"More than ready."
We made our way to the elevator, and the moment the doors closed, the world quieted. No more music, no more voices, no more chaos.
I leaned against Quentin, and he wrapped his arm around me, holding me close as the elevator rose to the penthouse suite.
"That was quite a day," I said softly.
"Quite a few days, actually."
"Murder confessions, family exile, grandfather with a gun, long-lost sister appearing..." I tilted my head up to look at him. "And somehow, we made it through."
"We're good at surviving."
"We're good at more than that." I reached up, touching his face. "We're good at this. At us."
He caught my hand, pressed a kiss to my palm. "Best decision I ever made."
"Marrying me?"
"Trusting you. Believing in you when I should have walked away." He met my gaze. "Loving you."
My breath caught. "Say it again."
"I love you, Julia Vanetti."
"I love you too." I pulled him down into a kiss—soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. Like we'd been waiting all day for this moment alone.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless.
The elevator doors opened and Quentin took my hand, pulling me to the penthouse suite, both of us suddenly quiet with anticipation.
The suite was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A bottle of champagne waiting on ice. Rose petals scattered across the bed.
"Carlo really went all out," I said, taking it all in.
"He loves you. Wanted to give you something wonderful."
I turned to face him, my wedding dress catching the city lights streaming through the windows. "I already have something wonderful."
"Smooth talker."
"I learned from the best." I stepped closer, reaching up to loosen his tie. "Help me with this dress?"
He moved behind me, finding the hidden zipper, drawing it down slowly. The fabric parted, and I felt the cool air against my skin, felt his breath at my neck.
"You're killing me," he murmured.
"Good." I let the dress slip to the floor, stepping out of it in just my lingerie and heels. Then I turned to face him, feeling beautiful and wanted and completely his. "Your turn."
He shrugged out of his jacket, started on the buttons of his shirt. I helped, my fingers brushing his chest, wanting to touch every inch of him.
"Julia—"
"Hmm?"
"I know today was complicated. With Nonno waving a gun, and Bianca showing up—"
"Stop." I pressed a finger to his lips. "Today was perfect. Because at the end of it, I'm here with you. We're married. We're together. Everything else—we'll figure it out tomorrow." I pulled him toward the bed, and he came willingly, gathering me in his arms as we fell together onto the rose petals.
