Chapter 93 - I Want It All With Her

Chapter 93 - I Want It All With Her
Dante’s POV

~Six Months Later~

She never stopped writing.

Even when everything was burning, even when her hands were bloodstained from rebuilding it—Lucia still wrote with that wild, brilliant look in her eyes. The one that said the world inside her mind was louder than anything outside it.

I didn’t understand it then.

Now I did.

Lucia didn’t just survive, she transmuted our ruin into something sacred. Turned chaos into meaning. Turned me into a man worth being written about.

And today… she was the name on everyone’s lips.

Number one on the damn bestseller list. That’s what her assistant had said when she called to tell her the news. Lucia had blinked like she didn’t believe it… then cried like she did.

I should’ve been the one to take her to that TED Talk. I wanted to be. But I had something to arrange.

She left that morning in a cream dress that clung to her in all the right places, soft and flowing like something out of a Parisian daydream. Her hair was down. No jewelry. Just that quiet power she carried so well now.

She kissed me on her way out, thinking I had “meetings.”

I did.

With the jeweler. With security. With the fucking universe to make sure nothing got in my way. 

Because tonight, I was going to ask the only woman I’ve ever loved to be mine.

Forever.

“I’ll be there,” I promised, wrapping her up in one last hug before she left. “Front row, if I can make it.”

She smiled, kissed me again—slow and soft like she didn’t want to leave—and whispered, “Don’t make me look for you.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I already knew she would.

———

I got there just in time.

The auditorium was already buzzing, the stage lit in warm, golden tones that made everything feel like it belonged in another world. I slipped through the side doors, keeping to the shadows, unnoticed by the crowd as I took a spot in the back.

She hadn’t seen me yet.

Lucia stood just offstage, a clipboard pressed to her chest, her fingers drumming restlessly against it. Her eyes scanned the crowd—once, twice, three times. She was looking for someone.

I knew who.

Her shoulders lifted with a breath, then sank again. Disappointment flickered across her face like a cloud passing over sunlight. I almost stepped forward right then. Almost called her name.

But I didn’t. Not yet.

I wanted to see her.

All of her.

The confident woman who’d risen from ash and blood and made her pain into something powerful.

And when she finally stepped onto the stage, my lungs locked.

Fuck.

She looked like fire and elegance wrapped in gold. Her dress caught the light with every movement, fluid and commanding. Her hair was pulled back, but a few strands had broken free, curling around her face like they had minds of their own. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, unapologetic and sure.

The room went quiet.

And then she began.

“I didn’t write this book to tell a love story,” she said, voice steady, sure. “Not the kind that ends in roses and rainbows. I wrote it to tell the truth—about trauma, about betrayal, about choosing someone even after the damage.”

A hush fell deeper over the crowd.

She talked about broken trust. About betrayal. About nights spent wondering whether love was worth it when everything inside you screamed to run.

And then she talked about him.

Me.

Without ever saying my name.

Then came the Q&A. The moment I’d planned. The woman I’d paid stood, asked the question perfectly:

“In your book, the main character says she would marry him—after everything. If she’s you… why aren’t you married yet?”

Lucia blinked, surprised, and hesitated just enough for the room to hold its breath.

There she was. Right on cue. My heart slammed against my ribs like I hadn’t planned every damn second of this.

I stepped forward, walking slowly down the aisle. Her eyes finally landed on me, wide with shock and recognition.

Gasps erupted across the room as I crossed the stage in a tailored black suit. Her mouth parted. And when I went down on one knee in front of her, she forgot how to breathe.

I didn’t say a word at first. I just held out the ring.

Three stones. Not just diamonds—symbols. One for who we were. One for who we became. And one for the future we’d write together.

Then I looked up at her, eyes glassy, heart pounding with everything I’d never said enough. I reached for her hand, slow but certain.

“You wrote me into your pages, firefly,” I said, the words rough in my throat. “Now let me finish it—as your husband.”

Her eyes filled. Her hands shook.

I didn’t ask.

I told her.

“Marry me.”

Not a question. A promise. A command laced in devotion. The only ending that made sense for both of us.

“Yes,” she whispered, like a secret she’d been dying to tell.

And when she threw herself into my arms, the crowd erupted. Cameras flashed, people stood, but I didn’t hear any of it.

All I heard was her breath… shaky and hitched, and the way her heart slammed into mine like it had been waiting for this moment all her life.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t wait.

I kissed her.

Hard. Deep. Like a man starved and finally home. My hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, anchoring her to me. Her fingers curled into my suit like she was holding on for dear life.

And when she kissed me back just as fierce, and as desperate, I knew this wasn’t an ending.

It was the beginning.

My woman.

My future.

My fucking everything.

I stood, sliding the ring onto her finger, then pulling her into me. “You look so goddamn stunning right now I could eat you alive,” I murmured into her ear.

She gasped, blushed. Bit her lip. That was all I needed.

We barely made it out of the building before I started unraveling.

I kept my hands off her for six excruciating minutes.

Through the applause. The cameras. The elevator ride. Even the crowd waiting outside. I smiled. Nodded. Played the part.

But the second those car doors shut and it was just us?

I turned to her.

The look in her eyes was flushed and wild, like she’d been holding back too. I snapped.

We barely made it to the hotel.

Fastest check-in of my life.

By the time we got inside the room, I had her up against the door, dress hiked around her hips, mouth crushed against mine like I needed her to breathe.

Like she was mine to ruin and rebuild all over again.

Her arms slid around my neck as I unzipped her dress, my hands moving with care, like I was unwrapping something sacred. She let it fall, standing before me with nothing but trust in her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking at you.”

She touched my chest. “Then don’t.”

We moved toward the bed like gravity was pulling us there. I laid her down gently, tracing the curve of her cheek, her collarbone, her hips.

Every kiss I pressed into her skin was a vow. Every breath, a promise.

I took my time.

My hands mapped the outline of her cheekbones, followed the slope of her neck, the dip between her breasts. I kissed each inch of her like I was memorizing her with my mouth. Her sighs filled the room, soft, breathless, like prayers too sacred to say aloud.

When I finally sank into her, it wasn’t with urgency. It was with reverence.

Her legs wrapped around my waist, and she arched into me, her lips parting on a sound that was nothing short of a surrender.

I moved slow. Deep. Like every thrust was a word I hadn’t spoken, every moan she gave me a vow she didn’t need to say.

Lucia buried her hands in my hair, held me like she was afraid I’d vanish. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice shaking.

“I won’t,” I breathed against her skin. “Not ever.”

Her nails scraped down my back as I pressed deeper, her breaths stuttering, her thighs tightening. I felt her unravel beneath me completely, beautifully. And still, I didn’t rush.

I kissed her lips, her jaw, her shoulder, her pulse.

I love you,” I murmured against her skin, my voice frayed with emotion.

Her hands slid to my face, guiding my eyes to hers.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “So much it scares me.”

—————

After, we lay tangled in sheets that smelled like sweat and sex and everything we’d survived.

Lucia rolled over to face me, her fingers tracing the ring on her hand. “You really did all this?”

I looked at her, heart full and raw in a way I never thought I’d feel again. “I would burn the world to the ground for you, Lucia. But building it with you? That’s the only thing that matters to me right now.”

She smiled then. And it wasn’t her soft smile. It was the one that said she believed in me. In us.

And for the first time in my life, I knew peace.

She was the chaos that broke me and the calm that made me whole. And when she looked at me with forever in her eyes….I didn’t fear it. I welcomed it.

If there’s a heaven, it’s her voice. If there’s a home, it’s her arms. And if there’s forever… God help me, I want it all with her.