Chapter 409 - 409: I Love You, Jane. [FIXED!][15/06!]

The limousine pulled up to a discreet entrance on a quiet street in Knightsbridge. No flashing signs, no velvet ropes, no paparazzi. Just a single brass plaque beside an unmarked door: Core by Clare Smyth.

Jane's heart hammered against her ribs.

"This is it," Kyle said.

"This is... subtle."

"That's how you know it's expensive."

The driver opened the door. Kyle stepped out first, then offered Jane his hand.

"Well, my lady, would you do me the honor?"

Jane giggled as she took it, her fingers trembling slightly, and emerged onto the cobblestone pavement.

The door opened before they could knock.

A host in a tailored black suit greeted them with a warm but professional smile. "Mr. Kyle. Welcome. Your table is ready."

Jane blinked. "They know his name even without introducing himself?"

They were led inside—past a small, elegant bar, through a corridor lined with abstract art, into the main dining room. The space was intimate, bathed in soft amber light. White tablecloths, fresh flowers, and the quiet murmur of wealthy patrons speaking in low voices.

And then they reached the table.

It was in the corner, tucked against a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked a private garden. The best seat in the house—the one reserved for VIPs, for celebrities, for the kind of people who didn't need to ask for special treatment because special treatment was the default.

Jane stopped walking.

"The last guests just left," the host explained, pulling out Jane's chair. "We had the table prepared fresh for your arrival."

Kyle nodded. "Thank you."

Jane sat down slowly, her eyes sweeping across the room. Crystal chandeliers, fresh roses on every table, and waiters in crisp white jackets moving with silent precision.

"I am so out of my depth," Jane thought to herself.

She looked down at her dress—light blue, modest, the kind of thing she bought at a department store compared to what these women were wearing. It had felt perfect in the hotel room. Now, surrounded by women in designer gowns and diamonds, she felt like a ghost.

"I don't belong here."

She glanced at Kyle, expecting him to be looking at someone else. A beautiful woman at the bar, or D-list celebrity at a nearby table. Anyone but her.

But Kyle wasn't looking at anyone else.

His eyes were fixed on her, solely on her. He didn't glance away, not once, not for a second. His gaze followed her as she settled into her chair, as she adjusted her napkin, as she reached for her water glass.

And he was smiling.

Not a smirk or a polite grin. A real smile, soft and warm, like he was watching something precious.

"He's giddy," Jane realized. "He's actually giddy."

"Kyle," she whispered.

"Hmm?" Kyle mumbled.

"You're staring," Jane pointed out.

"I know," Kyle responded.

"It's making me nervous," Jane confessed.

"Good." He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "You should know how beautiful you are."

Jane's cheeks flushed. "I'm not—"

"You are." He didn't let her finish. "And I'm tired of you not believing it."

She looked away, overwhelmed. The restaurant, the limousine, the way he was looking at her—it was too much. But underneath the overwhelm, something else stirred.

Safety.

She loved the way she was feeling right now, it made her feel like a teenager who just found her first love.

She felt safe. Not because the restaurant was exclusive or the table was perfect. Because Kyle was here. Because he wasn't looking at anyone else. Because his eyes said you matter even when her own reflection said otherwise.

A waiter appeared at the table. Young, professional, a leather-bound menu in his hand.

"Good evening. My name is Daniel, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. May I start you both with something to drink?"

Jane opened her mouth, but Kyle spoke first.

"The only thing I want on that menu is sitting right in front of me."

Jane's breath caught.

"It wasn't a sexual joke," she realized. "He's not being crude. He's being honest."

The waiter picked up on this instantly as well.

"So," Kyle continued, "I'll let her order for both of us. We'll be eating from each other's plate anyway."

The waiter hesitated. It was a strange request—unorthodox, against the restaurant's typical service style. Couples ordered separately as to have their fill. Anything else was sure to draw glances from the others in the restaurant.

But Kyle didn't give a fuck.

