Prince jerked his head round at me, the car veering a fraction before he corrected it. “Jesus!” he bit out. “God, Sasha… I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” I tried to brush it off.
“It’s never long enough for that.” His fingers were over mine, holding on tight. “What happ—” He stopped. “Can you talk about this?” he asked cautiously. I had no idea. I’d never tried before.
“Sure,” I answered, hoping I’d be able to see it through.
“What happened?” he picked up his previous question, my fingers still firmly clasped in his hand. “Did the authorities step in? You never said where your folks were.”
“Never met my dad,” I shrugged, “and my mother was working out of town. My brother and I had been on the street a while when Candice and Joe…that was his name…” I tasted bile as I said it, “when they took us in.”
“Fucker!” Prince said under his breath, his veins from his temple popped “Did the bastard get caught?”
“Eventually. About three years after it started. Candice came home unexpectedly one day and caught us. Until then, he would wait for her to go out, or he’d come up to my room when I was sleeping,” I said, speaking almost mechanically. The words seemed to be coming from someone else’s mouth now. I didn’t feel them.
“Jesus Christ, Sasha!” he sounded so enraged I flinched, and he pulled me closer. When I resisted, he released me suddenly. “Oh my God…” His jaw clenched, and a muscle flickered in his cheek. “Oh…my God. That first night you moved in with me…”
I knew what he was thinking. How he’d come into my room in the night. “It’s okay, Alec,” I said softly. He shook his head abruptly. We’d turned into the parking bay beneath the apartment block, and he eased the Bentley into the assigned bay. He switched off the engine, then sat a moment, lost in thought.
“It’s not okay, Sasha,” he said, almost to himself, then turned to me. His eyes were dark. “Stuff like that is never okay.”
I said nothing. What was there to say?
He reached for my hand and held it to his chest, not pulling me to him this time, though I wouldn’t have resisted if he had. Suddenly, he was out of the car and opening my door. Alarm swirled within me. What now? Was he angry? Knowing that I was “damaged goods”? I swallowed hard and took his hand when he extended it.
“Come with me,” he said, then remained silent as he strode into the building. I almost jogged to keep up, but he seemed so intent on something that I was afraid to ask what was wrong.What have I done wrong?
The apartment door swung wide as he shoved it open and led me inside. “Wait for me here,” he said, as we walked through the entrance hall. I hovered uncertainly, then sank onto one of the white leather seats in the living room.
This is it,I thought. I’ve pushed things too far. It was bad enough that he had to make excuses for my past career. Now the fight with his father, and the revelation about the sordid details of my childhood. Angelique had been right. I would never fit into his world. Tears were moments away by the time he returned, his expression unreadable. He reached for my hand, and I gave it willingly, then let out a small cry as he slid the giant pink stone from my finger.
“Alec, I…I’m so sorry!” I gasped. Whatever I’d done, I could make it better…
But he was sinking to his knees in front of me, our eyes level. He leaned his forehead against mine.
“Sasha, stop! Don’t be sorry…” he whispered fiercely. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m such a fucking asshole!” I shook my head, but he went on. “All the things I made you do. When you’d already lived through so much horror. I can’t even begin to imagine…” He stopped and took my face in both his hands. “Oh, Sweetness…” he groaned, dotting kisses over my eyelids and my lips and the tip of my nose. “I’m never going to let another Joe into your world. Do you hear me?” I didn’t know what to say, so I simply sat and soaked it in. “I’ll kill the next man who lays a hand on you.” I looked into his face and knew he meant every word.
“Okay,” I whispered. It felt inadequate. I’d been searching for this kind of safe harbor all my life.
“I want you to marry me, Sasha,” he said, leaning back a little.
I fought down confusion. “But I am… The contract…”
“Forget the fucking contract!” He reached to his side and raised a small box. “I want you to be my wife, Sasha Ramirez. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Not for a million dollars for a few months. But for everything I have…forever.”
“Forever?” I felt like a fool repeating his words.
“Longer, if possible.” He was holding a ring – an engraved gold band encrusted with diamonds. “My mother gave me this when I was much younger,” he said. “It was my grandmother’s. She told me to save it for when I met ‘the one.’ Back then, I didn’t realize what she meant, but I know now. Sasha, you’re the one.”
I felt my heart clench almost painfully. My hand was in his and he was sliding the ring past my knuckle, then paused. Thank heavens it fit. “Is that okay?”
I choked out a sound that was half sob, half laugh. “It’s better than okay.” I wanted to weep. He exhaled a breath that carried relief.
“Thank God,” he laughed, “becauseje suis tombé amoureux de toi.”
My tears had finally spilled over, and I laughed through them. “Are you about to make me more mac and cheese?”
“If that will make you happy,” he chuckled back, clasping my hand and the ring against his chest. “I said I’ve fallen in love with you.”
