Epilogue
ISABELLE
The sun hits my face the moment we step off the plane. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, letting the heat sink into my skin, breathing in the scent of salt and flowers and freedom.
Ibiza.
We're back.
Six months have passed since Vivienne made the call that ended the contract, and Julian and I walked out of that wreckage and into something new.
It hasn't been easy. There were nights when I woke up screaming, convinced an assassin was breaking through the door.
Days when Julian disappeared into himself, haunted by the things he's done, convinced we could never make it work.
Moments when we fought so hard, I thought we might break apart completely.
But we didn't. And now we're here, standing on the tarmac in Ibiza with our bags and our impossible love story, ready to return to the place where it all began.
"You okay?" Julian asks, his hand warm in mine.
I open my eyes and look at him. He's wearing sunglasses and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking like some kind of impossibly handsome movie star.
The Mediterranean sun loves him, catching in his dark hair and making his skin glow.
When he smiles at me, I feel my heart do that stupid fluttering thing it's been doing since the night we met.
"I'm perfect," I tell him.
We collect our bags and make our way through the small airport, past tourists in bright colors and locals who barely glance our way.
No one knows who we are here. No one knows what we've survived.
We're just another couple on vacation, holding hands and laughing as we step out into the warm afternoon.
The villa Julian rented is on the northern coast, tucked away from the main tourist areas but close enough to the clubs and beaches that we can still feel the pulse of the island.
It's beautiful—white stone and blue shutters, with a terrace that overlooks the sea and a pool that glitters like a jewel in the sunlight.
"This is incredible," I breathe as we step inside.
Julian sets our bags down and pulls me against him, his arms wrapping around my waist from behind. "I wanted it to be special," he murmurs against my neck. "This place means something to us."
I lean back into him, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart against my spine. "It's where we met."
"It's where everything started." His lips brush my shoulder. "I thought we should come back. See it differently this time."
"Without you planning to kill me?"
"That's the plan."
I turn in his arms and kiss him, slow and deep, tasting the smile on his lips. When we pull apart, I'm breathless and grinning like an idiot. "So what's the plan for tonight?" I ask.
His eyes darken, and it makes my stomach flip. "I thought we could go dancing." He traces his thumb along my jaw. "I want to take you there. I want everyone to know you're mine."
The possessiveness in his voice sends heat pooling low in my belly. Six months together, and he still makes me feel like this.
"Then let's go dancing," I whisper against his mouth.
—
The club is everything I remember and more.
The music is loud enough to feel in my chest, the bass thrumming through the floor and into my bones. Bodies move together on the dance floor, a mass of beautiful people losing themselves in the rhythm and the heat and the anonymity of the night.
But I'm not anonymous anymore. I'm here with Julian, his hand warm and possessive on my lower back as we move through the crowd.
I'm wearing a short black dress I bought specifically for tonight, cut low enough that his eyes went dark when I walked out of the bedroom.
My hair is loose and wild, my makeup dramatic, and when I catch our reflection in one of the mirrored walls, I barely recognize myself.
I look happy. I look free.
"Dance with me," Julian says, pulling me toward the floor.
We move into the crowd, and suddenly we're surrounded by bodies and music and heat. Julian's hands find my waist, pulling me close, and I wrap my arms around his neck as we start to move together.
It's different from that first night. Then, we were strangers. Two people colliding in the dark, drawn together by chemistry and alcohol and the reckless desire to lose ourselves in someone we'd never see again.
Now, we're something else entirely. Now, when he looks at me, I see love. Now, when his hands slide lower, gripping my hips and pulling me flush against him, I don't wonder if I'll ever see him again. I know I will. I know he's mine, just as surely as I'm his.
"I love you," I tell him, leaning in to be heard over the music.
His eyes flash, and he pulls me closer. "I love you too."
We dance for a long time, moving through the crowd like we're the only two people in the world.
He spins me, dips me, pulls me close, and grinds against me until I'm breathless and aching.
