Page 279 of Hate to Love You
Roman turns back to me slowly, his eyes darkening. He takes one step, then another, before he prowls lethally toward me.
“How?” He asks.
I grin.
“How did I manage to get your family, men and best friend together in Vegas, without you hearing about it?” I ask smugly.
“Well, despite you thinking that you’re God, or some one-man-army who needs to take on the world alone, it turns out you have an army of people who love you and want to see you happy. And who are pretty good at keeping secrets when they have to.”
I wink at him, amused by the shock blanketing his face.
“...And you sleep like the dead.”
“No, Abigail, I really don’t,” he chuckles softly, running his hand through his hair. “But I still don’t understand. Why did you do all this?”
“You didn’t ask me, Roman,” I state, shaking my head at him slowly. “So now you don’t get to ask.”
“You think you can escape me fucking asking?”
“Can’t escape something you never did, you idiot,” I sneer, narrowing my eyes at him. “But yeah, for the guy who empties penthouses, and constantly claims to want to marry me, I’ll admit it is a bit surprising that you never did just come out and ask me to marry you.”
Stopping before me, he threads his fingers in my hair and yanks my face toward his. His soft lips are so close to mine I can almost taste the whiskey he had before we got here, reminding me exactly how much I miss drinking.
And my greenhouse. Which is off limits to pregnant ladies.
Roman grins deeply, his blue eyes locking on mine.
“Foxy, you’ve carried your ring with you,” he says softly, pressing his lips to mine. “...Everywhere you’ve been.”
He steps away from me, extending his hand to me.
“Give me the dagger.”
Numbly, I unsheathed the dagger, flipping it in the air before placing the hilt in his outstretched palm.
Without breaking eye contact, he grips the blade, and smashes the handle against the back of the nearest chair. The brittle whalebone handle splinters into pieces, as my hands cover my face.
And before I can utter a word, he reaches down, and holds up a ring in his blooded fingers.
…The ruby ring that had sat on the hilt.
“You said “yes” the moment you took the dagger,” he grins, biting his lip. “You’ve had your ring for months.”
I can’t explain the feeling that erupts inside my chest as he says this to me, holding the ring out to me.
But then a thought sneaks into my brain and I inhale sharply before starting to giggle. That giggle quickly grows, however, bordering almost maniacal after just a few seconds.
Roman raises a brow. “Are you alright?”
“I carved slut into that bitch’s chest with that dagger!” I cackle, my sides beginning to ache. “So, in a way, I carved her up…with my fucking wedding ring!”
“Fuck me,” Ana gasps, her jaw dropping. “That was you?!”
“Fuck yes it was me,” I snort. “That slut touched my fucking man.”
“Jesus,” Jaxon mutters, tugging at his tie, only to get smacked immediately on the arm by Natalie who stares pointedly at the traumatized priest.
“You and I need to discuss who you can and cannot carve up in the office!”