gazed out the window. The hills were still cloaked in a light mist, the vineyard rows stretching endlessly in precise lines. The lake, now distant in the view, glistened beneath the rising sun. It felt surreal, like the setting of a dream I wasn't ready to wake from.

Except it had been real. The tour. The laughter. The touch.

Blake.

Last night's memories came flooding back—the sour grape incident, the way the vineyard owner saw right through our polite façade, the golden lake and the almost-hand-holding. I had let my guard down, and strangely, I didn't regret it. For the first time in this arrangement, I hadn't felt like I was playing a role or protecting something. I'd just... been.

He made it easy. Not by pretending everything was perfect, but by being unexpectedly present. Observant. Patient.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.

I wrapped a robe around myself and padded across the floor. When I opened the door, a hotel staff member stood there with a large bouquet of white tulips.

"For you, Mrs. Aldridge," he said with a smile, handing me the arrangement along with a sealed envelope.

"Thank you."

I closed the door and returned to the suite, heart beating just a little faster. I placed the tulips on the table and opened the envelope.

Celine,

I know we came here for business. I didn't expect it to feel like more. Thank you for yesterday—for choosing to come, for choosing to stay.

There's more I want to say. Let me take you out again. No schedules. No expectations. Just us.

—Blake

I read the note three times. Each time, my chest tightened in the same way. It wasn't just the words. It was the fact that he wrote them. That he acknowledged what had changed between us without pressuring it into something it wasn't ready to be.

I hadn't dated much—hardly at all, actually. School, training, boardrooms, succession plans—they'd consumed my life. There had been no time for teenage romances or young adult flings. I had always been unreachable, untouchable by design.

But Blake wasn't trying to break down my walls. He was knocking softly, waiting, showing me the kind of patience no one else ever had.

And now he was asking—not assuming—for time.

I touched the petals of the tulips, marveling at how delicately chosen they were. Not roses. Not lilies. But tulips—quiet, graceful, honest. Like the evening we shared.

I slipped the note into the drawer of the vanity and began getting ready. Today, we had another strategy session, followed by a mid-afternoon call with both corporate headquarters, and then… nothing. Our schedule was clear.

As I styled my hair and applied my makeup, I found myself humming—a small, tuneless hum that made me freeze when I noticed it.

I never hummed.

I shook my head, smirking to myself. Maybe Las Veritas really was enchanted.

Downstairs, Blake was already waiting in the breakfast lounge. He stood when I approached, something warm and wordless passing between us.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," I replied, taking a seat beside him instead of across from him.

The gesture wasn't lost on either of us.

Over breakfast, we talked—not about business, but about the vineyard, the lake, even the basilica. He asked what my mother had thought of the place, and I told him about the trip I'd barely remembered until yesterday.

"She bought this small bottle of lavender oil," I recalled. "Said it was the smell of peace. She used to dab it on her wrists before every big speech or decision."

Blake nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you should find a bottle today."

"Maybe I will."

After breakfast, we moved through the day's tasks smoothly, professionally. But something in our tone had shifted. The glances lasted longer. The silences were more comfortable. When our hands brushed while reaching for the same pen, neither of us flinched.

At 4:00 p.m., the last meeting ended.

And I knew he was going to ask.

"I found a little restaurant on the far end of the lake," Blake said as we left the conference room. "They serve fresh pasta and light wine. Very off-the-radar."

I hesitated, but only for a moment.

"I'll go get ready."

His smile was more than just charming. It was relieved.

As I returned to my suite, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. My expression was soft. Brighter.

It wasn't love.

Not yet.

But something had started.

And for the first time since this arrangement began, I wasn't afraid of it.