Part 16:

Her hand squeezed Alisandro’s. I’m safe with Aleandro and I want to be with him. Richard swallowed hard pain flickering across his face before he controlled it. What do I need to do to stop you? Seline pulled away from Alessandro and crossed to her father, wrapping her arms around him with the same desperate affection she’d had as a little girl.

Just trust me, Dad. Let me make my own mistakes if that’s what this is. When she stepped back, she reached for Aleandro’s hand again, lacing their fingers together with deliberate certainty. Richard looked at their joined hands, then up at his daughter’s face, and something in his expression cracked. “Are you leaving with him right now?” Selene smiled, turning to look at Allesandre with something soft and real in her eyes that made his breath catch.

“No, Dad. First, he has to propose to me properly. Then he has to ask you for my hand, and then we need to have an actual wedding.” Her smile widened. “After all that, then I’ll leave with him.” Alisandro stared at her, and something lit up behind his eyes. Surprise mixed with hope, mixed with the kind of happiness he’d forgotten he could feel.

He nodded once, slow and deliberate. “Then be ready at 8 tonight. I’m taking you to dinner.” Richard made a sound somewhere between frustration and resignation. But when Seline looked back at him, she saw the smallest hint of acceptance beginning to break through the anger. 8:00, Allesandre repeated, his eyes never leaving Seline’s face.

And wear something beautiful because I’m going to do this right. The restaurant sat on Monaco’s cliffside with floor to-seeiling windows overlooking the Mediterranean at sunset, and Aleandro couldn’t take his eyes off Seline. She wore champagne silk with a deep slit that caught the light every time she moved, her dark hair swept up to show her neck, and when she crossed her legs with easy confidence and lifted her champagne glass, Aleandro forgot what he’d been about to say.

“Aleandro?” Selene’s eyes sparkled with sudden curiosity. I just thought of something. Who was sending me those threatening messages? A small smile tugged at Alessandro’s mouth as he set down his own glass. The number was from a burner phone. Seline, but when we traced it properly, it came from inside the diplomatic residence.

Her eyes went wide. My father sent them. Aleandro shrugged, the gesture casual. Or someone on his security team. Makes sense. they’d want to keep you away from me. I can’t believe Selene started, but Aleandro reached across the table and caught her hand. Let’s leave all that behind us, he said quietly, his thumb brushing across her knuckles.

We’re starting something new now, a real life together. And making you happy is going to be the most important thing I do, Seline. He stood, and before she could ask what he was doing, Alisandro dropped to one knee beside the table. The restaurant went quiet around them, other diners noticing whispers starting, but Aleandro only saw Seline’s face as he pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket.

“Will you marry me?” His voice came steady despite the way his heart was hammering. “For real this time? Not because we have to, but because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Selene’s smile broke across her face like sunrise, and she leaned down to kiss him before he could open the box. “Yes.” Aleandro stood and pulled her into his arms.

And when he spoke again, his voice dropped low enough that only she could hear. “We’ll do this however you want. Whatever pace you need, whatever you’re comfortable with, just tell me what you want from me.” Selene rose on her toes, her mouth close to his ear, and whispered something that made Aleandro pull back to look at her with surprise mixing with heat in his eyes.

“There’s nothing more attractive than a woman who knows what she wants,” he said, his voice rough with desire and admiration tangled together. “He took her hand, and they left the restaurant without waiting for the check. and the drive back to his villa passed in charged silence, hands clasped, eyes meeting, anticipation building with every passing second.

When they reached the entrance, Alessandro lifted Seline into his arms and carried her up the stairs, and she laughed against his neck at the old-fashioned gesture that somehow felt exactly right. He sat her down in his bedroom, the lights of Monaco spreading below them through the windows, and when he reached for the buttons of his shirt, Selene watched him with eyes that held desire and trust in equal measure.

“You are mine now, Seline,” Aleandro said quietly as he moved toward her, his hands finding her waist, his forehead resting against hers. “If you’ll have me.” “I already said yes,” she whispered back and pulled him down to her. “Paris in autumn looked like a postcard. Golden leaves drifting down the marray streets, the kind of crisp air that made everything feel possible.

Seline stood in the doorway of Gallery Moretti, watching afternoon light paint her collection. And for the first time in her life, everything felt normal. No threats, no kidnappings, no councils deciding her fate, just her gallery, her art, and the life she’d chosen. Alessandro had stepped back from the family business entirely, and they’d built something beautifully ordinary in Paris, an apartment in the fourth Arondismo, Sunday mornings at the bakery, dinners with friends who had no idea about Aleandro’s past. The gallery

had been featured in Vogue Paris last month, Selen’s curation making waves in the art world on her own merit. Critics were calling her eye for emerging artists exceptional, and she’d done it herself. That mattered more than anything. It was perfect. Well, mostly perfect. Senora Moreti. Marco stood in front of a Rothkco with a notebook, scribbling furiously.

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