Page 273 of Merciless Daddy

I opened her door. She stepped out. The cold caught her hair and lifted it across her cheek. I wanted to move it back. I did not.

Not yet.

Inside, she took off her coat. I took it from her only after she handed it to me. We crossed the quiet rooms together. The house smelled faintly of cedar, coffee from that morning, the orange-blossom pastry Katerina had forced us to take home.

On the terrace, the notebook waited on the small table beside two untouched glasses of water.

Yelena stopped.

Her face softened when she saw it.

“Sal.”

I picked it up. My hands had been steady while men pointed guns at me. They had been steady while I signed orders that changed the course of entire operations.

They were not steady now.

I opened the notebook.

“I cannot write the next hope for you,” I said.

Her eyes filled at once.

“I do not want to decide what you should want. Not ever. I do not want to make a beautiful prison out of care. I have been afraid of that from the beginning.”

“Sal—”

“I need you to let me say this.”

She nodded.

I set the notebook down and lowered myself to one knee.

The world narrowed.

Her breath caught. One hand rose to her mouth.

I took the ring box from my pocket.

“I spent my whole life believing that men like me do not get to keep soft things,” I said. “I thought the responsible thing was to stop wanting them. To be useful. To be dependable. To give my family everything and ask for nothing that could be taken away.”

My voice almost failed. I made it continue.

“Then I met you. You were angry. You were brave. You insulted me with complete confidence. You looked at every kindness like it might have a knife hidden behind it.”

A wet laugh escaped her.

“I wanted to protect you. At first, I told myself it was strategy. Then I wanted to protect your employees. Your brother. Your impossible little bird drawings. I wanted to hear you argue with Tonio about kitchens. I wanted to watch you color beside me while you pretended you were not resting.”

Her tears fell silently.

“I do not want your gratitude because I helped bring you home. I do not want obedience because you call me Daddy. I do not want dependence because I make you feel safe.”

I opened the box.

The sapphire caught the terrace light. Pale blue. Quiet. Old. The color of her eyes when she was not trying to hide what she felt.

“I want the woman who challenges me. The woman who protects people no one else sees. The woman who loves her brother so fiercely she would burn the world for him. The woman who colors firebirds. The woman who sometimes needs to be held.”