Page 353 of Rosetti Family New York
The memory burns between us of that first night when she thought she was seducing me for information while I was already planning to spend my life proving she was worth any devotion.
"I have something for you," I say, reaching into my jacket for the small velvet box that's been burning against my ribs.
"Besides commandeering every screen in New York?"
"Besides that."
The ring catches morning light, throwing rainbows across the surveillance equipment. Not the largest diamond money can buy, but the most perfect, cut with mathematical precision, set in platinum that will never tarnish. Eternal, like the obsession that brought us here.
"Mara Vale," I say, dropping to one knee among the technology, "will you marry the man who sees you completely and loves what he finds?"
She stares at the ring, at me, at the city below.
"You really did it,” she says. “You actually hacked Manhattan to ask me to marry you."
"And I'll hack the world if that's what it takes to keep you." The words carry absolute truth. "Satellites, defense networks, every digital system on earth, all of it means nothing compared to you saying yes."
She reaches for me then, hands framing my face with gentle reverence. "You beautiful, dangerous, completely obsessed man. Of course I'll marry you."
The kiss tastes like fucking heaven.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, her eyes hold mischief mixed with heat that makes my pulse stutter.
"One condition," she says.
"Name it."
"Next time you want to tell me something important," she murmurs against my lips, "maybe start with flowers before moving to cyberterrorism."
My laugh rumbles against her throat. "Where's the fun in that?"
As I slide the ring onto her finger, she leans her forehead against mine.
Below us, Manhattan resumes its rhythm, unaware that they just witnessed the Ghost become human for the only woman who ever made him want to be seen.
"Mrs. Mara Rosetti," I murmur against her hair, testing how the name sounds.
"Not yet," she corrects, but her smile is pure satisfaction. "But soon."
Soon, she'll be mine in every way that matters. Soon, the woman who ran across continents will wear my name and bear my protection and understand that some hunts end with both predator and prey exactly where they belong.
Together. Forever. Claimed and claiming in return.
The ghost has found his phantom. Now we haunt together.
33
Epilogue: Matteo
Three Months Later
The reception sparkles around me, crystal chandeliers and Manhattan's elite mingling as if their wealth and political donations were the same thing. The Rosetti mansion is decked out for the occasion, every room filled with enough flowers to start a small revolution, and guests whose smiles hide secrets that could overthrow governments.
Emilio and Mara glide through the crowd like they own the place. She's in ivory silk, he's in midnight wool, both exuding the confidence of people who've survived tough times and come out stronger. She laughs at something he whispers.
My twin has found his match. The woman who once saved Carmela by murder, earning her place through violence, and somehow turned the Ghost from a solitary figure into a man who actually smiles. Marriage suits him, though it has made him twice as dangerous. There's nothing more threatening than a killer with something worth protecting.
"You're brooding," Carmela says, appearing beside me with champagne and that worried-sister look she's perfected sinceher near-death experience. Fresh from surviving assassins, she's developed an annoying habit of analyzing everyone. "This is a wedding, not a funeral."
