Chapter 3: First Outing

The soft hum of tires against cobblestone filled the silence as Valentine’s car pulled into the private entrance of the Bellamont Vineyard. Nestled on the outskirts of the city, it was a place most people didn’t even know existed—elegant, quiet, and dripping with old-world charm.

Valentine stepped out first, his tall figure dressed in charcoal slacks and a pale grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, effortlessly refined. He walked around the car and opened the door for Evelyn.

Her hand slipped into his as she stepped out, the contact brief but warm. She wore a flowy, floral midi dress paired with cream sandals and minimal makeup—fresh and simple, yet stunning.

“I didn’t know vineyards could be this quiet,” she murmured, glancing around at the rolling green hills. The breeze lifted a few strands of her hair.

“It’s privately owned. No tourists,” he replied. “I thought you might like something peaceful.”

He remembers I hate crowds.

“You were right,” she admitted, folding her arms gently over her chest. “This is... nice.”

He offered a small smile. “Let’s walk.”

The gravel path wound between rows of grapevines, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Birds chirped from nearby trees, and the only other human in sight was the distant figure of a caretaker tending vines.

“How did you even find this place?” Evelyn asked, her voice relaxed now.

“My mother brought me here once,” he said. “Back when things were simpler.”

Her steps slowed. “Before the divorce?”

He nodded once. “She said this was her escape.”

Evelyn glanced up at him. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on the vineyard, but his voice held something deeper—nostalgia, maybe. Or pain, carefully hidden.

He doesn’t talk about the past easily.

But with me, he does.

They reached a small sitting area—an old stone bench under a blooming wisteria arch. The scent was sweet and calming.

He gestured. “Sit?”

She nodded, and they both took their place, the air between them charged but quiet.

“Why now?” she asked suddenly.

He turned toward her, brow slightly furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why agree to this marriage?”

There it was. Direct. Honest.

Valentine paused.

Because I’ve loved you since I was too young to understand the word. Because you’ve always been the reason I tried to be more than I was.

But aloud, he said calmly, “Because I wanted to see if something good could come back around.”

She tilted her head, watching him. “You always say things like that. Half a truth.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Would you believe the full one if I said it?”

She hesitated. No... I wouldn’t know what to do with it.

Instead, she gave a small smile. “Maybe one day.”

Later, a private wine tasting was arranged in the vineyard’s cellar. Candlelight danced off the stone walls as the sommelier poured a deep red into their glasses and quietly stepped away.

Evelyn swirled her glass slowly. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Valentine’s eyes held hers. “Do I need to?”

She laughed lightly, lowering the glass. “Confident, aren’t you?”

“Only with you.”

Her heart skipped, and she looked away quickly.

Why does he say things like that? It feels like flirting—but it’s not playful. It’s sincere. Dangerous.

They tasted the wine slowly, and time passed unnoticed. At some point, Evelyn turned slightly, resting her elbow on the table.

“You’re not like I imagined you’d be.”

“No?”

“I thought you’d be cold. Unreachable. But you’re... gentle. Strange, but gentle.”

Valentine watched her, his throat tightening. Her voice, the way her lips curled when she teased him—it was all too much and yet not enough.

“You see more than most.”

Even if you don’t see the whole truth.

She looked down at her hands. “Do you want this marriage to work?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation.

She looked up.

“Even if we’re starting from zero?”

He reached forward, just slightly—his hand grazing hers. Warm. Careful.

“Especially then.”

Their eyes locked again, and Evelyn couldn’t breathe for a second.

The tension hung between them, rich and unspoken.

On the ride back, silence took on a new meaning.

Evelyn leaned against the window, watching the dusky hills roll by. Her heart felt full but confused.

He’s kind. Considerate. Safe.

But he looks at me like I belong to him. And I don’t know how to feel about that.

She glanced sideways. Valentine’s hands were on the steering wheel, steady and calm. But his jaw was tense, his focus sharp.

“You’re quiet,” she said softly.

“So are you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He finally glanced at her, then back at the road.

“I’m trying not to want too much too soon.”

Her breath caught again.

She turned fully in her seat, staring at him.

“Want what?”

He didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to.

But because if he said it now, it would be too much.

So he gave her something gentler instead.

“A real beginning.”

When they arrived back at the Moreau estate, Elijah was waiting in the hallway with a smug grin.

“Well?” he asked.

Evelyn brushed past him with flushed cheeks. “Ask me tomorrow.”

She disappeared upstairs, her footsteps echoing.

Valentine moved past him in silence.

“You didn’t tell her,” Elijah noted under his breath.

“Not yet.”

“You planning to?”

Valentine glanced up the stairs.

“Only when she’s ready to hear it.”

In her room, Evelyn stared at herself in the mirror.

Her lips were slightly parted. Her cheeks still warm.

She touched her wrist where his hand had brushed hers hours ago, feeling it all over again.

He didn’t try to kiss me. Didn’t say anything outrageous. But somehow, it still felt... like more.

I think he really wants this.

And, strangely enough...

I think I might want it too.

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