I stand there one more second, chest tight, rage still humming under my skin. Then I turn, shove the kitchen door open, and step back inside.
I push the bedroom door open quietly.
Alena is on the bed, knees pulled up, phone held high in both hands. The screen glows with Lucy’s face—mouth open in mid-scream.
“—BLACK DIAMOND? Alena! Oh my GOD! Show me again—closer—closer! Holy shit, that thing is huge! It’s so dark it’s basically black-hole energy! He remembered? You told him once, like ten years ago, and he actually remembered?!”
Alena is laughing so hard she’s gasping, turning her hand left and right so the ring catches the morning sun pouring through the curtains. “Yes! One time! I was drunk off my ass at that shitty Soho bar, ranting about how I’d only marry someone who brought me a black diamond, and he just… filed it away. Look at it, Luce—it’s massive and evil and perfect.”
Lucy shrieks again, clapping her hands like she’s at a concert. “I’m literally screaming into my pillow right now! Marcus, come look—your brother is a psycho romantic! Alena, you’re getting married! To Drogo! To the actual mafia monster! This is insane—I’m crying, I’m so happy I could die!”
Marcus’s voice cuts in from somewhere off-screen, dry as hell. “Yeah, congrats, sis. But seriously—kitchen proposal? While he’s cleaning a gun? Peak Drogo. Romantic as a gunshot.”
Alena throws her head back, laughing louder. “Shut up, Marcus! It was perfect. He cried, okay? Big scary man cried actual tears. Like, full-on tears.”
I step fully into the room then, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. A low laugh rumbles out of my chest.
Marcus spots me first. “Speak of the devil. You bastard. You really did it in the kitchen? Classy, brother. Real classy.”
Alena glances over her shoulder, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed from laughing. “He’s here,” she tells the phone, tilting it so they can see me. “Say hi to the future husband, you two.”
Lucy lets out another ear-piercing squeal. “Hi, Drogo! You big softie! You made her cry too—look at her face! You’re both disgusting and adorable and I love it! When’s the wedding? Can I be maid of honor? I’m calling dibs!” Damn, that made me laugh. “Yes you can!” Alena screams and Lucy follows.
I push off the frame and walk toward the bed, slow, deliberate. My eyes are locked on the black diamond glittering on her finger. On the way it looks against her skin. On the way she looks—hair messy from sleep and sex, wearing nothing but my oversized t-shirt, legs bare, thighs still marked from last night.
Mine.
All of her. Forever.
I stop behind her, lean down just enough to slide my hand over the curve of her ass, fingers digging in possessively.
Alena gasps—sharp, surprised, the sound shooting straight to my cock.
Marcus snorts on the phone. “And there it is. Possessive bastard strikes again.”
Alena’s voice comes out breathy, shaky. “We’ll… talk later, guys.” She ends the call with a trembling finger, tosses the phone onto the nightstand.
The room goes quiet.
Just our breathing.
Just the sunlight slanting across the bed.
Just the black diamond on her finger, dark and dangerous and perfect.
She has never looked sexier in her life.
The need hits me like a freight train—feral, unstoppable, roaring through every vein. Seeing that ring on her—knowing she said yes, knowing she’s mine in every way that matters, knowing no one else will ever touch her, claim her, own her—it’s tearing something loose inside me.
My blood is pounding. My cock is already throbbing, straining against my sweatpants. Every instinct screams to take her, mark her, ruin her until she can’t walk, until every inch of her body remembers who she belongs to.
I want her.
Now.
A lot.
My hand is already moving, sliding between her thighs, finding her soaked through the thin fabric of her panties. She whimpers, hips rocking forward into my touch.
