*Isabella's POV*
Then suddenly, in perfect sync, both of them dropped to one knee. My heart just about stopped. A collective gasp went through the few people still standing nearby, but the world narrowed to just the two of them, looking up at me with such raw, open hope it made my chest ache.
"Isabella..." Damien began, his voice, usually so controlled and steady, was thick with emotion.
"...we love you beyond measure," Jacob continued, his eyes shining brightly.
"Oh my god, stand up now, you two," I hissed, my face flushing a deep, mortified red. "This balcony is not secluded. People can see us!" I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes on us.
"Don't worry about it," Damien said, his gaze never leaving mine, his expression utterly serious.
"We don't care about anyone else," Jacob added with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"You're our lover, our queen, our everything," Damien said, his voice a low, possessive rumble.
"Will you marry us?" they both said in perfect, fucking unison. Jacob flicked open a small, velvet ring box, revealing a stunning diamond that glittered under the fairy lights.
"How can I marry both of you? Is that even legal?" I asked hesitantly, my mind immediately jumping to the practicalities, the only way it knew how to process this overwhelming, insane moment.
"Don't worry about that now," Damien said, his voice firm but gentle.
"Just say you want to be ours forever," Jacob pleaded, his eyes searching mine.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, the last of my resistance crumbling under the weight of their combined love. "I do... yes... I'll marry you," I said, the words a joyful, tearful sob.
With that, they both stood up. Damien pulled me into a kiss, possessive and dominating, a raw, public claim that left me breathless. Then he passed me to Jacob, who claimed my lips with a passionate, gentle kiss that was full of a worshipful tenderness that made my knees weak.
"My fiancées," I said, a dizzy, happy laugh escaping me as Jacob slipped the cool, heavy diamond ring onto my finger. It felt perfect.
"This is amazing, but can we really do this?" I asked, a flicker of reality returning.
"Not legally," Damien said, his tone flat.
"But that doesn't mean that our goddess doesn't deserve to be a queen for a day," Jacob said with a dramatic flourish.
"A goddess, a queen for a day?" I asked, a bit confused. "You'll never cease to amaze me."
"You deserve to be a bride, Isabella," Damien said, his voice soft. "Even if the wedding won't be a real, legitimate one."
"That doesn't make it less of a wedding," Jacob insisted.
"I guess you're right," I said, the logic finally clicking into place. "A wedding is a symbol of a union. I want to be with you both, and I don't need a certificate for that."
"That's our girl," Jacob said, beaming.
"When is the best time to do this, and where?" Damien asked.
"Oh, I know," Jacob said, his eyes lighting up with a familiar, mischievous glint. "But you guys have to give me some time to put everything in order. How does it sound to have our wedding on a private island?"
"A private island? What private island?" I asked, my jaw dropping.
"I may or may not have overdone it a few years back with a purchase," Jacob replied nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why in the hell did you buy a private island?" Damien asked, his voice a mix of exasperation and curiosity.
"I didn't know back then, but I think I know now," Jacob said, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "To have our wedding there... and our honeymoon." He finished with a wink.
"That doesn't sound bad," I said, my mind already picturing it.
"He wasn't joking about the honeymoon," Damien sighed, shaking his head. "He's gonna make us stay there for a month."
"Of course," Jacob laughed.
"Hey, you stay there for a month," I teased, poking him in the chest. "I'm not unemployed like you are."
And with that, they both laughed, a rich, happy sound that was the only music I ever wanted to hear.
A few months later, I stood in front of the mirror in a fluffy white robe, the morning sun of Jacob's private island streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. We were in a stunning villa perched on a cliff overlooking a turquoise sea that was so perfect it looked like a painting.
Elly was in the room with me, of course, making a nuisance of herself as usual. I stared at my reflection, my hands trembling slightly. A swarm of nervous butterflies was having a fucking mosh pit in my stomach.
"You should've hired a proper stylist or something," Elly said, inspecting her nails with feigned boredom. "I'm not helping you, it's not my fucking duty to do so."
I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain. "Will you shut the fuck up and help me into this dress?" I said, pointing at the white gown that was laid out on the bed like a dream.
"I'm not the maid of honour," she declared, puffing out her chest. "I'm the officiant, bitch." She then broke into a terribly off-key song, "Who's the officiant? This bitch!" and I couldn't help but laugh at her goofiness.
"I do have a stylist, but I wanted you," I said, my voice softening. "You're my favourite."
"Oh my god, you're such a Minx," she said, her mock-annoyance melting into a wide grin. "Is that how you got your claws on both Lancaster brothers?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
I just winked in response.
Elly, finally taking pity on me, held the dress open. I stepped out of my robe and into it, the cool, silky fabric a whisper against my skin. It was a white strapless princess gown with a sweetheart neckline and a flowing skirt that flew out around me, giving me a regal, fucking princess look.
The stylist chose that moment to bustle in and get to work on my hair and makeup. When she was done, I looked at my reflection and was genuinely stunned. The woman staring back was a stranger, a goddess, a bride.
"I must say, your looks helped too," Elly teased, coming up behind me.
"You're the most beautiful bride I've ever married," Elly said, her voice suddenly thick with emotion.
"Am I not the first bride you've ever married?" I asked, giggling.
"You are, but that's not the fucking point," she said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Chop, chop," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. "Let's go marry off that cute ass of yours."