Chapter 10
961words
James found himself increasingly dissatisfied with their current arrangement. The roles of "supportive fan" and "business associate" had become painfully inadequate. He wanted—needed—something official, something that would give him the right to stand beside her openly, to care for her without pretense.
Once acknowledged, this desire consumed him, growing more urgent with each passing day.
He spent weeks in careful preparation, deploying his considerable resources with unprecedented attention to detail, determined to create a moment that would be worthy of her brilliance.
The newly opened Celestial Observatory and Art Center—a architectural marvel that had already won international awards—was his chosen venue. He secured exclusive access for an entire evening and assembled a team of world-class designers to transform the space according to his exacting vision.
The observatory's main dome became an immersive cosmic experience. The state-of-the-art projection system displayed not just any starry sky, but the exact celestial configuration from the night Sophia received news of her Fields Medal—every star and planet precisely positioned as they had been on that pivotal evening.
The floor, treated with a revolutionary reflective material, mirrored the celestial display perfectly, creating the illusion of walking through infinite space. The air carried the subtle fragrance of white jasmine—a scent he'd noticed her pause to appreciate during a garden walk months earlier.
Emma had orchestrated Sophia's arrival under the guise of a private viewing of a mathematical visualization exhibition. When Sophia stepped into the transformed space, wearing a simple white dress that seemed to capture and reflect the starlight, she stopped mid-stride, momentarily speechless.
The stars seemed to rain down around her, bathing her in gentle blue-white light. As she took in the familiar constellation patterns—her constellations from that night—understanding dawned in her eyes, and with it, a flutter of anticipation.
The projected stars began to shift, forming a subtle pathway of brighter light. Following it with curious steps, she rounded a curved wall to find James waiting in a small clearing of space, surrounded by actual stars and their reflections.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that seemed to absorb the surrounding starlight, making him appear as though he were part of the cosmic display itself.
But his face—usually a mask of controlled confidence—now displayed raw vulnerability, a nervousness so genuine it was almost endearing.
Behind him stood an elegant display case, its glass doors open to reveal not precious gems or art as one might expect, but a meticulously preserved collection: her first scientific publication in an undergraduate journal, programs from academic conferences where she'd presented, even a ticket stub from an obscure theatrical production she'd participated in during her university days.
Each item was preserved with museum-quality care, arranged chronologically to create a timeline of her journey.
James drew a steadying breath and moved toward her, his eyes never leaving hers. When he spoke, his voice carried a depth of emotion she'd never heard from him before:
"This is the archive of my admiration—the physical evidence of how completely you've captured my attention from the very beginning."
He gestured toward the collection, then returned his gaze to her face with an intensity that made the air between them seem to vibrate. His eyes, usually calculating and controlled, now held nothing but raw honesty.
"These objects have charted my journey from distant observer to someone who dared to hope for a place in your orbit. Each one marks a moment when I found myself drawn further into your gravity."
He hesitated briefly, visibly gathering his resolve, then continued with deliberate care, each word weighted with significance:
"Sophia, I'm not standing before you as a fan club president, or an investor, or even as the CEO of Trent Corporation. I'm here simply as James, asking if you might consider granting me the privilege of standing beside you—not behind you in support or across from you in admiration, but truly beside you, as your equal, your partner, for as long as you'll have me."
His voice remained steady, but his hands—those hands that signed billion-dollar contracts without hesitation—trembled slightly at his sides. He stood perfectly still after speaking, as though movement might break the spell of the moment. The artificial stars continued their slow dance around them, but the real illumination came from the naked hope in his expression.
Sophia studied him carefully—this titan of industry who commanded global markets with a word, now standing before her with the vulnerable sincerity of someone who had laid all his defenses aside. The careful calculation that defined his business persona had been completely abandoned in favor of simple, unadorned truth.
She thought of his early awkward attempts at support, his excessive but well-intentioned gestures, the way he'd learned to give her exactly what she needed rather than what would impress her. She remembered his poorly disguised jealousy, his fierce protection during the scandal, the way his family had embraced her as though she already belonged…
All these moments had accumulated silently, like individual stars forming a constellation that she could now see clearly for the first time—a pattern of genuine care that had gradually, almost imperceptibly, bypassed her carefully constructed defenses.
She didn't rush to answer. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, a smile slowly spreading across her face—not her public smile or her polite smile, but something genuine and warm that reached her eyes, making them sparkle more brilliantly than the artificial cosmos surrounding them.
"James Trent," she finally said, her voice carrying a warmth he'd rarely heard directed at him, "you have the most extraordinary approach to courtship I've ever encountered."
