Page 123 of Play Dirty

“I love you so fucking much,” I pant against his mouth.

“I love you too.”

I collapse on his chest, and we lie there in silence, the only sound that of our breathing.

“Are we engaged?” I ask after a few minutes.

He chuckles. “You put on the ring, so I’m going with yes.”

“You know this is my fourth engagement.”

“I don’t care.” He gently moves me to the side and then turns onto his, looking at me intently. “So here’s the deal. You have options.”

“Uh oh.” I can’t help but laugh.

“Option one: We go to Vegas the minute the trial is over and elope. No honeymoon since I have to get back to hockey, but we’d be married.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t think…that’s what I want.”

“Option two: We plan something elegant but small during the All-Star break in February. I might get chosen to attend but I’ll just take the one-game suspension and bow out if that happens. Doesn’t matter to me. That would mean a condensed honeymoon, but at least we’d have one.”

“And option three?” I’m suddenly excited.

“We wait until next summer and plan the wedding of your dreams. Paris, New York, Hawaii—wherever you want. Every bell and whistle you always dreamed of.”

“What doyouwant?” I ask after a moment.

“I just want you to be my wife.”

“I’ve cried about seventeen times today,” I sniff. “And I might do it again if you keep talking like that. But I want option number three. Just not Paris.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Paris was the dream with three other guys, so I don’t want to?—”

“Is Paris still the wedding dream?” he interrupts. “Forget the other guys, broken engagements, all the bullshit. Just think about us and our wedding… the one you want to have withme. Is Paris the dream?”

I hate to admit it, but I nod.

“Then Paris. Next summer.”

* * *

“…onthe count of aggravated assault, we the jury, find Damien Pritchard…guilty.”

I sag in relief and half the courtroom starts to clap.

Damien’s face is a mask of fury as he glares at me, but I avert my gaze, looking down at the diamond on my hand.

My engagement ring.

Because Marty wants me to be his wife.

We were up half the night talking, making plans, and getting ready to move into the next phase of our life. I have to go back to Paris for a few weeks—I left most of my stuff at the apartment there plus I have an obligation to Madame Bertrand—but I’ll be able to travel back and forth once we find a nanny and get into a routine. I probably won’t work in November and December because our goal is to sell his house and buy something together. Some place new, where we can start over and celebrate the holidays if we can do it quickly.

And now I can close the door on my past.

Not all of it, but definitely from the Damien incident.

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