"We," I whisper against his lips. "We will be yours."
A shudder runs through his massive body. He looks into my eyes, and in that instant, understanding crashes into him like a tidal wave.
The devastation vanishes, replaced by a look of such profound, blinding awe that it takes my breath away.
I look into his eyes and I see the future he is envisioning for us. I see the man who faced a gun, who got shot for me. And I see my own reflection, too—not a girl who needs saving but a woman who feels the safest in his arms.
"Della..." he breathes, his hand flexing possessively against my skin, coveringus.
Neither of us can find the words. They’re too small for this immense joy.
His mouth finds mine, desperate and worshiping, tasting of salt and salvation.
Our tears mix, blurring the line where he ends and I begin, sealing the only promise that matters.
We are finally, beautifully, alive.
Together.
In our sacred Universe of three.
Epilogue
5 years later
Della
Dellorian Creative Agency|Chicago
A dream born ten years ago is unfolding before my eyes.
I trace my fingers over the letters etched on the glass office door: Della Marshall, Managing and Creative Director. A wave of pride rises in my chest.
Dorian comes up behind me, placing his large, warm hand on my lower back.
“Congratulations, my love,” he murmurs, his voice vibrating through my spine. “You worked really hard for this.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Dorian” I say, turning in the circle of his arm. My eyes meet his—the same dark, intense gaze. “Thank you, my love.”
I place my palms over his wide chest, feeling his steady heartbeats through the black shirt and kiss him. A short, soft kiss loaded with love and gratitude.
He replies my kiss with a firm, possessive pull against him and I can feel every cell awaken in my body.
Dorian has been by my side for every step of this journey.
He travelled to Romania with me when I applied for my work visa. He mentioned—more than once—that it wasn’t necessary since we were getting married, but he understood why I needed to do it for myself. He wanted to see my world—my father, my hometown—and finally take the trip he once promised.
Even when morning sickness made the early hours a struggle, he was the one who drove me to the office every day. He insisted I should stay in bed and rest, but he never actually stopped me. He knew how much it meant to me to finish the projects I’d started at Silverline with Greg, before the baby arrived.
He didn’t always agree with my stubbornness, but he trusted me. He supported me.
He let me fly.
I absorb the Chicago skyline view and I know this isn’t just a career milestone.
This is the beginning of a new journey.
* * *
