With shaking hands, I picked up the other ring, took Roman’s strong, battle-scarred hand, and slid the gold band into place, my fingers curling around his, refusing to let go.
“You mellow my hot temper.” My voice thickened with emotion, my lips curving in a teasing smile. “You are my sexy gladiator in this lifetime. Yes… we shall always find one another.”
A low, guttural sound rumbled from Roman’s throat, something primal, raw, hungry—and then we crashed together, our mouths meeting with a desperate, searing intensity.
It was not a kiss—it was a collision.
A supernova of need, an explosion of heat and longing, a force that seemed to split my soul open as we devoured each other, drowning in the power of us.
Tiny filaments of energy coiled and wrapped around us, an invisible binding, an inescapable tether. It overflowed from some ancient, otherworldly source, surging through our bodies like an unstoppable current, shaking me to my core.
I clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, the hard planes of his body pressing into me, every inch of me alive, aching for more.
We ripped apart, panting, our foreheads pressed together, our eyes locked in a battle of hunger and reverence.
I smiled, breathless. “Forever yours, Roman.”
He matched my smile, his thumb brushing over my swollen lips, his blue eyes dark and endless. “Forever yours, Olivia… my beautiful flame.”
His gaze returned to the final parcel resting on the bed, and the energy between us shifted—softer, heavier, filled with longing of a different kind.
“Here is your last gift.” His voice was quiet, almost reverent. “It’s a letter from your father.”
My heart stopped.
I reached for the silk-wrapped bundle, my fingers trembling as I pressed it to my chest, as if just holding it could pull him through time and space.
For a moment, I swore I could feel him—Papa—his presence wrapping around me like a warm embrace, as if we hugged in some ethereal realm, somewhere beyond this moment, beyond the limits of time and flesh.
I held onto that feeling, clutching it like a lifeline, letting it fill my hollow places.
But then curiosity took hold, and I carefully peeled apart the silk, my breath shallow and hesitant.
Inside, several sheets of folded paper rested, the ink dark and bold, the handwriting achingly familiar.
I smoothed the paper with my hand, my pulse pounding in my ears.
And then, I began to read.
Dear Olivia,
First and foremost, I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you and letting my fears close my eyes to what you deserved to know. I thought I was sheltering you, protecting you from the darkness that loomed over our lives. But I see now that I did it all wrong.
I should have armed you with knowledge, not left you in the dark. I should have told you who you truly are—so you could be ready for the battles that were always meant to come.
A circular water stain blurred the ink, and my heart clenched painfully. Had Papa been crying when he wrote this?
The thought shattered me.
Your mother and I… we were never meant to last. We loved each other in our own way, but the truth is, she never loved me the way I loved her. I tried—God, how I tried—to please and make her happy, but I was never enough.
More tear stains marred the words.
Your mother kept secrets—big ones. And over time, they grew like poison, tearing through the fragile thing we had built. But despite everything, she saved me from my darkness, from the edge of a cliff I nearly stepped off when I was at my lowest.
I will always be grateful to her for that.
But when she was murdered, I wanted to die all over again. I was lost and broken beyond repair.
