"And if I change my mind?" I had to ask, even though I already knew the answer.
"You won't." His smile was soft but certain. "But even if you tried, I'd convince you otherwise. I'll always convince you otherwise."
He pulled me down onto the bed beside him, his arms wrapping around me like I might disappear if he let go.
"I want to marry you," he said against my hair.
My breath caught. "What?"
"Not tomorrow. Not next week. But soon." He pulled back to look at me. "I want you to be my wife. Want everyone to know you belong to me. Want it to be official in every way that matters."
"That's insane."
"Probably." He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. "But you're going to say yes anyway."
And the terrifying thing was, he was right.
I was going to say yes.
Because somewhere along the way, I'd stopped wanting normal. Stopped wanting safe and conventional and easy.
I wanted this.
Wanted him.
Wanted the intensity and the obsession and the certainty that I would always be the center of someone's entire world.
"Okay," I whispered.
"Okay what?"
"Okay, I'll marry you."
His smile was devastating, beautiful, completely unguarded in a way I'd never seen before.
"Good," he murmured, pulling me closer. "Because I already bought the ring."
I laughed despite myself. "Of course you did."
"It's in my desk drawer. Has been for weeks." His hand slid through my hair, gentle and possessive. "I knew you'd say yes eventually. You just needed time to accept it."
We lay there in the darkness, tangled together, and I felt something settle in my chest. Not quite peace, but close.
This was my life now.
This man who'd stalked me, manipulated me, terrified me, loved me.
And I was choosing it.
Choosing him.
Forever.
"Lena?" His voice was soft in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
