Page 145 of Manic

“Are you insane?” I hissed, facing forward. “I’m not doing that.”

“Oh, come on, Hale. It’s not like you don’t have breaking and entering on your rap sheet. Too scared?”

My face flamed at my old nickname, and at the fact that I used to break into libraries. Old me. But he only called me that when he was teasing and in a wild mood. And I wasn’t in the mood.

“No,” I said coolly. “I’d just rather not get thrown back to Vancouver if I can help it.”

The street curved along the edge of the lake, and when we turned another corner, the villa came into view. My breath hitched.

It was perfect.

It had pale stone walls and a clay roof with an iron terrace on the second floor. Star jasmine climbed up the stone, wrapping around the black paned windows with white flowers. A small fountain rested in the center of the cobbled path leading toward the front door. The villa wasn’t huge, but it was big enough that we wouldn’t need to move if we ever decided to have children.

I swallowed as the thought brushed my mind. Children.

Who knew I’d be thinking about starting a family after what we went through just months ago? I quickly pushed it aside when Manic let me go, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, glancing around.

No one, not even a bird, was nearby.

“Deadly,” he said. “Come on. I’ll check one of the windows.”

“A window?”

I groaned again and hurried to his side, following him between the dark green hedges. We came up to the arched window overlooking the lake in the distance, the morning sun reflecting off the water. Manic jiggled the latch. It immediately gave, and he threw me the most devilish grin. He hopped onto the windowsill and offered me his hand.

His knuckles were bare—free of the tattoos from before. He had them removed before we left British Columbia. That was the only thing I’d allowed him to laser off.

I huffed quietly, handing him my coffee before letting him pull me up. A breath whooshed from me when I landed inside, his body warm against mine.

Manic encircled his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “I say we take another tour and fuck in one of the rooms.”

“Sounds exciting.” I rolled my eyes, even though my pulse fluttered.

Then I yelped, warmth spreading over me as he spun me around, his body curling over mine. I rested my hands on his forearms as we walked through each room, and he nestled his chin on my shoulder. Sunlight spilled through the windows, showcasing the warm stucco walls and the tile of the kitchen floor. Open shelves sat on one side.

“You’re torturing me,” I mumbled.

We shuffled down the hall together, toward the living area that had an open view of the water and a porch. I loved it because it had its own bookshelves and wide, arched windows. I could see my whole life in that room—cozy in a chair with a book in hand. A dream.

“You know I love you, right?” he whispered, the warmth of his words unfurling against my ear.

My breathing stuttered, my body locking into place. I went to face him, but he tightened his arms, holding me captive as he forced us forward.

“If it weren’t for you,” he said softly, “I’m not sure I would have had the courage to leave on my own, but I think I was just waiting for you.” He swept a tendril of hair off my neck. “Before we left Vancouver, I told you we’d move to Lake Como, buy a villa of your choosing, own a café or a bookshop, and then I’d make you my wife.”

My pulse drummed harder when we stepped into the living area, littered with pink and white peony petals, four books, and two chess pieces resting in the center of the room.

The queen and the rook.

Tears welled in my eyes when he held up a pair of keys on a pale oval keychain. Everything became blurry, and a sob escaped me as he slowly turned me around. He tilted my face, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“I tried talking myself into waiting,” he said, his voice cracking enough to send a river of tears down my cheeks. “But I can’t wait. The villa is ours, and I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”

Something like a half cry, half laugh escaped me as I asked, “Are you asking me or demanding me?”

He laughed, the sound light and filled with so much love. I knew he loved me—I felt it every day, now more than ever. He was different than before, but it was captivating and raw. Honest.