Page 119 of Wicked Sinner
"A proper ceremony. Something public, something that makes it clear this isn't just a quick, secret marriage to get one over on him. He wants to see that you're both committed to this choice. And he wants everyone else to see it, too."
Relief floods through me. A ceremony—I can do that. Hell, I want to do that. I’d already planned to ask Bridget to marry me again.
"Thank you.” I look at Tristan, sincerity in my voice. "For talking to Konstantin, for… everything."
He grins. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to work together, and I still don't trust you completely."
"Fair enough. I don’t trust you completely, either.” I smirk at him, and he laughs.
"At least we're honest about it. That's progress."
The drive home gives me time to think, to plan. Bridget wants to stay married to me, Konstantin has agreed to let it happen, and now I have the chance to do this right. To give her the proposal she deserves, the wedding she wants, the choice I should have given her from the beginning.
By the time I reach the penthouse, I know exactly what I'm going to do.
I find Bridget in the kitchen, heating up leftover takeout and humming softly to herself. She looks up when I enter, and her face lights up with a smile that makes my chest feel tight with an emotion that I’ve never felt before.
"How did it go?" she asks.
"Better than expected." I wrap my good arm around her waist and pull her close. "Konstantin has agreed to let our marriage stand."
"Really?" The relief in her voice is obvious. "Just like that?"
I pause. "Not exactly. He wants us to have a proper ceremony, something public that makes it clear we're choosing each other."
She studies my face. "And how do you feel about that?"
Instead of answering with words, I drop to one knee right there in the kitchen. Her eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth with her hands.
"Bridget," I begin carefully, "I know we're already married. I know we've been through hell together, and I know the way our story started was far from perfect. But I want to do this right."
"I love you," I continue, looking up into her beautiful hazel eyes. "I love your strength and your stubbornness and the way you challenge me to be better. I love that you chose me, not because you had to, but because you wanted to. Will you marry me again, Bridget? Will you be my wife, not because of any reason other than that we love each other?"
Her eyes are bright with tears, but she's smiling as she nods. "Yes," she whispers. "Yes, I'll marry you again."
I’m on my feet faster than I thought possible, reaching for her to kiss her. She throws her arms around my neck, careful of my injured shoulder, and kisses me like her life depends on it.
"I love you, Caesar Genovese," she whispers against my lips.
"I love you too, Mrs. Lewis-Genovese."
We're going to have challenges ahead. There will always be dangers in this life, always threats to navigate and enemies to face. But we'll face them together, as partners, as equals, as two people who chose each other against all odds.
And that makes us stronger than any force that could ever try to tear us apart.
EPILOGUE
BRIDGET
The morning light streaming through the windows of Caesar's penthouse feels different this morning. Softer, somehow. More golden. I'm standing in front of the full-length mirror in what used to be the guest bedroom and is now officially once again that and nothing more, smoothing my hands down the silk of my wedding dress for what feels like the hundredth time in the last hour.
It's not the dress I would have picked six months ago. Hell, six months ago I never would have imagined I'd be getting married at all, let alone to a man like Caesar Genovese. But here I am, wearing a gown that probably costs more than I used to make in three months at the shop, preparing to walk down the aisle in front of Miami's most powerful families to marry the man who kidnapped me, held me prisoner, and somehow managed to make me fall completely, irrevocably in love with him.
The dress is beautiful. Ivory silk that flows like water over my curves, with thin straps and a modest neckline that still manages to flatter my figure perfectly. I know Caesar is going to love it.
Jenny finishes sliding the last pin into my hair. “You look stunning,” she promises me, smiling over my shoulder. “And you better not ever disappear on me again.”
The first thing I did, after Caesar proposed to me again, was call my best friend and ask her to come over. Once she got over her initial shock at seeing the penthouse, Caesar made himself scarce while she and I talked for hours, and I filled her in on everything that happened.
