"He was." I brought her hand to my lips. "Were you?"
She turned to look at me."Yes. Ridiculously, impossibly happy." A small smile. "It scares me sometimes. How happy."
"Me too." I pulled her closer."Like it's too good to last."
"Then we'll just have to make sure it does." She wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her head against my chest. "Together."
"Together," I echoed, the word feeling like a vow.
We stood there in the quiet hallway, holding each other, listening to our son's steady breathing. The penthouse that had once felt like a fortress now felt like a home. The life I'd built on control and violence had somehow transformed into this—pancake breakfasts and block castles and a woman who loved me despite everything.
"Come to bed," Isla whispered, taking my hand.
I let her lead me to our bedroom, closing the door softly behind us. She turned in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest to link behind my neck.
"I love you," she said, like she was still getting used to saying it freely.
"I love you too." The words came easier each time. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For seeing past what I am to who I could be. For giving me this." I gestured around us."I don't deserve it."
"Yes, you do." She pulled me down for a kiss, soft and sweet. "You deserve to be happy, Cassian. To have a family who loves you. To be more than just the Don."
"I'm trying to believe that."
"Keep trying." She smiled against my lips. "I'll remind you every day until you do."
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, tracing patterns on my shirt.
"That I almost lost this. Almost threw it away because I was afraid." I tightened my arm around her. "And how grateful I am that you were brave enough for both of us."
"I wasn't brave. I was terrified." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me. "But I was more afraid of living without you."
"What we are," I corrected, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What we will be."
"What we will be," she agreed.
But she didn't settle back against me. Instead, she stayed propped up, her eyes searching mine in the dim light.
"What?" I asked, my hand finding her waist.
"I'm just looking at you." Her fingers traced the line of my jaw. "Really looking. Because three weeks ago, I didn't think I'd get to do this. Didn't think you'd let me."
"I was an idiot."
"You were scared." She leaned down, her lips brushing against mine. "But you're not anymore. Are you?"
"Terrified," I admitted. "But not of this. Not of you."
"Good." She kissed me properly then, soft and slow and full of promise. When she pulled back, her eyes held something that made my breath catch. "Because I want you. All of you. Not just the man who makes pancakes and plays trains. I want the man underneath. The one you're still learning to show me."
My hand tightened on her waist. "Isla—"
"Show me," she whispered, her voice low and seductive. It wasn’t a request; it was a command, one that sent a shiver down my spine. I took a step toward her, my heart pounding in my chest. Her words were a challenge, a call to the man I kept hidden beneath the tailored suits and calculated smiles.
The man who didn’t trust easily, who feared vulnerability like a poison. But Isla—she saw him. She wanted him.