He was a billionaire. Not because he flashed money—he didn't. But because he had earned the right to exist in spaces like this without apologizing for who he was.

The waiter recovered quickly. "Of course, sir. Madam?" He turned to Jane. "Shall I describe the tasting menu?"

Jane's mind raced. "He wants me to order. For both of us. From a three-Michelin-star restaurant I've never been to."

She took a breath.

"The tasting menu," she said. "With the wine pairing. But can we substitute the oyster course? I don't eat shellfish."

"Certainly. Chef will prepare something special."

Jane nodded, surprised by her own confidence. "And champagne. Not for the pairing—just to start."

"An excellent choice."

The waiter disappeared.

Jane looked at Kyle. He was still smiling. Still staring and focused entirely on her.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing." He reached across the table and took her hand. "I just like watching you be brave."

"I'm not brave."

"You just ordered for me at the best restaurant in London without flinching. That's brave."

Jane laughed—soft, shy, real.

"Shut up," she said.

Kyle squeezed her hand.

"Make me."

The champagne arrived. Two flutes, golden and bubbling. Kyle raised his glass.

"To Jane," he said.

"To Jane," Jane echoed, laughing at herself.

They drank. The bubbles were crisp, cold, perfect.

And it was that easy for Kyle to make Jane forgot to feel like she was out of place.

Kyle couldn't explain it what he was feeling right now.

He didn't have the words for it. The English language, for all its millions of terms, didn't contain a phrase that could capture what he felt right now. Sitting across from Jane. Watching the candlelight play across her face. Seeing her smile—that shy, hesitant, genuine smile that she didn't give to anyone else.

"This is it."

His entire body relaxed. The tension he carried—the constant, low-grade hum of anxiety that lived in his shoulders, his jaw, his chest—simply evaporated. Like it had never been there at all.

He had said those magic words to her before. The three letter words that seemed to hold so much power in this world. And he had meant it but deep down, his body was yet to catch up to those words.

Kyle knew he felt differently about Jane since the first time he met her but this confirmed something deep within him for a man who focused on logic when it came to such things.

Looking at her now—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her fingers traced the rim of her champagne flute, the way she looked at him like he was something worth looking at—his body finally caught up to his mouth.

"This is actual love. I get it now."

Kyle had never been sure what love was. He thought, for a long time, that love was an act of violence. Because that was how he was raised. His mother—abusive, cruel, unpredictable—had taught him that love was something you endured. Something that hurt, something that left scars.

She would scream at him until her voice gave out, then hold him close and whisper that she loved him. She would strike him across the face, then cry and say it was because she cared.

That was never love and for so long, Kyle had to convince himself it was or he wouldn't be able to face the bitter truth that his mother didn't love him.

He knew that now. Sitting here, in this quiet restaurant, watching Jane exist peacefully across from him.

This was love. This softness, and safety. This moment where neither of them needed to perform or pretend or protect themselves.

This is how love was meant to be. All along.

Kyle reached across the table and took her hand.

"Jane," he said.

She looked up from her plate. "Yeah?"

He opened his mouth and knew he needed to say these words again from the depths of his soul.

"I need to tell you something."

Jane's brow furrowed, but she didn't pull away. "You're scaring me."

"Don't be scared." He traced his thumb across her knuckles. "I just..." Kyle hesitated which was unusual considering he had already saod the words he wanted to say to her in the past.

Jane waited as Kyle took a breath.

"I love you so much, Jane."

The words hung in the air between them. S

Jane didn't speak. She just looked at him—really looked—like she was searching for something. He had said these words to her before but why did this feel so different?

The way he looked at her, it was like he was on the verge of tears.

Her eyes glistened.

"I love you too, Kyle," she said.

And then she smiled. Not her shy smile. Not her hesitant smile. The real one—the one she kept hidden, the one that made her whole face glow.

Kyle smiled back.

The waiter appeared with the next course. Neither of them noticed.

They just sat there, holding hands across the table, letting the moment stretch into something neither of them would forget.

"This is love," Kyle thought again.