Page 92 of Heartless Vows

Mine. Mine to protect, cherish, and love.

We may live in a brutal world surrounded by danger and deceit, but nothing will ever hurt her again.

“Prove it,” I growl.

A smile ghosts across her face as she accepts my challenge.

“How do I prove I love you?” she asks.

“Marry me,” I demand.

She chuckles despite the pain of her wounds and the fatigue tugging at her limbs.

“I already have,” she murmurs.

“Yes, you have, but that’s not what I mean. After you recover, and youwillwait until you’re fully recovered, we’ll plan the wedding of your dreams. I need to show the entire world how lucky I am.”

She huffs a half laugh and closes her eyes.

“You just want to claim me in front of everyone, don’t you?”

“I do. You’re mine,” I declare.

Her hand relaxes on the side of my face as she dips toward sleep.

“And you’re mine,” she murmurs.

As her exhaustion whisks her away, I hold her tight and whisper the words overflowing from my heart.

“Oh, I’mallyours,mia topolina. You’re stuck with me forever. I’ll never let you go.”

As Tristan returns and settles on his cot, a profound sense of rightness settles over me.

My world revolves around Aurora, but Tristan completes our family. She loves him like a brother and a child.

I’ll protect them both long after my last breath. With my name, wealth, and power, I’ll ensure they live a safe and happy life.

No matter what the future brings, Aurora and I will tackle it just like we promised.

Together.

Epilogue

Aurora Vivaldi

If exhaustion had a name, it would be Aurora Achilles. No, not Achilles. Vivaldi.

Technically, Achilles is still on my social security card, but only because both Giorgio and I agreed it made legal matters easier and safer for Tristan, so now I have two last names.

I prefer Vivaldi, though. In my heart and on paper, Giorgio Vivaldi is my husband. I want the world to know I belong to him and he belongs to me.

Concern spears through me when I rise from sleep and find myself alone in the hospital bed. Despite three transfusions, a slew of other medications, and the doctor and nurses doing all they can to make me comfortable, I still feel like death warmed over, but the pain in my body is nothing compared to the angst in my soul when I realize Giorgio isn’t in the room.

I rub the grit from my eyes. Confusion spears through me. There are no IV lines tugging at my arms.

Tristan softly snores from the cot along the wall. The low lighting offers me a vague picture of him lying on his side. I push my hair back from my face and grimace in vain, expecting tangles and grime but finding my scalp clean and locks brushed.

Soft fabric caresses my skin as I struggle to a sitting position. Looking down, I blink in confusion at the pink scrubs covering my body until my brain works.

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