Page 103 of His Bride

He stands and walks around to the side of my chair, and suddenly, the teasing air he always carries with him is replaced by something different—something vulnerable. “This is me giving you that freedom. Freedom to choose.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small ring box, his hand tightening around it as he drops to one knee, and when he opens it, I suck in a breath.

Made of platinum, the band gleams softly under the light, sleek and timeless. At its center, a perfectly cut emerald-shaped diamond.

The world seems to hold its breath, just like I am.

“Giana Belucci,” he starts, a crooked grin breaking through, “I’m ridiculously, hopelessly, completely in love with you. So, here’s the deal—marry me, and I’ll spend every single day trying to make you laugh, cry, or threaten to kill me. But mostly laugh.”

His grin widens as he continues, “Whatever you want, we’ll do. We can climb mountains, rob a few banks as a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde—minus the tragic ending, obviously. Or we can do the whole picket fence thing and raise a football team of tiny uses. The point is, you call the shots. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He holds the ring up, his eyes locked on mine, and says softly, “Because I love you. And I’ll love you for the rest of our lives, no matter what you choose.”

I stare down at him, my heart pounding so hard it might burst. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. The mixture of emotions—surprise, love, disbelief—all crash into me at once. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s holding his breath like I’m about to make or break his entire world.

This is it. This is love. It’s in the certainty that I’d choose him, over and over again, even when I swear I won’t. Because this is more than mere chemistry or attraction—this is home.

This is forever.

“A picket fence?” I tease. “Really? You? Mr. 'Rules-Don’t-Apply-to-Me’?”

Caelian’s grin widens, that familiar cocky glint returning. “For you, I’ll even paint it white.”

I laugh softly, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I’m your kind of ridiculous.”

“And I love you for it.” I pause, bite my bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“New York,” he starts, raising an eyebrow, “I could’ve proposed on a rooftop under the stars with a string quartet playing, but you’d see right through that.”

“Yeah, you’re not exactly the romantic type.”

“Exactly. I’m more the ‘wait-around-while-you-dramatically-pause-to-keep-me-sweating’ type.”

I laugh softly. “Yes, Caelian. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Oh, thank God. This floor sucks.”

“You’re an asshole.” I slap at him playfully. He catches my hand and slips the ring on my finger—the perfect fit—then pulls me out of my seat and kisses me deeply, passionately, teasing me with a light brush of his tongue along mine.

“We can have a big-ass wedding. No heathen priest, and I promise I won’t carry you down the aisle this time. Or I hear City Hall’s pretty cool.”

I lean in close, my lips to his ear. “Catch me if you can.”

CAELIAN

She turns and runs, and I quickly throw a hundred on the table then take off. She’s fast, but I’m faster.

My heart pounds in sync with my footsteps as I close the distance, dodging through pedestrians who don’t even blink. Halfway down the block, I catch up to her, my hand wrapping around her waist as I scoop her up effortlessly, tossing her over my shoulder like she weighs nothing.

She lets out a surprised yelp, playfully slapping my back, but I don’t slow down. Not for a second.

“Put me down!” she half-laughs, half-protests, her fists playfully pounding against me.

“Not a chance,” I growl, grinning as I carry her through the crowd. The people around us don’t bat an eye. In this city, a guyhauling a woman over his shoulder barely registers as odd. It’s just another Tuesday.

At the car, I manage to fling the door open with one hand, then toss her inside like she’s cargo—careful, but quick.

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