Lucian Romano does not kneel.
For anyone.
He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small box.
Wrapped in a stupid red silk bow.
The ribbon is unmistakable.
I stare at it.
“You kept that?” I whisper.
His mouth curves faintly. “I thought it was symbolic.”
“Of what? Emotional trauma?”
He huffs softly. “Of beginnings.”
My throat tightens.
“I wanted to do at least one thing in order,” he says quietly.
The weight of that lands in my chest.
We did everything backwards.
Sex. Survival. Protection. Love.
So maybe?—
This is the right place to start again.
“Lucian,” I say softly.
He holds the box out to me. “Open it,” he murmurs.
My hands tremble slightly as I take it.
The silk is smooth beneath my fingers. Familiar.
A silver band shines at me from the black box.
Not flashy but elegant. Diamonds embedded directly into the metal, subtle and deliberate, catching the candlelight like frost.
My vision blurs for a second.
“You said once,” he says quietly, “that if we were normal, we’d meet in a coffee shop.”
I laugh weakly through the sting behind my eyes.
“I remember.”
“If we were normal,” he continues, “I would’ve taken you on proper dates before saying I loved you.”
“You did fine,” I whisper.
He swallows.