"You're so fucking beautiful," Julian says, his mouth against my ear.
"Do you know that? Do you know what you do to me? "
I press closer, feeling the hard length of him against my stomach. "I have some idea."
He groans, his fingers digging into my hips. "We should get out of here."
"Already?"
"If we don't leave now, I'm going to fuck you right here on this dance floor."
The words send a bolt of heat straight through me. "That doesn't sound like the worst idea to me."
"Isabelle—"
I pull back just enough to look at him, seeing the raw desire burning in his eyes, the barely controlled need that's been building all night. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's go."
He doesn't waste time. His hand finds mine, and he pulls me through the crowd. We pass the bar, the lounge areas, the clusters of people laughing and drinking and dancing, and then we're outside in the warm Ibiza night.
Julian pulls me close and kisses me hard, his hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine. I kiss him back with everything I have, tasting the whiskey on his tongue, feeling the desperate need in the way he holds me. "Villa," he growls against my mouth. "Now."
As soon as we make it back, we stumble inside, hands everywhere, mouths desperate and demanding. He kicks the door shut behind us and walks me backward toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss. "I need you," I gasp against his mouth. "Julian, I need—"
"I know." His hands find the zipper of my dress and pull it down in one smooth motion. "I know, baby. I've got you."
The dress falls to the floor, and I'm standing in front of him in nothing but black lace and heels. His eyes go dark as he takes me in, his gaze traveling slowly from my face down to my toes and back up again. "Fuck," he breathes. "You're perfect."
I reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it with shaking fingers. "Your turn."
He helps me, shrugging out of the shirt and tossing it aside.
His chest is bare and beautiful, all lean muscle and golden skin, and I run my hands over him greedily.
We make it to the bedroom somehow, shedding the rest of our clothes along the way.
By the time we reach the bed, we're both naked and desperate, our bodies pressed together as we fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.
Julian rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs, his weight pressing me into the soft sheets. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer, feeling the hard length of him against my entrance. "Please," I whisper. "Julian, please—"
He groans, wrapping his hand around himself to angle his cock against me.
He pushes inside in one smooth thrust, and we both moan.
He's so deep like this, filling me completely, and I arch my back and dig my nails into his shoulders as he starts to move.
"God, you feel good," he groans, his forehead pressed against mine.
"So fucking good, Isabelle. So perfect."
I can't speak. I cling to him as he fucks me with deep, powerful strokes that make my toes curl and my vision blur. He knows exactly how I like it—hard and fast, just rough enough to make me lose my mind.
"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice rough. "I want to feel you come around my cock."
I slide my hand between us and find my clit, circling it with shaking fingers. The added sensation makes me cry out, my body tightening around him.
"That's it," he groans. "Fuck, that's it, baby. You're so close. I can feel it."
He's right. I'm already on the edge, my body wound so tight I think I might shatter. A few more strokes and I'll be gone, lost in the pleasure that only he can give me.
But then he slows down. His thrusts turn deliberate and measured, and when I open my eyes in confusion, I find him staring at me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Julian?" My voice is shaky. "What—"
He reaches for something on the nightstand, his movements careful, and when he brings his hand back, I see it.
A ring. A beautiful, glittering, oval diamond ring that catches the moonlight streaming through the window.
My heart stops.
"Isabelle." His voice is rough with emotion, and he's still inside me, still moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that make it hard to think. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anything in my life."
I can't breathe. I can't do anything but stare at him as tears start to blur my vision.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he continues, his free hand cupping my face. "You're the reason I'm still alive. The reason I want to be better. The reason I believe in second chances."
He thrusts deeper, and I gasp, my body clenching around him. "Marry me," he says, his eyes locked on mine. "Be my wife. Let me spend the rest of my life making you happy. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."
"Yes." The word bursts out of me before he's even finished speaking. "Yes, Julian. Yes, yes, yes—" The words turn into a moan as he thrusts into me again, burying himself deep as he reaches for my hand.