Page 89 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

Rowan takes my hand and leads me away from all of it. Around a corner, down a short corridor, into a small alcove carved into the wall where the noise fades.

He cups my face with both hands. His knuckles are split and his blood smears across my cheekbones, warm and metallic.

“Come here.” He kisses me hard enough to bruise, hands shaking against my jaw.

The hard planes of his muscles force my body to mold to him.

"Are you okay, sunshine?" Russian wraps around the words. "Moye solnyshko."

"I should be asking you that." I press my hands over his, holding his palms against my face, his blood on my skin. "I'm sorry, Rowan. For everything you've been carrying."

His thumbs trace my cheekbones. His breathing is ragged, still coming down, and the blue of his eyes burns darker.

"I loved her." The words come out rough, as if pulled from a locked box he hasn't opened in decades. "My first wife. Nikolai's mother. She was gentle and kind and she loved our boy."

My throat tightens. I stay quiet so he can share the burden of his past with me.

"My father wouldn't tolerate a woman holding my attention. He considered it a weakness in a pakhan." Rowan's jaw works, the muscles along his temple bunching and releasing. "He had her killed."

The words hit me with the weight of cold water. Had her killed. My heart constricts.

"Oh my God." My fingers tighten over his.

“I was raised to be a murderer who could never love. After she was taken from me, I swore to never open my heart again. To never put another sweet soul in danger. I’ve done both now with you. I’ve fallen for you despite the odds, Cora. I love you.” His kiss is warm and tender, fused with all the passion I feel in his words.

“And I love you, Rowan. Never doubt that.”

I can feel the warmth of his body heat and I want to fall into his arms and forget about everything. Forget the pain, forget the past. But neither of us has that luxury.

“Is he still alive? Your father?"

"Da. We haven't spoken in decades." He pauses. His thumb brushes my cheekbone, spreading the blood in a warm streak. "I suspect with Nikolai in Chicago, my father is near the end. The old guard would not have pushed their weapon forward unless the hand holding it was failing."

I rise to the tips of my toes. Bring my mouth close enough to his that our breath mingles, coffee and copper and adrenaline.

"Yes."

His body goes still. His thumbs stop moving on my face. "Yes to what, sunshine?"

"You asked me to marry you."

For two solid heartbeats his expression doesn’t shift. But when the words settle, his eyes light up and the smile on his face makes my heart swell with renewed love for the man. He wraps his arms around me. Lifts me off the floor and holds me to him. I throw my arms around his neck and absorb this moment for the miracle it is.

"You've given me hope again." His voice is thick and rough with the same emotions clogging my throat. "Moye solnyshko. My sunshine."

"You've given me the same." I press my face against his neck, his pulse hammering against my cheek. "You've given me a safe place and I can't imagine being anywhere else."

I pull back. Look up at him. Glass dust catches in the gray at his temples and glitters under the alcove light.

"We should talk about the cabin, though." I pull back long enough to look him in the eye, but I don’t loosen my hold on him. "We can't raise a baby in a stone cavern. And there's my flower shop to rebuild, the lease, the insurance nightmare. Plus the garden beds on the terrace need better soil. I have ideas on how to make it a blooming oasis of wild flowers."

Rowan smiles down at me like I am the light of his heart.

"Anything you want. It's yours."

"I just want you." I take his hands, lace our fingers together. "And there has to be a way to fix your relationship with your son."

"One sin at a time." He squeezes my fingers. "But da. I agree."