Chapter 878

Lucian's muscular arms encircled Rosalind as they collapsed onto the silk sheets, their bodies still humming with electricity. The scent of jasmine from the open balcony mingled with their heated breaths.

"Guess we don't need protection," Lucian murmured against her damp collarbone, his lips tracing the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Genevieve giggled breathlessly. "Definitely not."

That night, they surrendered completely to passion—untamed, unapologetic. Time dissolved into tangled limbs and whispered promises until dawn painted the Santorinian sky in blush tones.

Afterward, Lucian cradled Rosalind against his chest. Beads of perspiration glistened on her flushed skin, chestnut curls clinging to her temples like delicate vines. His calloused thumb brushed a stray tendril from her forehead.

"Exhausted, little rose?"

Rosalind nuzzled into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—her personal lullaby. "Completely wrecked," she slurred, too spent to lift her eyelids.

Lucian pressed his lips to her feverish brow. "Let's extend our stay. Santorina's marble beaches await."

Years of stolen moments, yet never a proper holiday.

"Next time," she mumbled into his pectoral. "Carry me onto the plane tomorrow."

His chest vibrated with quiet laughter. "As milady commands."

Then, without warning—

"Marry me when we return."

Rosalind's lashes fluttered open. Cold platinum slid onto her ring finger—a flawless emerald-cut diamond winking in the morning light.

Her breath hitched. "When did you—"

"Months ago." Lucian captured her trembling hand. "Planned fireworks over Westfield Bay, but..." His throat worked. "I need this ring to chain you to me before you vanish again."

Tears blurred her vision. The Frostbloom's ownership contract burned in Genevieve's safe. That poisonous truth—"Whoever loves deeper loses"—echoed between them.

Yet when Lucian's stormy eyes pleaded, Rosalind heard herself whisper, "Yes."

A growl tore from his chest as he crushed her against him. "We'll file paperwork the minute we land."

She clung to his shoulders, memorizing the ridge of each muscle. Just for tonight, she'd pretend destiny wasn't a ticking clock.