Page 98 of Wicked Fortune

I glance around at the rooftop. “It’s beautiful,” I say, “but I didn’t need the grand gesture. I just needed …” I trail off with a shrug. Because there’s only one thing I need. The only thing I think I’ll ever truly need. “I just need you,” I say, my throat clogging with tears.

He hurries to me, then pulls me into his arms, and before I know it, I’m lost in a kiss, soft at first, then deeper as he pulls me closer, his arms wrapping around me like he never wants to let go.

Honestly, I know the feeling.

When we finally break apart, both of us breathless, he reaches out and strokes my hair. “Aria, baby, I wish you’d told me you didn’t need grand gestures earlier.” His face is alight with humor. “I went to all this trouble.”

I laugh as I take another look around the roof. “You did a damn good job.” I brush my fingertip over his jaw, enjoying the feel of his beard stubble on my skin. “If you have a blanket, maybe we could christen the roof before heading back down.”

His mouth twitches. “I think we can add that to the agenda. But that wasn’t the grand gesture I was talking about.”

I shake my head, confused. Then even more confused when he slips into the shadows and then returns with something that looks like a hatbox.

“For you,” he says.

I take it, both curious and delighted. I set it on one of the nearby tables, then untie the bow that’s holding the box closed.

Slowly, I take off the lid, then gasp when I see what’s inside.

The diadem.

My family’s diadem.

Carefully, I lift it from the box. Its diamonds catch the firelight, scattering it in a million directions. And there, at the point, is the priceless yellow diamond.

“Oh, God, Matthew. Tell me you didn’t steal it back. I don’t think I can⁠—”

“No.” The word is hard. Firm. “It had been sold five times in private sales. It took a hell of a lot of doing, but I tracked it down. I bought it, baby. Free and clear.”

I gape at him. “It must have cost a fortune.” It was already priceless when Vivien Lorainne owned it, and over time the diamond would only become more valuable. Add in the history—the Hollywood connection, the theft—and the price would have increased simply because of the story behind the stone.

He shrugs. “I had to give you back the diadem your family lost. That diamond was my rock that launched all of this.” He gestures to the building below us and the studio backlot below. “And that diadem is the start of a path that led me to you. I owe your family everything that means anything to me. Especially you. So nothing less than returning it would do.”

“I—” I shake my head. It’s the only thing I’m capable of, as words have completely abandoned me.

“After that night—after I got you away from those monsters—I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were so strong, so resilient. You fascinated me.”

“Matthew …”

“Wait. Let me finish.” He looks down, his shoulders rising and falling with a heavy breath before he lifts his head and meets my eyes.

“I watched you grow up, Aria. At first, I’d just check in every few months to make sure you were okay. I felt a responsibility—not because I’d got you away from those prick babysitters, and not because I’d stolen the diadem. Just … I don’t know. Just to make sure you were safe. And you were. You’re gentle and vulnerable and quirky, Aria. But you’re so damn strong, too.”

He draws a breath. “But then years passed and you moved to Los Angeles, right into my backyard. I started watching more closely. I knew you didn’t have a steady job, and I thought I might help, but then I realized that was part of who you were. Part of that fire you have inside you. And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with you, even though I had no right to.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy and raw. Tears spill down my cheeks, and I don’t bother wiping them away.

“I can’t change the past. But I love you, Aria. I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, I can’t speak. I can’t even breathe. The diadem trembles in my hands, and I set it down on the table before I drop it. Then I take a step toward him.

And another.

Then I’m in his arms, his warmth wrapping around me like a shield against the cold night air as tears of relief and joy spill down my cheeks. His hold is tight, almost desperate, like he’s afraid I might slip away. And for the first time in days, I feel whole again.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest. “God help me, I love you, too.”

He tilts my chin up with his finger, and his dark eyes search mine. Then he kisses me, slow and tender, his lips warm against mine. A kiss of hope. Of promises.