Page 42 of Devil's Iris
“Did you ever get the cat when you became old enough to get one yourself?”
The question stings, but I keep smiling. “I don’t—or rather, didn’t—have the time to take care of a cat because of my jobs. I tried to pick up as many shifts as possible to keep up with the bills.” And I couldn’t trust Mom or Ethan not to sell it for drug money.
The first course arrives then—an exquisitely arranged dish of yellowfin tuna tartare topped with a delicate quail egg. It tastes so heavenly I find myself eating slower than usual just so I can savor every bite.
Across the room, the violinist starts a new song, and I let the music wash over me, completely lost in the melody. It’s one of my favorites, a classic that always makes me think of romance and happily ever after.
“You know the song?” Romero asks, and I realize I’ve been humming out loud.
I let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Who doesn’t know Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’?” There have been so many renditions of it over the years, and each one is beautiful in its own way.
“Can’t help falling in love?”
“That’s the song’s title,” I explain, cheeks going hot. “It’s one of my favorite songs.”
Thankfully, the next course arrives, providing a natural transition.
It’s the main course—butter-poached lobster for me, seared Wagyu filet for him. I enjoy each bite, the succulent lobster practically melting on my tongue.
We talk throughout the meal, conversation flowing as easilyas it did last night. Romero is a great listener, and I’ve noticed he’s especially skilled at keeping the spotlight focused on me.
He asks why my dad isn’t in the picture—he went missing and was declared dead.
Why I didn't pursue a college degree—I couldn’t afford it, not if I wanted to keep a roof over our heads.
What I dreamed of doing while I was in high school—nothing. By then I was already working, and I’d learned that dreams were just elaborate ways to break my own heart because they never came true.
Every time I try to turn the tables and ask him a question, he deflects smoothly and redirects the conversation back to me. I can see it happening, but I’m powerless to stop it. I’m not nearly as skilled at this verbal chess game as he is, the fucker. This talent is probably what makes him such a good lawyer.
We carefully avoid bringing up the contract again, but it hovers over us—the elephant in the room. It’s the real reason we’re here, after all.
By the time Romero orders dessert for me, I'm far too full to eat anything else and try to protest, but he just gives me one of his mildly amused looks that says arguing is pointless.
When our waitress returns to our table, placing a silver dome-covered tray in front of me, my heart jerks—because I know what it means.This is it. This is the moment.My pulse races frantically as she lifts the lid, revealing a chocolate soufflé dusted with gold flakes. But that’s not what makes my heart nearly burst from my chest.No.
It’s the ring nestled in the center of the tray, right next to the dessert. An oval-cut diamond, brilliant and white, set on a yellow gold band, with a halo of smaller diamonds framing it. The candlelight on the table catches on the facets, creating the illusion of it fracturing into a thousand tiny stars.
I’m still staring, mouth agape, when the scrape of Romero’s chair registers. My eyes snap up just in time to see him drop toone knee beside me, and my heart flies to my throat.Oh God. Oh God, oh God. He’s really doing this.
The gentle hum of conversation from other diners fades to nothing, and I can feel dozens of eyes watching us. Blood roars in my ears, almost deafening me, as he takes my hand from my lap, his fingers warm and strong as they wrap around mine.
“Marry me,bellezza.”
It’s not a question, but my tongue still glues to the roof of my mouth, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it.Say yes. Just say yes.I nod and force my tongue to work, my voice barely a whisper. “Y–yes.”
He smiles as he lifts the ring from the tray and slides it onto my finger. The weight is solid and heavy, settling around my finger with the finality of a shackle—a symbol.
Applause erupts around us, and then he’s standing, pulling me up with him. His hands cup my face, his pinky fingers brushing the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, sending sparks skittering through my entire body as his lips fuse with mine.
Warm pleasure coils low in my belly, rushing hot through my veins. I gasp, parting my lips instinctively, and he immediately takes advantage. My head spins as his tongue dances with mine, the kiss deeper and more intoxicating than anything I remember.
Without conscious thought, my hands flatten against his chest before sliding up to his shoulders, then threading through his hair, clutching him closer. He tastes incredible, and God help me, I wantmore.
16
ROMERO
“Romero.” The way she moans my name—Christ, it’s like a prayer and a sin rolled into one, and I can’t stop the groan that escapes my throat. My cock responds instantly, throbbing and hardening as I dig my fingers deeper into the soft skin at the nape of her neck. She clings to me, her moan vibrating against my mouth while I stroke my tongue across hers.
