Ruthless Creatures (Queens & Monsters, #1)(106)

I’m about to close the drawer when I pause and take another look at the envelope.

After David’s safety deposit box letter, every blank envelope looks suspicious. I’ll never be able to walk into an office supply store again without being traumatized.

Without taking the envelope out of the drawer, I gingerly lift the top flap and look at what’s inside.

It’s a glossy color brochure from the Mayo Clinic about vasectomy reversal.

Great minds think alike.

I set both hands flat on top of the desk, lean over and brace myself against it, and breathe deeply. After a moment, I start to softly laugh.

“What’s so funny, baby?”

Coming from behind me, Kage’s voice is warm, full of suppressed laughter. He runs his hand up my spine to my neck, which he starts to massage.

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering how many conversations exactly like this one are in my future.”

“You mean conversations where you owe me an apology for being so headstrong?”

“Headstrong? You’ve been reading your Regency romance novels again.”

He pulls me upright and gathers me into his arms, smiling down at my flushed, happy face. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean into him.

He teases, “I have. It’s where I got the idea of putting your ring into the pocket of my sweats. Those romance novel heroes always have such creative ideas.”

“I wouldn’t know. I only read non-fiction.”

“Ah. Well, maybe I should tell you to look into my pocket again.”

“Um, honey, I don’t think it would be the greatest idea to get busy right now, with all the guys outside and whatnot.”

He shakes his head, chuckling, then kisses me. “I don’t want you to grab my dick, love.”

“Since when?”

“Just put your hand into my pocket.”

I look at his beautifully fitted suit and frown.

He says softly, “Coat. Left side.”

My heart starting to flutter, I slide my hand into his coat pocket, searching until my fingers close around something small, round, and metal.

Unlike the last round metal object I retrieved from a pocket of his, this one has a substantial square chunk of something smooth and cool on one side.

His voice rough, Kage says, “If ten carats aren’t enough, I’ll return it for a bigger one.”

I close my eyes and drop my head to his chest, curling my hand around the ring.

My heart in my throat and my soul flying, I whisper, “Ten carats? So tiny. God, you’re a cheapskate, gangster.”

He hugs me, hard, kissing the top of my head, my earlobe, my neck. Into my ear he says softly, “Marry me.”

Of course it had to be a command, not a question.

My voice cracks when I answer. “Let me get a look at this tiny ring first. I’ll let you know in a minute.”

“It’s a flawless cushion-cut diamond on a platinum band. Harry Winston.”

I press my cheek against his chest, listening to the comforting sound of his pounding heart. “Ugh. Sounds hideous.”

“Is that a yes or a no?” When I don’t answer, he prompts impatiently, “Use your colors, stubborn girl.”

A tear slipping down my cheek, I whisper, “Green, honey. All the green in the universe.”





Epilogue





Sloane





When I disembark at the private jet terminal at La Guardia, it’s dark, forty degrees outside, and drizzling. It might as well be eighty degrees and sunny for how happy I am.

I stand at the top of the airstairs of Kage’s swanky jet and throw my arms wide, shouting, “Hellooo, Big Apple!”

The uniformed chauffer waiting with an umbrella at the bottom of the steps on the tarmac squints up at me like I’m nuts, but I ignore him. I’ve never been to New York, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

Maybe I’ll get lucky and bump into a random billionaire I can get to work on.

If not, there’s always shopping. The Louis Vuitton boutique on Fifth Avenue has been calling my name all the way from Tahoe.

“C’mon, doggo. Time to go see mommy.”

Mojo lifts his head from where he’s been sleeping the entire flight, on the first cream-colored leather seat in the cabin near the door. He glances at the door, looking dubious, then back at me.

I smile at him. “Move your butt or I’ll make a rug out of you, shaggy.”

Moving at the speed of a slug, he pours himself off the seat and onto the floor, yawns, scratches his ear with a hind paw, then blinks at me.

Shaking my head, I snort. “There’s no way you attacked anyone. It would take way too much energy.”

He yawns again, proving my point.

I head down the narrow metal airstairs, the dog following me. When I get to the bottom, the driver says solemnly, “Welcome to New York, miss. I’m Sergey, your driver.”

Sergey is young, green-eyed, and big enough to lift the car over his head if he wanted to.

Major big-dick energy. I like him already.

“Thank you, Sergey! I’m so happy to be here.”

“I’ll handle your luggage. Please, follow me.”

He gestures toward the sleek black Bentley parked on the tarmac a few yards away. I let him cover my head with the umbrella and follow him over to the car, feeling a slight twinge of guilt that there’s only one of him to handle my luggage, because I didn’t pack light.