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"Someone's got plans," he murmured. “You told me that I had work to do.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, he grabbed my hand and led me to the bedroom. He turned to face me, his dark eyes steady in the dim light. He looked… nervous.Angelo Santelli: King of the Bronx, mafia don, slayer of enemies, wielder of terrifying silences — nervous.

I blinked. "What?" I said, a little wary. "Isthere a body hidden under the bed?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Not tonight."

“Good. I just cleaned under there.”

He pulled a small velvet box from the nightstand drawer, thumbing it open with one big hand. Inside, nestled against black velvet, was the most beautiful and unique ring I had ever seen. It wasn’t traditional—no fluffy diamond halo or safe, boring solitaire.

Instead, it was bold—a rectangular step-cut black sapphire glittered in the center—stunning, like the clearest night sky. Tiny baguette diamonds fanned out around it in sharp, clean lines, creating a sunburst pattern that screamed Art Deco in the most delicious, dramatic way. The band was platinum, slim, and detailed with a delicate engraving of tiny repeating fans, like a whisper of old New York glamour.

It was stunning.

Elegant and eccentric at the same time.

Exactly the kind of ring that made people lean in and say, "Tell me the story behind that."

I pressed my hand over my heart. I could see it already. The black sapphire wouldpopagainst a dramatic tulle gown — somethingdraped, not stiff, with bias cuts that whispered instead of shouted. Maybe a low back. Tiny pearl buttons. A faux fur stole thrown over my shoulders if it was chilly. My bouquet would be dahlias, or perhaps black bat flowers, sprays of silver eucalyptus, and a few moody, deep-blue thistles tucked in for a touch of chaos. No tiara. No glitter. Just a sweep of soft waves pinned to one side, and these art deco details glinting at my ears and wrists — tiny echoes of the ring that started it all.

The kind of wedding that didn't feel like a performance, but a story — a crazy, fierce, reckless, beautiful story only we could tell.

"I had it restored," Angelo said quietly, watching my face like a hawk. “It’s from the Depression, but it reminded me there is still light even when everything feels dark. It reminds me of you.”

My throat went tight, too full of words I couldn’t form. "It's perfect," I whispered. "Guess you’re stuck with me now, Santelli," I murmured against his mouth.

"You’reperfect," he said, voice rough. “I love you.”

“I’vealwaysloved you.” It was the truth. I never stopped loving him, even in the dark. My love for him spanned years full of heartache, but that didn’t mean it had ended. It was a full-circle sort of love.

I stared at him — this complicated, brutal, beautiful man — holding the ring against my finger as if he didn’t already own every piece of my battered heart.

It looked… old.

Loved.

Story-soaked.

Just like something I would have designed myself if I had been given the brief:whimsical, stubborn, romantic, slightly mischievous, likely to prick her fingers with a sewing needle.

My throat closed up.

"Theo Anthakos," he said, voice low but steady. "Marry me." I nodded so hard I nearly fell over.

"Yes," I said, half-laughing, half-sobbing. "Of course, yes. A million times, yes."

His shoulders relaxed, and for a moment, the fierce mafia don disappeared, revealing just Angelo.

My Angelo.

He slid the ring onto my finger, his touch reverent. It fit perfectly, like it had been waiting for me all along. When I looked back at him, he was already standing, invading my space, his hands cradling my face, tilting it upward. I barely had time to gasp before he kissed me. Not a polite, chaste kiss.

Like he was writing his name across my soul in invisible ink.

Pulling him closer, I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the tension rippling through his muscles. I realized he was holding back. Barely. I wasn’t interested in holding anything back.

I kissed him harder, lightly scraping my nails against his scalp, and he made a low, vicious sound that did terrible, wonderful things to my insides.