My phone buzzes.
Nadia
Stop scowling. I can feel it from here.
Where is here exactly?
Nadia
Patience is a virtue, mountain man.
Patience is for people who aren't waiting on bratty submissives who can't tell time.
Nadia
Careful. That kind of talk might make me do something you have to punish me for later.
Always with the promises.
I pocket my phone and take another sip of whiskey, trying not to smile. A year ago, I walked into this bar dreading another Valentine's Day of fending off matchmakers and enduring pitying looks from coupled-up acquaintances.
Now I'm counting the seconds until my girlfriend walks through the door.
Partner. She hates when I call her my girlfriend. Says it sounds too casual for what we are. But fiancée still feels premature, even though the ring has been burning a hole in my pocket for three months.
The door opens, and my breath catches the same way it did the first time I saw her.
Nadia walks in wearing a deep red dress that hugs every curve I've memorized with my hands and mouth over the past twelve months. Her braids are swept up, exposing the elegant line of her neck. And resting against her collarbone, catching the candlelight, is the silver key I gave her the night she agreed to stay.
She hasn't taken it off since.
"Sorry I'm late." She slides onto the stool beside me and presses a kiss to my cheek. "Your brother wouldn't stop talking about the Vancouver expansion."
"Which brother?"
"Flynn. He cornered me at the office with spreadsheets." She signals to Silas for her usual. "I think he's more excited about the new contracts than you are."
"Flynn gets excited about spreadsheets. It's concerning."
"It's adorable." She accepts her wine with a grateful smile. "He also mentioned something about Sunday dinner? Apparently Declan is bringing a date."
"Declan is always bringing a date. They never last more than two weeks."
"This one's different, according to Flynn. A chef from Vancouver who's opening a restaurant in town." Nadia raises her eyebrows. "Apparently she's immune to his grumpy charm."
"No one is immune to Ridge charm."
"I wasn't." She clinks her glass against mine. "Look where that got me."
I look at her. Really look. The woman who walked into this bar a year ago was sharp edges and defensive humor, hiding her wounds behind wit and expensive shoes. The woman beside me now is softer somehow. Not less sharp, never that. But more open. More willing to let herself be seen.
We did that together. Stripped away each other's armor piece by piece until what was left was something real. Something worth fighting for.
"I have something for you." I reach into my jacket pocket, fingers brushing the velvet box I've been carrying for weeks. "Close your eyes."
"If this is another pair of noise-canceling headphones because you think I talk too much during your work calls?—"
"You do talk too much during my work calls. But that's not what this is." I wait until her eyes close, then pull out the box and set it on the bar between us. "Okay. Open."
