Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 81(@200wpm)___ 65(@250wpm)___ 54(@300wpm)
He’s sent all the staff home, and the villa is quiet. As expected, he’s halfway slumped in a chair overlooking the beach, lit candles on the table beside him the only light besides the moon. He’s got a half-empty glass in his hand, but he sits it down when he hears me approaching.
“Come to say goodbye?” His voice is rough.
I don't speak. I just walk around the table, pull the plane ticket out of my pocket, and hold it over the dancing flame of one of the candles.
"Elena, what are you—"
I don't let him finish, letting the ticket catch fire, curl, and blacken. Once the flame reaches my fingers, I let the scrap of paper go, floating to the terrace floor.
“Elena,” he repeats, “What does this mean?”
"It means," I say, my own voice shaky, “It means I don’t want to leave. I’m not afraid of you. And…I love you.”
I don’t even see him move, the chair scraping against the floor, and Adrian is suddenly in front of me, his hands cupping my face. “You love me?”
"I love you. I don't know if that makes me a fool, but I do.”
Then he’s kissing me, and it’s frantic, possessive. I give as good as I get, raising up on my tiptoes and fisting my hands in the fabric of his shirt, desperate for contact.
When we finally pull away from each other, Adrian rests his forehead against mine, “I love you too. I don’t give a damn whose daughter you are, or how you came into my life. All I know is that I want to keep you there.”
Before I can respond, he’s on his knees, a black velvet box in his hands. My heart nearly stops when he opens it, revealing a huge solitaire diamond on a simple white gold band. A world's difference from the gaudy thing I’d been given by Charles Beaumont.
"Elena Moreau, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the way this thing started between us. I’m not a good man, and some of the things I’ve done would probably send you running and screaming. But I am a man who will do anything to make you happy, keep you safe, and give you the life you deserve. Will you marry me?”
Tears are streaming down my face, hot and unstoppable. This is insane. A week ago, this man kidnapped me. Hours ago, I thought he was a murderer. Hell, he might still be one. Probably, actually. And now he's on his knees on a cold stone patio, asking me to spend the rest of my life with him.
And the craziest part is, there's only one answer I can give.
"Yes," I whisper, “Yes, I will marry you.”
Adrian laughs, a rare sound of pure joy from the serious man I’ve fallen for, as he slides the ring onto my finger. Then he’s kissing me again, and while I know our world will become chaos once our engagement is public, I can’t find it in me to care.
Not when I’m in Adrian’s arms. My future husband’s arms.
EPILOGUE
ADRIAN
One Year Later
It’s been over a year since we left the United States, but it’s time to return . Elena’s father, Lauent Moreau, has finally reached out and expressed the desire to see not just his daughter, but his first grandchild.
If I had my way, he’d never lay eyes on either of them, but no matter how terrible he was to Elena, I know she still holds out hope that there is some path towards reconciliation. Maybe having our sweet Dina has softened her, but I’m still not thrilled with my wife facing the man who tried to marry her off for his own gain.
Elena tightens her grip on the blanketed wrapped bundle that is Dina, and while I can tell she’s nervous of both the flight and the upcoming confrontation, just the sight of the two of them still makes my heart squeeze in my chest. After spending my entire adult life fixated on revenge, I never believed I would ever be able to love or be loved, but Elena changed everything.
And if I had been possessive of Elena on her own, that’s only intensified tenfold now that we’ve had our daughter. We wasted no time getting married after I proposed, and to say the media was shocked when Elena reemerged as Mrs. Elena Marchetti is an understatement.
Not long after, Elena became pregnant, and we retreated back into privacy once more. No one even knew she was with child until after Dina was born, and the media firestorm started all over again.
It also prompted Laurent Moreau to finally put his pride aside and call.
“Nervous?” I ask, laying a hand on her knee.
Elena looks up, and gives me a small smile. “Terrified.”
Leaning over, I press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t be. You’re stronger than you think.”