Epilogue
ROMAN
T he city stretches out below us, a sea of glittering lights. But it’s nothing compared to her.
I unlock the penthouse door and step aside, letting Ivy walk in first. It's the only time I intend to let her lead.
She hesitates like she expects traps. Or maybe cameras. Maybe she’s right on both counts.
But then she crosses the threshold.
My breath catches. It shouldn’t feel like a victory, but it does.
I watch her take in the space—dark marble floors, high glass windows, walls lined with first editions and the soft hum of a hidden sound system looping piano sonatas. A single light hangs over the sleek black dining table like a low moon.
“I thought it’d be all chrome and dead things,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing across the back of a leather chair.
“It was,” I say, shrugging off my jacket. “Before you.”
Her laugh is small. But it’s real.
“Ezra is going to regret choosing her.” Ivy taps her fingers on the island. “If you thought I was a hard one, she’s going to break that man and laugh while she does it.”
“He’s used to chasing his prey.” I tell her, “He’s always enjoyed the hunt more than the kill.”
“For you, is that it? The chase?” Ivy’s eyes are locked on me, and I hesitate for a fraction of a second before giving her the truth.
“I thought so.” The admission burns. “Before you. Once I heard your voice for the first time, I knew. I’d been hunting, chasing, stalking…
all of it while I was searching for you.
I’ll probably always have the bloodlust. Be willing to kill.
Want to, even. But you’re the only thing in my life I want to chase. ”
“Good.” She smiles and I know I said the right thing when she kisses me, and then brushes right by.
She walks past the kitchen, only pauses when she sees the espresso machine and the way I’ve arranged the silver spoons in perfect alignment before she keeps going. I follow her through the penthouse like a shadow.
At the bedroom doorway, I reach past her and open it.
“This is where you dreamed about caging me?” she asks, dry as ever.
I step into the darkened room and turn on a lamp. The bed is enormous. The sheets crisp. The only place in this city I’ve ever allowed myself to sleep soundly. I look over my shoulder. “A thousand times. In every way you can imagine. Every moment of the day until I had you.”
She doesn’t look disgusted.
She walks to the floor-to-ceiling window and presses her fingertips to the glass. “This isn’t a cage, Roman.”
“No,” I say, crossing to her. “It’s a throne. And I didn’t even realize it at the time, but I built it for you.”
I slip my arms around her waist, and this time, she lets me. Her body leans into mine—like she’s not afraid anymore. Or maybe like she is, but she’s decided that doesn’t matter.
“I want to do something.” Ivy tells me. “Go back to work.”
I press a kiss to her shoulder, to the soft place just below her ear. Her breath catches.
Then she turns.
“I know.” I tell her. “I’ve been making moves since the first time I read your work logs. You’re skilled. I’ll show you the office. Your office. After.”
I kiss her.
“Remind me to tell you about the Phoenix program.”
Her fingers go to the buttons of my shirt, and everything else I would have said is lost. She doesn’t rush. Each one is undone like a decision she’s making. One she already knows the answer to.
She pushes the fabric off my shoulders.
I lift her and carry her to the bed.
But I don’t take her like I’ve fantasized.
I let her come to me. I let her take control.
She kisses me like she wants to punish me for everything I’ve done to her—then kisses me again like she wants to remember it forever.
She whispers, “Make me forget everything that came before you.”
I will.
And I will make damn sure she never remembers a world where she didn’t belong to me.