Epilogue
Lucian
Five years.
Five years, and I still can’t fucking believe she’s mine.
Aurora stands in the center of our home studio, hair tied up in a messy knot. Our little girl watches her—tiny, eager thing with her pink leotard and clumsy arabesques. Every time our girl stumbles, Aurora kneels down, smiles, and says something that makes her stand strong and try again.
And I stand and watch the love of my life do what she was born for.
Our daughter, Elise, is only four years old. When she moves, she’s all Aurora. But when she falls, she throws a mini tantrum every single time. That’s me. I’ll take credit for that one.
Aurora catches me staring and gives me that look—the one that says I’m waiting for you to come to fuck me after this. Which I will. We can’t go a day without sex. It’s like we need each other to function.
Sometimes I scare myself with how much I love her. The obsession didn’t fade; it evolved. It grew with me. It’s in my bloodstream now.
There are nights I wake up and just watch her sleep, and I have to physically stop myself from pulling her against me so tight that she could never leave—from stitching our skin together so there’s no space between us at all.
She wouldn’t even flinch. She’d probably laugh and tell me I’m insane. And then she’d kiss me.
She loves every unhinged part of me, the same way I love every brilliant, impossible part of her. We were never meant to be normal. We were meant to burn.
The company—her company now—is thriving. She runs it like she dances: with heart and fire.
The Morelli Conservatory is known worldwide, and I’ve watched her somehow make it even better.
She still dances sometimes, not so much for audiences anymore, but for herself. For me. For our little girl.
And when she does, it feels like a religious experience.
I thought I knew what power was before Aurora. Money. Control. Fear. None of it compares to her.
Heaven couldn’t be better than this—than coming home to her laughter, to our daughter’s tiny feet thumping down the hallway, to the warmth that never existed in my life before her.
I walk into the studio and she turns, one brow arched. “You’re back home early,” she teases.
“Couldn’t help myself,” I say, pulling her close, ignoring the faint smell of chalk and perfume and childhood that clings to her.
She grins up at me. “Still obsessed?”
“Every damn day,” I murmur against her skin.
Some men find peace in religion, others in redemption.
I found mine in Aurora.
And I’ll never stop worshipping her.
Elise bolts toward me, her tiny slippers tapping against the floor.
“Daddy! Did you see my spin?”
I scoop her up. “You mean that perfect triple pirouette?” I ask, and she giggles, resting her head on my shoulder.
“It was two,” she pouts.
“Then it was the best two spins I’ve ever seen in my life.”
She beams, dimples deep, so much like her mother it hurts.
Elise stretches her arms toward her mother. “Mommy, Daddy said I did three spins.”
“Of course he did,” Aurora says. “He’s your biggest fan.”
“Correction, I’m both of yours.”
Aurora laughs, and she will never realize how much she undoes me with that sound.
“Lucian,” Aurora calls softly. “Come dance with us.”
Elise is already on her feet again, holding out her tiny hand.
I groan. “Little muse, you know I don’t dance.”
“You do when I ask nicely.”
I stand, scoop Elise into my arms, and twirl her around while Aurora joins in, moving gracefully even in her bare feet.
My girls. My entire universe.
Somehow, against every dark piece of me that knows I don’t deserve this, I got everything I ever wanted.
Cassian Morelli coming next…
Thank you so much for reading!