Chapter 9 - The Real Proposal
Roman went completely still.
His breath caught in his throat as he searched my face, watching the tears trail down my cheeks, taking in every ounce of raw, unguarded emotion shining in my eyes.
“Read that to me again,” he rasped, his grip on my hand tightening gently.
“I wasn't scared of you, Roman Duca,” I repeated, stepping closer until my chest was pressed against his, my free hand reaching up to touch the rough, handsome stubble on his jaw. “I was terrified of losing you. I was terrified of realizing that I had fallen completely, stupidly in love with a man whose world might tear him away from me.”
A long, ragged shudder passed through Roman’s massive frame.
Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, lifting me off my feet as his mouth came down on mine in a deep, fierce, desperate kiss that swept away every doubt, every fear, and every lingering memory of cold snow and violence.
His lips were warm, commanding, and filled with a reverent tenderness that made my knees go completely weak. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, burying my fingers in his thick, dark hair, kissing him back with everything I had inside me.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing heavily in the quiet, warm foyer.
“I’m done with that world, Clare,” Roman whispered, his thumb gently wiping away the tears on my cheek. “I stepped down on Monday. I’m just a partner in a legitimate logistics firm now. I have a niece to raise, a mountain of legal papers to sign, and a very demanding baker to take to dinner.”
I let out a wet, breathless laugh, resting my hand over his cheek. “A very demanding baker who demands dark roast coffee at eight-fifteen every single morning.”
“Done,” Roman smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with a warmth I had never seen before. “For the rest of my life.”
The inner hallway door clicked open, and Lily poked her head out, holding a bag of potato chips.
“Are you guys done shouting?” Lily asked casually. “Because Uncle Roman is terrible at making dinner and I’m starving.”
May you like
Roman looked over at his niece, then back down at me, a brilliant, breathtaking smile breaking across his handsome face.
“Come on,” I laughed, taking Roman’s hand. “Let me show you two how a real baker makes dinner.”
