Camille could not stop thinking about the way Dante kissed her ring finger.
It stayed in her head the entire night.
The look in his eyes afterward. The silence. The certainty.
Nothing about it felt casual.
And somehow that terrified her more than if he had actually proposed.
Because Dante Moretti was not impulsive when it came to important things.
If he decided something
he meant it completely.
The next morning, Camille stood alone on the penthouse balcony wrapped in one of Dante's black shirts while the city slowly woke beneath her.
Cool wind brushed against her skin softly.
Her mind kept replaying memories.
The beginning. The chaos. The fear.
And now somehow
this.
Peace.
Love.
A future.
Strong arms suddenly wrapped around her waist from behind.
Dante.
Camille relaxed instantly against him.
"You disappeared," he murmured softly against her hair.
"I was thinking."
"Dangerous activity."
She smiled faintly.
"You're one to talk."
