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"You say that as though it's meant to reassure me."

"You accepted my last proposal at gunpoint. My standards have improved."

"Then you'll ask properly this time." She doesn't take her hand back. "Flowers. A speech. On your knees would be a nice touch—though the last time you had me over a sink in my parents' bathroom. You left me halfway there and strolled back out for dessert. So you'll forgive me if I want it in writing."

"That was tactics."

"That was very poor manners." She smooths my collar, perfectly serene. "My mother would have been appalled. I was appalled. I was also, regrettably, extremely turned on, which is the only reason you will be allowed to go on a honeymoon with me instead of serving you a restraining order."

"With you, they're the same thing." I turn her hand over and kiss the palm. "You know I tried to sell our plots when you left. Your name is already on the stone, so that made it difficult. Told Constantine to get rid of them." A beat. "He came back and said someone had already bought the pair." I kiss her palm again. "Turned out to be me. Some people are just obsessive. So don't lecture me about signed pages."

Her mouth fights a smile and gives up a little groan.

"You lie…”

“I made you smile though. Wouldn’t give them up at any price.”

“Is this insanity your idea of romance?"

"It's working, though." She laughs then, in earnest. Getting off the bed, she goes in the shower and gets ready in record time. "Pack a bag tonight," I say as I enjoy myself watching her dress.

She stops with one arm in her coat. "Why?"

"Because I'm taking you away. Ten days, somewhere warm. Somewhere neither of our families has business or anyone who owes them money. Constantine's already booked the flights."

"Constantine has." She turns around. "And when was I going to be asked?"

"You weren't. Asking has never been the quick way to get anything done." I sit up against the headboard and enjoy watching her temper climb.

"So you've booked us a honeymoon."

"Not a honeymoon. We're not married. You keep reminding me." I reach for my watch. "It's a holiday. We never had one the first time. I married you, and a week later we were at war. You're owed ten days on a beach where nobody's trying to put anyone in the ground. The honeymoon comes later, once you let me put a ring back on your finger."

Her expression changes, and she's back being herself. I know she's not pleased with me, but this time around I was willing to take a risk.

"You don't get to decide things for me anymore." She waves a hand at me. "That was the whole point, Laszlo. You know it was."

"I know." I learned that one the hard way. "So I'm not forcing you onto the plane. I'm asking. There's a bag, there's a flight, and there's a beach where nobody wants either of us dead. Come, or stay and nothing changes. Either way I'm still yours. I love you, always will. But only one of those options gets you ten days of me with my phone off and no funerals to run to." I look at her. "It's your choice. It's always your choice now. You made sure of that the night you burned our house down."

Our house, not my house. I want her to understand that. She crosses the room, takes my face in both hands, and kisses me like she wants me feeling it through every hour of the surgery I'm not invited to.

"I'll pack a bag," she says against my mouth.

"Good girl."

"You're insufferable." She’s already turning for the stairs.

"And yet you keep coming back."

Then she's gone. Her heels on the stairs, the front door, the familiar cough of her car starting up. The house goes quiet around me. Not the empty quiet of last year. The quiet of a place she's coming back to.

* * *

I've got a man open on my table by mid-morning: a fool who died owing three families money he never had. Cleanest thing that ever happened to him, if you ask me. I work. Hands are steady for a change. Well, all my disturbing episodes have stopped the moment Manon came back, my head is quiet. All I can think about right now is the beach and Manon packing our bags without any order or plan.

There's not a single one of my men following her—that won’t change. I’ll keep my word, even now that she's back in my bed. It's the hardest thing I've ever made myself do because everything in me wants her protected. I just want it to be her choice more than mine. I am the most powerful man in New York, and no matter what I will find the compromise.

I'm halfway through rebuilding the man's jaw, moving mechanically. My mind’s not really in it. Instead I'm thinking about all the places I’m going to take her. I’m going to make sure she gets the sleep she needs and a good dose of sunshine. I'm a fucking lost cause.