Page 210 of Damián

“You are not leaving me.”

“I’m not good for you or your family, Damián.” I throw the words out desperately, hoping mentioning his family will finally knock some sense into him.

He needs to understand why I have to walk away. He needs to understand that being with me is not safe.

Instead, his expression turns even angrier than before.

“Don’t ever fucking say that again, Oliver.”

“Dami…” My voice cracks, and I rip my gaze away, fighting hard to hold back my tears. “Please. Your family was attacked. You got shot. And Björn almost died.”

“I always get shot at. And Björn always almost dies.” He lets out a dark, breathless laugh.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is a little bit.”

I look away, and he puts his hands on my knees.

“Oliver, I appreciate that you are trying to protect me, but the only one who can decide what is best for me is me.”

“Damián…”

“I want you as a man; I want you in my life; I want you in every sense of the word.”

“But—”

“I love you, Oliver,” he says, and my entire world stops.

Damián loves me? I gasp.

He loves me…

My body trembles with an unknown energy, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. My stomach flutters, and my chest swells as if my skin is the only thing preventing me from bursting like a firework.

I’m so happy I feel giddy, and my eyes fill with tears.

And I never thought it was physically possible to be any happier than I am right now. At least, not until Damián stands up from the coffee table and drops down to one knee.

“Oh… my God…”

He smiles, his eyes looking at me with an absolute certainty and a vulnerability that makes my knees weak.

“Oliver West, I love you with everything I have, for everything you are. And I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you are as happy as you make me.”

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a small velvet box, and flips it open.

I gasp.

Holy shit, this is really happening…

Inside the box is the most gorgeous ring I have ever seen. It isn’t gold or platinum; this ring is forged from black Damascus steel, with a fine line made of hundreds of tiny pieces of crushed red opal running straight through the middle.

“Please marry me, Oliver,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine.

Tears burn in my eyes, turning my vision blurry.

“Are you sure?”