Caprice - Marry Me File

She didn’t say “yes.” She didn’t say “no.”

And when the justice—such as he was—said, “You may kiss the bride,” Caprice grabbed Leo by the tie and kissed him like a sudden storm.

“You know,” she said quietly, “I’ve always hated the word ‘obey.’”

Leo grinned. That was better than forever. That was a promise renewed by choice, not by contract. caprice - marry me

“I’m always thinking,” Leo replied.

She was smiling now, a slow, dangerous smile. “So what are you asking?”

“You’re more of a… beautiful, chaotic wrecking ball,” he offered. She didn’t say “yes

Her name was Caprice.

“And I refuse to be anyone’s ‘ball and chain.’”

Caprice stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him. For a terrifying second, she looked genuinely uncertain—a rare sight, like a solar eclipse. That was a promise renewed by choice, not by contract

Leo set down the champagne. His heart, usually a steady metronome, was now a timpani drum. He had rehearsed this. For weeks. He had a speech about stability, about building a foundation, about the logical next step. He had a backup speech about passion, about how she made his spreadsheets feel like poetry. He had a third speech that was just bullet points.

So he abandoned the plan.

“Not in my version,” Leo said.