“Ahead? Are you serious?”
“The definitive agreement’s locked,” he says. “Johan signed off an hour ago. Peter’s attorneys caved on the last stickingclause. We go to signature packet in the morning and file with the SEC by Friday. That’s it. We’re done.”
A little thrill runs through me. Relief, pride, triumph. We’d been close to getting Johan to agree before, but the Peter factor threatened to complicate things. He could’ve made things very, very hard for us if he’d wanted to.
But he didn’t. It’s done.
“So we did it. We actually did it.”
“Youdid it,” he corrects. “I just wrote checks and signed off when I needed to. This isyourbaby. So, in that sense, I suppose you’re having triplets.”
That gets a snort and a smirk out of me. “I see the dad humor is coming along nicely. But this wasn’t a solo job. The whole staff played a role.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he looks at me for a long, quiet beat, something shifting in his eyes. The amusement drains out, leaving something raw. He stands and walks around the desk slowly. When he stops in front of me, we’re close enough that I can smell his cologne—a dark, clean, woodsy scent I associate with safety and danger all at the same time.
“Sasha?” I ask. The silence is starting to feel heavy, like he has another confession for me.
He lifts his hand, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers linger at my jaw. “Do you know what tonight is?” he asks quietly.
“Wednesday? No, Friday? God, I’ve lost track again.”
He shakes his head. “Four months from the day you tried to quit.”
“You’ve kept track?”
“Absolutely. Why would I ever forget the day we conceived our children?” He glances around me. “I remember before you came in. I was in the middle of hating myself for wanting you so badly. I was so goddamn turned on. Just the sound of your voice was enough to make me hard.”
That gives me another flash of tingles—but, this time, between my thighs.
“Anyway,” he says. “The look on your face when you stormed in, before you noticed what I was doing, I was certain you were going to tell me to screw off and never come back.”
“I was.”
He chuckles. “Instead,” he says, thumb stroking my cheekbone, “that’s the night we began.”
My heart’s beating so hard that I’m starting to get a little lightheaded. “Why do I feel like you didn’t call me in here to talk about timestamps.”
He exhales, the sound shaky in a way I’ve never heard from him. “I called you in,” he says, “because I can’t go into this next part of my life without saying something I should’ve said a long time ago.”
“Sasha—”
“I love you, Gabriella,” he says. “I love you in ways that make no sense for a man like me. I love you enough that I would let myself be weak in front of you. I love you enough that I would put a bullet in my head before letting anyone else touch a hair on yours.”
Tears arrive so quickly in my eyes that it’s a little embarrassing. “You’re late,” I say weakly. “You’re supposed to say that before any life-threatening abductions or gunfights.”
He laughs. “I am late. I am. I’m late, and I haven’t treated you the way you deserve. I’ve lied to you. Lost my temper like an animal in front of you. Failed to protect you when I should have.” He swallows, hard. “I’m ashamed of how long it took me to be to be worthy of saying this to you.”
A single tear escapes. He catches it with his thumb, cursing under his breath in Russian. “I don’t know if I deserve you,” he says. “But I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of your love.”
My chest hurts in a wonderful and terrible way. “Sasha,” I whisper, “you big dramatic idiot. I love you, too. You don’t need to prove a damn thing.”
“Perhaps. But I hope you do accept this particular proof.”
He steps away for just long enough to move to his desk. He opens the top drawer, pulls something out, then comes back.
It’s a ring, a simple platinum band with a solitaire diamond so beautiful, I can’t help but gasp, my fingers shooting to my lips.
He doesn’t kneel. Instead, he takes my left hand, holding it between both of his.
