“Show me.”
He leads me down the hallway, his grip firm and steady like he already knows what I’m going to do. Like he knows my knees are about to turn to water.
He opens the double doors, and all the air rushes out of my lungs. The first thing that hits me is the scent. The aftershave that floods me with safety.
“You said you wanted a lifetime supply of that scent. Well, the guy who makes it lives out here, so we have as much of it as you need,” he whispers.
Now, it’s not so much about dragging me out of the dark when the panic grips me. It’s more about reminding me that even in the worst times, Drago was always there. That I am safe.
“Thank you,” I tell him, not being able to stop myself from stepping inside the room.
Every wall is lined with mirrors. A barre runs the length of the room. A ballet space. A sanctuary. Except one wall has a gap… and in the centre of it hangs a piece of his art, like a heartbeat.
I step closer slowly.
And then I see it.
A drawing of us.
Drago down on one knee, holding out a ring box, and me with my hands over my mouth like I can’t believe the world has finally given me something good.
He captured it perfectly.
The way we look at each other. The way we collide. The way webelong.
My throat closes.
A sob catches on my tongue.
“D-Drago…” I whisper.
“Lastochka.”
I turn. And my heart nearly stops.
Because he’s already down on one knee, just like the art, smiling up at me, holding out a box in his hand like he’s been born for this moment.
“Lily Morozova,” he says, voice thick, eyes shining in that way that tells me he’s barely holding himself together. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”
My lips tremble.
He swallows hard. “Will you marry me?” he pauses, taking in a breath. “Please.”
I nod instantly, before words can even form.
And then he opens the box.
A huge oval diamond sparkles in the center, surrounded by tiny blue crystals on a silver band—like the sea. Like Monaco. Like the life he’s trying to give me.
“Words, baby,” he grins.
But his eyes…
His eyes are full of everything real.
“Yes,” I choke out, laughing through tears. “Yes. Infinity times, yes!”
He’s up on his feet in seconds, his hand around my throat, not tight, just there, anchoring me, and his mouth crashes onto mine like he’s been starving.
