“We’re going to miss it!”
“Maybe if I throw you over my shoulder, I won’t hear you complaining.”
My jaw drops. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oops. Did I say that out loud?”
My gaze narrows. “Prick.”
“You love me for it.”
The only certainty in life is death. But that rule doesn’t apply to me. I love Roman Riviera, and that’s the only truth I know beyond a shadow of a doubt.
My feet don’t hit the ground until banners swing on either side of the bridge and the palace is close enough to touch. A mirage of colors lights up the castle: blue spires and pink walls, and an ethereal hue covering the fortress bricks.
With Mickey’s hand clutched in mine, he weaves us through the throngs of families, staring people down (yes, he’s glaring at kids with no shame) until we reach the very front, where he folds up a jersey for me to sit on.
A band marches past and dancers and gymnasts twirl and smile as their gowns ripple and sway. I glance up at Roman behind me to find him already looking down at me.
Averting my attention back to the show, a blush heats my cheeks. His eyes belong to me, even in a place with colors and music. I peek another look and giggle silently at his crossed arms and unamused stare as he watches the performance. When he catches me looking, his face softens, lips curling up into a soft smile.
He holds out his hand, and I take it without hesitation, leading us away from the crowd until we reach a secluded spot by the front of the castle. Light colors the contours of his face, glimmering against his hypnotic eyes.
“Dance with me, Princess.”
“I can’t dance,” I breathe, holding on to his hand because I never want to let go of him.
His lips tip up into a grin. “Neither can I. Dance with me anyway.”
“I’ll step on your toes.”
The apples of his cheeks catch the light. “Then I’ll say thank you.”
“They’ll bruise.”
“You won’t see me complain about having your mark on me.”
“Bruises aren’t love marks.”
He leans forward until his hot breath feathers against my ear. “Do you want to test that theory? Give me thirty seconds, and everyone will take one look at your neck and how irrevocably mine you are.”
“I’m not yours.” I am his. Wholly and completely.
“Liar,” he whispers.
“I’m not a liar either.” Lie.
“You’re right. You’re Isabella, my sweet, sweet Bella.”
“I’m not.”
Leaning his forehead against mine, he says, “You can think that, but just know I’m yours.”
“Liar.” Biting the inside of my lip, I smile.
“I am. But not to you. Never to you,” he promises. “Dance with me, Isabella. Let me hold you.”
“I’ll trip.”
With each excuse, his eyes darken. “When have I ever let you fall? If you did, I’d be right there beside you. We’re Romeo and Juliet.”
Frowning, I chuckle. “They killed themselves, Mickey.”
“Do you doubt what I’d do for you, Isabella? If you’re in a grave, I’m in one. I promised you forever. We won’t end in death.”
“That’s so morbid.” My smile spreads until I can’t take it anymore. There’s nothing that could bring me down from this high.
“You make me crazy.” Warm hands wrap around my wrists to bring them up around the back of his neck. “Now, Princess, make me the luckiest man in the world and dance with me.”
“I—”
“The next word out of your mouth better be yes. I’ll repeat myself a third time for you. But there will be repercussions if I have to say it a fourth time.”
I pinch the back of his neck as his arms wrap around my waist. “If you had let me finish, you’d know I was about to agree.”
The last thing I see is his grin before his lips meet mine, languidly moving as we sway out of time with the music.
At this moment, the world around us ceases to exist. There’s no darkness hidden within our pasts or people surrounding our present. There’s only us, standing together in the light, ready for whatever we might face.
Wants and needs are usually two separate things, but they’re the same thing when I’m with Mickey. Mamá was right; I would be part of a family. I just didn’t realize that my childhood tears of yearning for one were for nothing, because my family is right here in front of me, in my arms.
“You’ll never feel alone again,” Mickey whispers against my lips, bringing a smile across mine.
“I don’t need your promises anymore.”
“You never did. That doesn’t mean you can’t want them.” Fireworks explode next to us, flashing purples and greens against our skin, but my attention is fixed on the man I’ve always loved. “I’ll make you another promise: From this day on, there will only ever be us. Everything we do, we do together,” he says. “I love you, Isabella Riviera.”
I grin. “It’s Garcia.”
“Not anymore, it’s not.”
I kiss him before saying the words that have lived in my heart since I was six years old. Giving him every crack in my fractured heart. Fate, that’s what this is. Two lost souls finding each other in the darkness and knowing they’ll always have a place to call home.
“I love you too, Roman Riviera.”
Epilogue
ROMAN
Eight Months Later
Alice Benson and Mike Key.
The modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, minus the crime, publicity, and recklessness.
I never thought I would like the silence that comes with safety, but now I find comfort in it. The quiet of the forest or the roaring waves have become second nature. I thought nothing could compare to the exhilaration of standing in a ring, staring at a man who wants to rip my spine clean from my body. But, as always, I find what I need in Bella. Chasing her through the woods, arguing over a board game, and making risky turns on the road because she sucks at giving directions.
I could live like this for the rest of my life and die a happy man.
A slap echoes through the forest when my gloved fists meet the punching bag. It doesn’t stave off the desire to beat someone the fuck up, but it makes the burning need more manageable.
I glance over to my girl, sitting under a tree beside the lake, wearing my favorite sundress, brows locked in concentration as she sketches away on her drawing pad.
“Margaret said if I get an A on all my papers, she’ll get me a gaming computer.” I can barely hear Jeremy’s voice from here.
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Bella grumbles, grabbing an eraser off the picnic blanket.
“TJ’s aunt bought him one,” he protests.
“TJ is also the smartest kid in school and can only play on it over the weekends.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Margaret still makes me sit at the table with her every day to study. It’s basically corporal punishment.”
“Trust me, little guy, it isn’t.”
Their conversations continue back and forth until he gets a call on the other line, then Bella goes back to drawing.