Page 68 of Cruel Redemption

I listened closely. “I do.”

He offered his palm. “Dance with me like the first night we heard it.”

Our bodies aligned and rocked to the soulful music. That night we met I felt connected to him in a way I’d never been able to explain. Maybe it did have something to do with the love lines on our palms. Maybe we were just good dancers.

“Where did you come from Amara Amato?” he whispered in my ear.

“Philadelphia.” I winked.

“Smartass.” He chuckled.

I looked up at him. His eyes of obsidian saw everything. He knew me. He saw all the hues and layers of my heart and my soul. He knew the girl I used to be. He knew the woman I was now. And through all of that, he loved me. Maybe it was in despite of all of it, he loved me.

PARTTWO

Epilogue

I held her close. I almost lost my damn mind when I saw her step out of the honeymoon suite in that dress. She looked like a goddess. My goddess. Her hourglass shape, highlighted by the soft fit of the fabric made me lose my breath every time. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves of gold. It was hard not to trace my fingertips over her skin. It always called to me. Beckoned to be worshipped. After all we had been through, the night had been perfect. A perfect grand opening. This moment. This dance at Marguerite’s. This was ours and ours alone.

The music began to fade before the next song played. I reached into the tux jacket. After all this time, the timing was finally perfect.

“Luka.” She exhaled as I knelt in front of her.

The candles flickered. The ice in the champagne bucket sloshed under the weight of the bottle. It was almost exactly like the first night we met.

Five years ago, I was enthralled with her beauty. She was funny. Witty. And her god damn innocence drew me to her even when I knew it was dangerous. There were so many reasons I had fallen in love with that girl.

She wasn’t here anymore. The woman standing in front of me was more beautiful and sexier than she’d ever looked. She was powerful. She was smart. She was compassionate. She had built an empire and slayed the demons of New Orleans to do it. She was my partner. Tonight, I was going to ask her to be my wife.

I took her hand, but Amara sank to the floor with me.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get the dress dirty.”

She laughed. “I don’t care about the dress. I want to look in your eyes. I want to be right here with you. On the same level.”

“You don’t want tradition with even this one thing?” I teased.

She shook her head. “We aren’t very traditional.”

I grinned. I cracked the lid on the box, waiting for her reaction. It was hard to buy jewelry for a mafia queen. She had everything she wanted. I scoured boutique jewelers. I had gems flown in from around the world. I’d worked on this piece of jewelry for months.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. All those months were worth it, for that moment. For the look of pure joy and excitement in her eyes. Like seeing fireworks for the first time. It was a five-carat emerald cut Tiffany ring.

I lifted it from the velvet cushion. “Amara, I thought about this moment five years ago. I thought about when I lived in France. All the nights we were apart. I’ve thought about it since the tropical depression and you forgave me. Since we drained that bottle of Pichon.” She pressed her forehead to mine, as if to tell me all of that was in our past. “I’ve thought about it every night since. This is all I want. You are all I want. Our future. Will you marry me?”

She nodded, trying to speak the words. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

I slipped the ring over her knuckle. “Perfect fit.”

She held it up to the candlelight. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a diamond this big before. She was in awe of it.

“That’s kind of the point. Everyone in New Orleans will see it.” I wrapped my arms around her.

She giggled, pressing her lips to mine. I tangled my hands in her hair, crushing her mouth. I’d never wanted her so badly. Our tongues lashed at each other, flicking and tasting the champagne. Amara crawled into my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist. We bumped into the table, as I lifted her in my arms.

“Back to the honeymoon suite,” I growled.

“God, yes,” she answered, breaking from the kiss for a quick second. Her hand wedged between our bodies. She rubbed my cock through the tux pants. I was hard as fuck. I had been all night. I groaned. My hand slipped under the dress.

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