Chapter 52 | Always In Love

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[Ambrosia Bellemore]

"Okay, so the flowers are ready and the special surprise is in place, all you have to do is...smile, and not sweat so much." Freida says encouragingly, placing her hands on my shoulders.

"I'm fine." I huff, taking deep breaths.

"Yep, I believe you. Go take your position." She says. Caecelia is hidden behind a thick foliage, her 8 month pregnancy being the only thing stopping her from jumping about in excitement.

"Yo, Ambrosia? I called him saying it's an emergency. He'll be here, in say, about seven minutes." Timothy says, looking up. He lights up a orange flare and waves it in the air, then plops it into a bucket full of water. A thin, lanky figure waves at us from above.

"Go get your man, Ambrosia." Timothy smiles at me, and moves to join Caecelia. Freida gives a concerned look at the sky and joins them.

I take a deep breath, the kind where you feel the air hit the bottom of your lungs, and wait for the black Porsche to round the corner.

Exactly six minutes and forty three seconds later, and I know because I was counting, the Porsche comes, it's engine revving. Calum Achorn, probably panicked and impatient, jumps out of the car without switching it off and runs into the field.

He stops when he sees me standing in the middle of the clearing, wearing a bright green dress, which goes beautifully with the background.

"Emergency!" He gasps. "Timothy!"

"Calm down, Calum." I say, taking a few steps in his direction, smiling broadly.

"What?" He sputters, running a hand through his messy hair.

"There's no emergency," I say. "It was a part of the plan."

"Plan?" His face falls, and he looks at me, really looks at me for the first time.

"What are you doing here?" He deadpans.

"Enjoying the view," I deadpan, shrugging at my sorroundings.

"In a dress?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Totally my hiking outfit." I say, smiling. Despite himself, his lips tug into a smirk too.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his face neutral.

"Aha, not so soon, poppet." I say. Gesturing at the foliage behind which my friends were hidden, I say,"Bring in the chair, please."

Timothy, wearing a Dobby mask, rolls in the chair. Calum gives me an incredulous look.

"Tim? What the Hell? What are you doing?!"

"Dobby must not speak ill of his master," Timothy squeaks and walks away. There are little squeals of laughter from behind the foliage, but a second later, they abruptly stop.

"Sit," I order.

"I refuse to sit in a chair that says 'troll king'," Calum says, raising his chin stubbornly.

"Sit, Calum." I say again, and this time, he obliges.

"Good."

"Will you tell me what's going on, now?" He demands.

"I have a whole speech prepared. You cannot interrupt me for any reason, unless you need to pee, or there is a bear behind me. Understood?"

"Okay," He says, pouting. My heart swells for a second before I compose myself.

"All right," I say, taking another deep breath.

"Calum Achorn, some may know you as a cold hearted man who never pays his employees fairly," I begin.

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