CHAPTER 57
The Icelandic night was unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Dominic and I sat on a thick wool blanket near a secluded geothermal pool he’d found earlier in the day. The steam rose in delicate tendrils, curling into the night air. The heat from the water contrasted sharply with the chill in the breeze, a strange but comforting balance.
We hadn’t spoken much in the last hour.
Dominic had built a small fire nearby, its crackle and pop the only sound between us. I leaned back on my hands, staring up at the sky. It seemed close enough to touch, as if I could pluck a star from the heavens and keep it in my palm forever.
“This place feels unreal,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb the stillness.
Dominic’s voice came from just beside me, warm and deep. “It does. Almost like the rest of the world doesn’t exist here.”
“You’ve been quiet tonight,” I noted.
He gave a faint smile. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“You,” he said simply, his gaze holding mine.
My heart stuttered, caught off guard by the intensity in his voice.
Before I could respond, he shifted so he was facing me fully. There was a tension in his posture, a kind of contained energy I hadn’t felt from him before. My breath caught, a strange mix of anticipation and confusion swirling in my chest.
“Ethan,” he began, his voice steady but softer than usual. “These past months have been… complicated. Painful, at times. There were moments I thought I might lose you, and I don’t think I’ll ever fully recover from that fear.”
My throat tightened. “Dominic…”
He reached out and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His grip was firm, grounding me even as my emotions threatened to spiral.
“I’ve spent most of my life building walls,” he continued. “Walls made of money, power, control. I thought they would keep me safe. I thought they would protect the people I love.” His jaw tightened briefly. “But when you were taken, those walls didn’t matter. They didn’t stop the hurt. They didn’t bring you back.”
My chest ached at the pain in his words. I squeezed his hand, silently urging him to go on.
“You were the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose,” he said, his voice rough now. “And when I got you back, I realized something I should have known all along. I don’t care about the company. I don’t care about power or wealth or what the world thinks of me.” His eyes glistened in the firelight. “All I care about is you.”
The night seemed to hold still around us. My breath came faster, my heart pounding so loudly I wondered if he could hear it.
“Dominic,” I whispered, unsure where this was going but already overwhelmed.
He reached into the pocket of his coat. When his hand emerged, he was holding a small, velvet box. My lungs seized, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
“This isn’t planned,” he said quickly, almost nervously. “I didn’t want something extravagant or public. It’s just us, here, under these stars, the way it should be.”
He opened the box. Inside was a simple ring, elegant and understated, a band of platinum with a subtle shine. My vision blurred instantly.
“Ethan James,” Dominic said, his voice breaking slightly on my name. “Will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, the world went utterly silent. The only sounds were the gentle hiss of steam rising from the pool and the crackle of the fire beside us.
Tears filled my eyes so fast they spilled over before I could stop them.
“Yes,” I choked out, my voice trembling. “God, yes, Dominic.”
“You’re sure?” he asked, even though my answer was written all over my tear-streaked face.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” I said, my voice breaking on the words. “This…you…. it’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger with hands that weren’t as steady as they usually were. The cool metal slid into place perfectly, as if it had been waiting for me all along.
When I looked down at it, more tears fell. Not because of the ring itself, but because of what it represented. A future. A promise. A life beyond the pain and the shadows of the past.
Dominic pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I felt like he was trying to fuse us together.
“I love you,” he murmured into my hair, the words rough and unpolished. “I love you so damn much, Ethan.”
I clung to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his coat. “I love you too,” I whispered, my voice muffled against his chest. “More than I can ever explain.”
For a long while, we just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other while the fire burned low and the stars wheeled silently overhead. The cold night air didn’t touch me. The past didn’t touch me. There was only Dominic, warm and solid and mine.
Eventually, he leaned back just enough to look at me. His thumb brushed away the last of my tears.
“You make me better,” he said quietly. “You make me want to be better. I want to give you a life filled with peace and love and safety, Ethan. I can’t promise there won’t be challenges, but I can promise that I’ll face every single one of them with you.”
Emotion swelled so sharply in my chest that it almost hurt. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Just you, beside me.”
He kissed me then, slow and tender, a kiss that felt like a vow. I melted into it, tasting salt and smoke and the faint sweetness of the wine we’d shared earlier. When we finally pulled apart, I pressed my forehead against his and closed my eyes.
Under that vast Icelandic sky, surrounded by stars and silence, I felt something settle inside me. A quiet certainty.
This was my life now. Not the darkness of before, not the fear that had haunted me for so long. This. Dominic. Us.
“I can’t believe this is real,” I said softly.
He gave a low laugh, brushing his lips over my temple. “It’s real. You and me, Ethan. Always.”
“Always,” I echoed, the word trembling on my tongue