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Who had seen her frightened.

Furious.

Vulnerable.

Desperate.

Who had stayed.

Vivienne had spent decades building things she believed could protect her.

Money.

Influence.

Reputation.

Walls.

None of them had made her feel as safe as this.

Not because Leo could protect her from everything.

She couldn’t.

Nobody could.

Vivienne finally understood that safety was not the absence of risk.

Sometimes it was knowing who would stand beside you when the risk came.

“Ask me properly,” she whispered.

Leo smiled.

Then she took Vivienne’s hand.

This time, she lowered herself onto one knee.

Vivienne’s heart gave a ridiculous, wonderful lurch.

Leo looked up at her.

“Vivienne Strauss.”

“Yes?”

“I love you. I love our life. I love every impossible, arrogant, infuriating part of you.”

“That needs work.”

“I’m not finished.”

Vivienne pressed her lips together.

Leo squeezed her hand.

“I want every version of this. The easy years and the difficult ones. Paris. Here. Your meetings. My calls. You stealing half the bed.”