Chapter 19 #2
"And if I hadn't told you?"
"You would have." The corner of my mouth pulls. "The woman who deleted those files before walking into a firefight was never going to keep that secret forever. I know you, Onyx. Better than you think."
She stares at me from across the desk, her blue eyes bright, the scar on her temple catching the light, her lower lip trembling in a way she'd deny if I pointed it out.
"You trusted me to do the right thing."
"Da." I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. "And you did."
She unfolds from the chair. Crosses the office in four barefoot strides and climbs into my lap on the couch, her knees bracketing my hips, her hands gripping my face the way she always does when she needs me to hear what she's about to say with more than my ears.
"I love you. I love you and I'm done keeping insurance against the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Good." I pull her closer, my hands settling on her hips, her weight warm and solid against my chest. "Because I have something I want to ask you and I'd prefer you not be guarded when I do."
Her eyebrows climb. "What?"
I reach behind me to the side table drawer and for the first time in forty-four years my pulse kicks up for a reason that has nothing to do with violence. The ring has been in there for a week, tucked inside a velvet box. I pull it out and hold it between us.
Her eyes drop to the box. Back to my face. Back to the box.
"Kon."
"Marry me." I open the lid. The ruby catches the light from the desk lamp, deep red surrounded by diamonds that throw sparks across her cheekbones.
I chose it because the ruby is the color of my roses, dark and vivid and impossible to ignore, and the diamonds catch light the way her eyes do when she's about to argue with me.
"I just need you to know that I want fifty years of you stealing my shirts and butchering my roses and asking questions I don't want to answer. "
She stares at the ring. Her chest rises on a breath she holds for so long I start to worry.
"Konstantin Vetrov." Her chin crumples and her blue eyes flood so fast the tears spill before she can blink them back. "You ridiculous, infuriating, overprotective, Beast of a man."
"Is that a yes?"
She gently slips the ring from the box and offers it to me. I slide it onto her finger.
It fits perfectly. The ruby glows against her skin, warm and deep, and the sight of it on her hand hits me square in the chest with a force of love I will never feel for anyone else as long as I live.
"Da," she says in my native language. She cups my face and presses her forehead against mine. "It's always been yes."
I kiss her. Deep and unhurried and tasting like coffee and salt and the future I didn't think I deserved until she walked through my door with blue eyes and a bad attitude and demanded to know why I grow flowers.
We celebrate. The office first, her back against the desk, scattering pages and pens, my name on her lips and the ruby flashing on her finger every time her hand grips my shoulder.
Then the hallway. Then the bedroom, where I take my time because my arm aches and my side pulls and she deserves slow, thorough attention from the man who just asked her to spend her life with him.
Afterward, tangled in the sheets, her cheek against my chest, she traces the ring in the afternoon light.
"Ruby." She holds her hand up, watching the stone catch the sun. "Like your roses."
"Like your fire." I press my lips to the top of her head. "Moy огонёк. My little flame."
"That's going to be in your vows, isn't it?"
"Da."
"I'm writing mine in journalist style. Concise. Hard-hitting. Maybe with footnotes."
"I'd expect nothing less."
She reaches for her phone on the nightstand and dials Sloane on speaker. The phone rings twice before a voice cuts through that could strip paint.
"If you're calling me from bed with that man, I swear to God, Onyx Rose Malone."
Onyx grins at the ceiling. "I'm calling you from bed with this man most definitely."
The shriek that comes through the speaker could crack the windows Brennan didn't get to. I wince. Onyx laughs, the sound bright and free and filling every corner of the room.
"I KNEW IT. I knew it the second you described his breakfast routine.
Nobody talks about scrambled eggs like that unless they're in love.
When's the wedding? Can I be maid of honor?
Obviously I'm maid of honor. Does he have single brothers?
Wait, they're all married, right? Or am I wrong? I hope I’m wrong. "
"Sloane. Breathe."
"I will NOT breathe. My best friend is marrying a Russian built like a Greek god. This is the greatest day of my life. Show me the ring. RIGHT NOW."
“How the heck did you know? I didn’t have a chance to say anything!”
I'm right there with Onyx on that one. How the hell did she know?
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but–”
“Mm-hmm. Can I see the ring now?”
Onyx angles the phone so the camera catches the ruby on her finger. The second shriek is louder than the first.
"RUBY. Onyx, that man bought you a ruby. That's a forever stone. That's an I-will-burn-down-the-world-for-you stone. You found a good one, babe."
"I know." Onyx looks at me. Her blue eyes soft, the scar on her temple catching the light, the ring glowing on her finger. "I really did."
I take the phone from her hand. "Sloane."
Dead silence on the other end. Then, cautiously: "Hi. Hello. Beast man."
"Dinner. This weekend. Bring wine. I'll cook. Deal?"
Another silence. Then, "Oh my God. He's inviting me to dinner. At the lair. Onyx, he's inviting me to DINNER."
"He does that. He feeds people. It's his love language with family and friends."
"I'll be there. With wine. And questions. SO MANY questions."
"You’re Onyx’s best friend so I'm counting on it." I hand the phone back to Onyx and press my lips to her temple, right over the scar. "Your friend is loud."
"She's perfect." Onyx ends the call and tosses the phone onto the nightstand. She turns into me, her hand settling on my chest, her body warm and loose and entirely mine. "Thank you. For inviting her."
"She matters to you. So she matters to me."
Onyx is quiet for a moment, her thumb tracing lazy circles over the rose tattoo. Then her hand drifts down and settles on her stomach. Her expression turns pensive. I sense her needing to tell me something I already know, but I wait for her to make the first move.
I have a feeling this is about the pharmacy bag on the bathroom counter. She’s left it unopened since the day I put it there.
I press my lips to her hair and let the warmth of her body carry me to sleep.
Whatever comes next, we face it together.