Page 125 of Ruthless Beast

“Any regrets?”

“Not a one, my love. I’m so proud of you, Luke. Hmm. Luke. I’m getting the hang of this. Soon I won’t even remember what our names used to be.” I chuckle.

“I know what you mean, Ella,” Lucas grins.

We live in a beautiful little coastal town in South Africa now. We’ve been here for a few months, and I’m about to pop. The baby is healthy and growing like a weed. It must be all the fresh air and a lack of mobsters.

Life here is so tranquil. Lucas thought that leaving the American continent would be the best thing for our new family, and I must say, I agree. The little village we’re in is stunningly beautiful. We spend our days taking long walks along the ocean and watching the whales frolic and give birth just a few feet from the beach. It’s quiet, but that’s what I’ve always wanted, so no complaints here.

I feel and look very similar to the whales in the distance. My stomach is round and large. Lucas says I’m glowing. I think he’s being kind under the circumstances. He’s so sweet. Or he could be a little afraid. I'm like a yoyo at the moment. I pivot from hoy to tears at the drop of a hat. Man! Having a baby is something else.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, my love,” Lucas says as we’re shuffling along the sand.

“If it’s about my speed, or my fat ankles, you’re wasting your breath.”

“You’re funny. No. That isn’t it.”

“Good. Go ahead.”

“I’m never going to love anyone else. You’re it for me, my beauty.”

“That’s good news.”

“That said,” Lucas says and stops. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife, Emily Thornton?”

Lucas drops to his knees and opens a little velvet box. Inside is the most perfect ring I’ve ever seen.

“Lucas!”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a hell yes!”

He takes the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger.

“There you go. Perfect fit.”

“It’s beautiful, Lucas. I can’t believe it fits. My fingers feel like sausages. How did you guess the size?”

“When you’re good, you’re good.”

“Uh-huh,” I snort.

“Okay. I may have measured your little sausages while you were taking a nap.”

“Once a criminal, always a criminal,” I chuckle.

“Excuse me! You cheeky little…”

I stare at the ring while Lucas feigns emotional distress.

“I love you, Lucas.”

“I love you right back, you gorgeous creature.”

“I suppose Miller is easier to spell than Lucchese,” I tease.

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