Chapter 12

12

NATALIE

“ Y ou came back for me.” I’m shocked at the sentence, and I’m the one saying it.

“Of course.” Dante’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a stiff whiskey while he brews me a cup of tea.

I found it hard to speak while we drove back to his place. A mix of the fear-induced panic Larry thrust on me and the overwhelming joy and excitement of seeing Dante again. But I know the real reason is because I was afraid I’d upset him. That he’d snap at any minute and tear into me for disobeying him after he bought me.

It never came. Not once while we drove did I get the sense of him being angry that I stormed out of his home, nor did he give me the impression when asking if I wanted tea or cocoa to still my nerves—a trick he learned from his grandmother to soothe even the most broken of hearts.

“I left things poorly, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t make it right,” Dante adds, bringing our drinks to the living room.

“But I was horrible to you.” I accept the teacup, and the warmth radiates from my palms, up my arms, and nestles pleasantly in my chest.

“So?” he chuckles. “It was well deserved.”

He takes a sip of whiskey and sets the glass down on the table before taking my hand in his. I want to apologize again, but I don’t dare interrupt upon seeing the pained expression on his face for what he’s about to share.

“I’m no good at this, Nat. I stole you away from your home without so much as an explanation of what was wanted or expected. I can’t blame you for being angry because I can’t imagine what was going through your head.” He breathes in deeply through his nose before exhaling a sigh through his lips. “I don’t want you to feel trapped or scared when you’re with me, but I do want you as mine. Mine alone. You’ve done something to me no one else ever could—opened my eyes to the beauty in this world and the possibility of being happy.”

Dante reaches out and takes both my hands in his. He brushes my knuckles, staring so deeply into my eyes, I’m sure he’s gazing straight into my soul.

“If that’s how you made me feel in a few days, I can’t imagine what you’ll do to me in a month. A year. The rest of our damned lives. But I don’t want to imagine it, not for a second. I want it to be a reality. Our reality. You and me braving this storm we call life, side by side, hand in hand, happy.”

“Dante.” Tears rim my eyes, and I can’t contain the joy exploding from my chest. “I thought you said you weren’t good with words.”

“I’ve been practicing it all night. Didn’t want to fuck up the last shot I’ve got.” He plays it off cool, with a warm smile on his face.

But I don’t believe a word of it. The nervous quiver in his voice, his inability to look me straight in the eye—they’re signs of confirmation that everything he said came from the heart.

“Marry me,” he says as if it’s a completely normal continuation of our conversation.

“What?” My jaw drops, and my eyes nearly pop out of my skull.

“Marry me. Let me prove that everything I’ve said is true. That I want you for you and not because of what I did. Be mine, and I’ll be yours. Forever and always,” he says.

“Dante, I—” My mind’s racing a million miles an hour. I stormed out of here less than six hours ago, cursing him to the ends of the Earth. Now, we’re back, and he wants to make me his, with ring and all? I want to make the snap decision, say yes, and give myself to him fully, but the intense emotions wafting through me slap any logical thoughts and reasoning out of my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say yes, and let all our dreams come true.”

I don’t answer, not yet, locked in place from a mixture of joy and nervousness. Instead, I throw my arms around his shoulders and give him a kiss.

No thoughts, head empty, letting everything that happened tonight wash over and consume me.