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“There will be changes in our lives, Thalia,” he says after a moment, his tone warm, careful—like he’s choosing each word with intention. “And the first change is that you’ll move out of Theo’s house the moment we arrive in London.”

I pull back from his embrace and lift my head, shocked, searching his face.

“If you think you’ll be living in any house other than mine, or sleeping in any bed other than mine,” he continues, his voice dropping into a deeper, more absolute sound, “then you still don’t know me well enough.”

I swallow hard, trying to process everything at once, to understand the shape of the life he’s already building around us.

“Everything you want,” he says, lifting my chin with care, forcing me to meet his eyes again.

Noticing the confusion still written across my face, he softens—just enough to pull me back from the edge of it.

“I’ll give you everything you need, Thalia,” he assures me, serious, unwavering. “A home. A relationship.” His hands cradle my face, grounding, controlling. “A family.”

Hearing that word, a shiver moves through me, deep and consuming, as though my soul slips free for a moment, rising above us to take in the reality of what he’s offering.

I feel suspended somewhere between truth and illusion, unable to tell whether the past few days have truly happened or if my mind has simply created a reality too perfect to be real.

“I’m aware that I’ve fallen in love with you,” he adds, a quiet amusement in his voice, “and that I’ll never be able to return to who I was before you tore into my life like a hurricane.” A soft chuckle follows. “So you’ll have to accept being mine forever.”

He leans forward and kisses me, a gesture that feels far too small for the storm of emotion already consuming me, yet impossibly overwhelming all the same, because it’s him.

“You belong to me, Thalia,” he whispers, his tone soft now, almost careful as he pulls back just enough to study my face—to read me, to understand, to see if I’m ready for the weight of what he’s asking.

What he doesn’t know is that everything he’s offering me is all I’ve wanted since the very beginning—since the moment I met him—even if I never had the courage to admit it. Not to him. Not even to myself.

SIXTY-FIVE

Ethan

“Whenever you need to hear that I love you,” I whisper against her lips, “I’m here to say it again.”

She tells me at every turn that she still can’t believe we ended up here, that I fell in love with her.

But I’m the one who can’t believe how lucky I am—to have her in my life, to have her be mine.

I’m not a good person. Not even close. The acts of charity, the help I give to people in need, don’t erase the less honorable things I’ve done since becoming CEO—and the things I will continue to do.

And if before, women barely existed to me even until I got them into bed, and not at all afterward, now, since being with Thalia, every other woman has become invisible.

I don’t see anyone else. No one catches my attention. No one even registers.

“But right now, I need you to let me fuck you,” I say suddenly, my tone thick with desire. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about since I saw you in the Thomas house, looking like every man’s wet dream,” I confess.

I don’t know how I lasted all those hours without having her—how I managed to keep control, how I didn’t drag her into the bedroom much sooner.

“You’re a goddess, kitten,” I murmur as I lower my mouth to her neck, my lips brushing slowly over her skin, lingering enough to make her breath hitch.

Laughing softly, she closes the distance between our mouths completely and kisses me—not shy, not hesitant, but passionate, burning, the kind of kiss that sends my pulse spiking instantly.

Her hands are already tangled in my hair, fingers gripping, anchoring herself to me, and I lift her off the bed without breaking the kiss, needing easier access to her body—to all of her.

With one hand on her ass and the other pressing firmly against her back, I pull her flush against me, leaving no space between us, our bodies molded together as if they were always meant to fit this way.

My cock presses insistently against her stomach, a constant, undeniable proof of the desire tearing through me—impossible to ignore, impossible to control.

She moans loudly between kisses, the sound raw and unfiltered, while her fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt, impatience evident in every movement.

I shrug out of my suit without breaking contact, the fabric falling uselessly to the floor, and the moment my hands are free, they’re back on her, sliding down her sides until I find the zipper of her dress.