Page 252 of Lethal King

There’s only one thing missing.

Well, maybe two.

“Why ruin a good thing?” I shrug.

“Since when has my guardian angel ever been satisfied with what she has?”

My dipping heart perks back up as I remember all that I’ve gained over the past year.

A partner. A home. An empire.

A warmth to help fill the cold emptiness inside.

“Since I got you,” I sheepishly admit.

It’s true. Even with all the uncertainty still swirling around us, the past three months have been the best of my life.

There’s no pressure to be anything but exactly what I want to be. And I know that’s not going to change any time soon. Rian is my protector. Any time there’s even an indication that someone might start pressuring us to follow a path we don’t want to go down, he steps in the way. He takes my hand and pulls me to his side. We walk together. Everywhere.

“I love you,” Rian says. Leaning down, he kisses my forehead, then lets go of my hand. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

“Such a brave girl,” Rian teases.

“Don’t test your luck,” I gently bite back.

“You love it.”

“I love you,” I remind him.

But he’s not wrong. I love our banter. I love our playfulness. I love how we jump from job to job, fixing the cracks in our growing empire, getting our hands dirty, leading by example.

I love how we’re here today to bargain with the Italians because they’re still pissed Rian has chosen never to marry. I love that I’ve made such a powerful man choose me over tradition. I love what we have, whatever the hell that is.

I love how special he makes me feel.

“I know,” Rian smiles. Stepping aside, he pulls aside the big wooden ballroom door. “After you, my queen.”

“Be careful saying that around the Italians,” I chuckle, seductively brushing by him. “They might think you want to marry me.”

“Angel, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I want every second of that life to be filled with happiness. I know you well enough to know that a ring will only get in the way.”

“A ring is nothing more than a pretty cage,” I remind him.

“And I’m never locking you up again,” he says, nudging me forward. “At least, not outside of the bedroom.”

My back furls as I brush by him. A warm pressure appears in my core.

No matter how many times I’ve had this man, it’s never enough.

But now is not to think about wanting more.

I need to concentrate.

“Behave,” I whisper.

Together, we walk into the lavish ballroom. The walls seem to stretch up into the cloud. Room-sized chandeliers hang from the ceilings. Ahead, I spot a long wooden table. It sits in the middle of it all.