Page 128 of Beautiful Secrets
That’s what’s making this so damn difficult, and yet so easy at the same time. There’s a war going on inside my head. One half of my brain is convinced this will all end in a blood bath,The Shiningstyle. The other is adamant this plan is foolproof.
“Mika!” Dimitri snaps. Then he clicks his fingers.
Nothing changes in Mika’s face, but her eyes harden into icy blue marbles.
Fuck this.
I stride forward, ignoring the subtle clicks of safeties being drawn on the weapons I know for a fact are all pointing at my back.
Mika’s eyes widen. She sways as if she wants to move forward, but she still holds back.
If my heart wasn’t pounding like a bass drum in my chest, I’d have enjoyed the look of utter shock on her face when I sink to one knee on the carpet—midway between what Shakespeare would probably have referred to as the warring houses. Never read anything by the man, but it sounds about right.
Dead man’s land. Literally, if this doesn’t work.
My lips crawl as I struggle to form the only words I’m allowed to say.
“What are you doing?” Mika’s voice shakes almost as much as her hands as she takes a quick step forward and reaches for me, as if to drag me to my feet.
I’m aware of movement past her—Kill and Derek drawing weapons in response to the Russians behind me, the Connollys sharing a glance, the Dundee brood getting edgy.
But my focus is wholly, entirely on Mika.
“Mika Vasiliev—”
“Get up!” She pulls her hands away, wrestling with them against her belly.
Don’t do it, Mika. Don’t do that thing almost every pregnant woman does where they hold their unborn child. I don’t need Yuri realizing you’re the mother of his child. I don’t need this shit getting one iota more complicated than it already is.
And maybe some of that comes through in some psychic way, because Mika straightens her arms and clenches her fists at her side as if she just realized what she’d been about to do.
“Mika Vasiliev, will you marry me?”
Behind me, the leather of someone’s shoe creaks.
And that’s it.
Now everyone’s holding their breath.
“The ring,” Dimitri mutters.
Well, almost everyone.
Christ.
I let out a rush of air and fumble in my pocket without taking my eyes off Mika’s shocked face.
God, why didn’t I kiss her more? I can’t believe I had her so close for so long, and I didn’t claim her mouth again and again and again. I could have had my hands in her hair, could have whispered everything I now want to yell but can’t.
I love you, Mika. Perhaps from the first moment I saw your face.
I want you, Mika. More than money, or power, or the most intoxicating drug in the world—because when I’m with you, I don’t need anything.
I needyou, Mika.
But all I can do is shove the white velvet ring box in her direction and try to stop shaking as I pop open the lid.
She doesn’t even look at the ring.
