Page 36 of Forbidden Billionaire (Titans #7)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Seraphina

I stare down at him, this impossible man on his knees before me, holding out a ring like it’s salvation. And maybe it is.

Not because it fixes what was broken.

But because it acknowledges it.

“I hate that you know me so well,” I whisper, my throat raw. “That you knew this”—I glance at the ring—”would undo me.”

His brow creases. “It’s not the ring,” he says quietly. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

I laugh, but it comes out watery, brittle. “You’re such a bastard, Xavier Blackwell.”

“I know.” He doesn’t flinch. “But I’m your bastard, if you’ll let me be.”

The weight of it all crashes into me—everything that’s happened, everything we’ve survived. And how, somehow, impossibly, love still lives here, stubborn and gasping and real .

“I’m scared,” I admit, and the words shake loose from somewhere buried deep. “You’re not safe for me. You never have been.”

He nods, solemn. “I will spend the rest of my life proving I am. Your refuge. The one person you can count on. No matter what.”

My heart cracks wide open.

I kneel.

Right there on the floor with him, the stupid letter still clutched in one hand, I sink down until we’re eye to eye. I see the exact moment his breath catches, the desperation in his gaze softening to something dangerously close to hope.

“You’re not forgiven,” I say. “Not yet.”

“I don’t expect to be.” His voice is hoarse.

I reach out, wrap my fingers over his. “I believe in you.”

His throat works as he swallows, and I think maybe he’s fighting tears. The Xavier Blackwell who ruined me. Who rebuilt me. Who’s offering forever on bended knee.

“I love you,” I whisper. “God help me, I never stopped.”

A sound escapes him—half groan, half laugh—as he lifts the ring from the velvet box. “Can I…?”

I nod, tears spilling freely now. “I think you should.”

He helps me to stand, and then he slides the ring onto my finger, his hand trembling slightly, and it fits like it was made for me. For us.

“Seraphina Blackwell.” He says my future name softly, testing it as if it’s a prayer. “God, I like the sound of that.”

I lean in until our foreheads touch, our breaths mingling, and his hands cup my face like I’m fragile and fierce all at once.

“You break my heart.” I smile through the tears.

“You own mine.” His mouth finds mine like gravity—inescapable, inevitable, a pull I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to. And God, I don’t want to. Not anymore. Not with his ring on my finger and the storm in his eyes softening just for me.

I lean in, and he deepens the kiss. The hunger he’s been holding back roars to the surface.

Xavier slides one hand into my hair, cradling my head, holding me where he wants me. Then he wraps an arm around my waist, dragging me flush against the hard lines of his body. There’s no space, no restraint, only fire.

He devours me with each pass of his tongue, his kiss deep, claiming, possessive. His teeth nip at my lower lip, just enough to make me gasp—and he swallows the sound like a man starved.

I clutch his jacket like I’m holding onto the moment, desperate and breathless and undone.

My knees nearly buckle, but he holds me up. Of course he does.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are red and swollen, his pupils wide with heat. He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I’m never letting you go again.”

I can’t speak. I can only nod.

He pulls back a little to grab his phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice shaky.

“Getting you out of that maid’s uniform once and for all.”

His fingers move quickly over the screen. A beat later, he holds it up so I can read the message:

To: Rafe Sterling

Seraphina quits. She belongs to me now.

I laugh through a choked sound that might be a sob. He grins, smug and certain and somehow still sweet. And then he takes my hand and leads me from the closet.

Vionna is waiting for us when we reach the lobby. In the car, Xavier settles beside me like he’s always belonged there. He doesn’t hesitate. Just takes my left hand in his, laces our fingers together, and lifts them slightly as Vionna glances at us through the rearview mirror.

“Vionna,” he says. “Say hello to the future Mrs. Blackwell.”

I flush instantly, the weight of those words landing right in the center of my chest. My cheeks burn. My lips part.

“Congratulations!” Vionna beams. “I knew you were the one from the moment I met you, ma’am.”

Oh, God.

I glance at Xavier, wide-eyed. He just lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it like we’re in some kind of royal court. I shake my head, stunned and giddy.

And instead of turning toward the Sterling Uptown, he gives Vionna a different address.

River Oaks.

My heart skips. “You’re not going back to the hotel?”

“No more hiding.” He shrugs. “If the paparazzi want to wait, let them. I have nothing more to hide.”

The car glides down leafy streets lined with gated mansions, until we pull up to a modern estate behind high hedges and iron gates. The house is all sleek stone and glass, glowing from within.

“Xavier…”

“Welcome home, Seraphina.”

Inside, I’m struck silent. The ceilings are cathedral-high, the walls hung with modern art, the furnishings minimalist and gorgeous. It’s not just a home. It’s a fortress of wealth and taste and power.

He watches me absorb it all, his expression unreadable. “We can sort out an office or a private space for you. Whatever you want. If you want to redecorate, that’s fine. But for now…” His voice lowers. Darkens. “We have to make this engagement official.”

He disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of champagne. Even though I’m no connoisseur like he is, I recognize the iconic label.

And—

He has actual flutes.

“Real glasses.” I laugh.

“Unlike someone I know.” He pops the cork with a satisfying sound.

He pours and hands me a glass.

“To the woman who saved me.”

I lift mine. “To the man who broke me. And somehow made it worth it.”

We clink. Sip.

The bubbles rush through me, dizzying and sweet. I glance down at my rumpled clothes, then at the ridiculous perfection of the room.

“I need a shower before we do…anything.”

His grin is slow and wicked. “I’ll try to be patient.”

He leads me upstairs to a suite that looks like something out of a design magazine. The bed is massive, the walls lined with windows, and through a door, I glimpse a bathroom that could host a black-tie gala.

“This is…”

“Ours.” He sweeps his gaze over me. “Come on. I’ll show you the best part.”

He guides me into the bathroom, where a soaker tub gleams under a skylight.

“Take your time.” He brushes a kiss against my temple. “Unless you want company.”

“Behave, Blackwell.”

“That’s one demand too far, wife.”

I strip quickly, the tension of the day melting with every discarded piece of clothing. When I step into the hot water, it’s like slipping into a dream.

As I soak, I reach for my phone.

I need to let Tasha know I’m not coming home.

And my friends need to be the first to know I’m engaged.

Engaged.

Even I can’t believe it.

But when I open the message app, notifications explode across the screen. There is a flood of messages from Tasha and Lila, full of screaming caps and links.

THE PREDATOR KING HAS FALLEN FOR HIS PREY.

BLACKWELL PUBLICLY APOLOGIZES FOR MISTAKES.

Confused, I scan the articles, reading about the gala and his speech.

I’m stunned.

He never told me a thing.

Even if I had refused to marry him, he had still publicly apologized and restored my reputation.

My heart swells as the last doubts vanish, just like the steam off the water.

The door opens, quiet but unmistakable.

I send the messages that I need to, and I promise we’ll catch up in the morning. Then I look in his direction.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, his eyes on mine.

“I just saw the articles.”

He shrugs, casual as hell. “It was the right thing to do. And I didn’t want it to affect your decision about whether you wanted to forgive me or not.” He kneels beside the tub and offers a hand. “Let’s get our forever started, shall we, Mrs. Blackwell?”