Page 98 of Wicked Mafia Beast
"Marry me." I open the lid. The ruby catches the light from the desk lamp, deep red surrounded by diamonds that throw sparks across her cheekbones. I chose it because the ruby is the color of my roses, dark and vivid and impossible to ignore, and the diamonds catch light the way her eyes do when she's about to argue with me. "I just need you to know that I want fifty years of you stealing my shirts and butchering my roses and asking questions I don't want to answer."
She stares at the ring. Her chest rises on a breath she holds for so long I start to worry.
"Konstantin Vetrov." Her chin crumples and her blue eyes flood so fast the tears spill before she can blink them back. "You ridiculous, infuriating, overprotective, Beast of a man."
"Is that a yes?"
She gently slips the ring from the box and offers it to me. I slide it onto her finger.
It fits perfectly. The ruby glows against her skin, warm and deep, and the sight of it on her hand hits me square in the chest with a force of love I will never feel for anyone else as long as I live.
"Da," she says in my native language. She cups my face and presses her forehead against mine. "It's always been yes."
I kiss her. Deep and unhurried and tasting like coffee and salt and the future I didn't think I deserved until she walked through my door with blue eyes and a bad attitude and demanded to know why I grow flowers.
We celebrate. The office first, her back against the desk, scattering pages and pens, my name on her lips and the ruby flashing on her finger every time her hand grips my shoulder. Then the hallway. Then the bedroom, where I take my time because my arm aches and my side pulls and she deserves slow, thorough attention from the man who just asked her to spend her life with him.
Afterward, tangled in the sheets, her cheek against my chest, she traces the ring in the afternoon light.
"Ruby." She holds her hand up, watching the stone catch the sun. "Like your roses."
"Like your fire." I press my lips to the top of her head. "Moy ??????.My little flame."
"That's going to be in your vows, isn't it?"
"Da."
"I'm writing mine in journalist style. Concise. Hard-hitting. Maybe with footnotes."
"I'd expect nothing less."
She reaches for her phone on the nightstand and dials Sloane on speaker. The phone rings twice before a voice cuts through that could strip paint.
"If you're calling me from bed with that man, I swear to God, Onyx Rose Malone."
Onyx grins at the ceiling. "I'm calling you from bed with this man most definitely."
The shriek that comes through the speaker could crack the windows Brennan didn't get to. I wince. Onyx laughs, the sound bright and free and filling every corner of the room.
"I KNEW IT. I knew it the second you described his breakfast routine. Nobody talks about scrambled eggs like that unless they're in love. When's the wedding? Can I be maid of honor? Obviously I'm maid of honor. Does he have single brothers? Wait, they're all married, right? Or am I wrong? I hope I’m wrong."
"Sloane. Breathe."
"I will NOT breathe. My best friend is marrying a Russian built like a Greek god. This is the greatest day of my life. Show me the ring. RIGHT NOW."
“How the heck did you know? I didn’t have a chance to say anything!”
I'm right there with Onyx on that one. How the hell did she know?
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but–”
“Mm-hmm. Can I see the ring now?”
Onyx angles the phone so the camera catches the ruby on her finger. The second shriek is louder than the first.
"RUBY. Onyx, that man bought you a ruby. That's a forever stone. That's an I-will-burn-down-the-world-for-you stone. You found a good one, babe."
