“Then you’re gonna have to figure out a damn good way to do it.”
“Rock stars overdose all the time. It won’t raise suspicions.” I looked at the desk and loosed a frustrated sigh. “Get me a damn mouse.”
“What was that? You say do something and I say fuck off?” He grabbed his gun and stood. When he reached the door, he called over his shoulder, “You have an assistant for a reason.”
Libby
I ROLLED OVER AS I stretched . . . and kept rolling. There was no warm body to stop me. No strong, tattooed arms wrapped around me. My mouth pulled into a frown when I twisted my neck and found no trace of Maxon in the room.
Fear instantly unfurled in my stomach and spread through my body, threatening to choke me.
My gaze locked on the corner of my room where there should’ve been a guitar case propped up, and I made myself breathe. If the guitar was gone, Maxon was somewhere making beautiful music.
He was safe.
I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow and released a shuddering breath. Then another and another until my body relaxed.
At least if I’m waking without him, I can be happy I’m waking alone—without Einstein and her freezing toes.
Bright side.
Sometimes you have to focus on it.
In a life of fear and corruption and murder, I’d learned early on to do exactly that.
I’d found my bright side and clung hard to it. To him—Maxon.
When Henley first left Wake Forest, it nearly broke me.
I hadn’t just lost the boy I loved, I lost the boy who grounded and freed me. Who calmed and exhilarated me. Who made me forget the darkness in my world.
But I couldn’t let myself break. I couldn’t let his absence destroy me.
So I found the silver lining in simple things. Mundane things.
Getting the best coffee of my life after fighting with my mom.
Finding the perfect shoes and shade of red lipstick the morning after Maxon butt-dialed me at the beginning of a hookup.
Finding a twenty in my jeans right before I got the call that Maxon went to jail with Lincoln.
A month passing in between anyone in the family killing someone.
Mundane things . . .
But they were all Band-Aids compared to Maxon.
When he first came home, I worried every day I was dreaming. That I would wake and my bright side would be gone.
Now with the pictures and unknown sender, I was terrified I’d wake to find he’d been taken from me . . .
I knew exactly how brutal the mafia could be when they wanted to send a message.
We’d all learned when Dare’s ex had been ripped from their bed and killed in front of him.
Icy fingers trailed up my spine, sending chills across my body as I climbed from the bed and left my room.
My fears melted away and my lips stretched into a smile when I heard the gentle strums of Maxon’s acoustic and his low, gravelly voice coming from the living room.
His eyes locked on me when I rounded the corner into the room, intense and full of some unknown emotion as he watched me lean against the wall.
I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to hide my smile when the song he was singing teased my ears, taking me back to the day he wrote it.
I woke, already giggling and tensing.
“Stop,” Maxon said quietly. “Don’t move.”
“That tickles.”
“Libby.”
I blinked against the harsh sun coming through the hotel window until I could look at his too-handsome face, scrunched in concentration.
His lips were moving, but nothing was coming out. His caramel-colored eyes were searching my naked body, but there wasn’t a hint of the carnal need or passion that had been filling them since he’d come home last night.
They were light, open, excited.
And then he moved his hand over my stomach, and I flinched again.
“Oh my God,” I said on a breath of a laugh. “Oh my God, I can’t.”
The corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes darting up to mine twice before he leaned forward to give me a quick kiss. When he sat back and hunched over my stomach again, he explained, “The only paper in this damn room is a Bible.”
I glanced over my arms and chest, then down to my stomach. Every part I could see was covered in Maxon’s handwriting. Some places were scratched out, some had arrows leading to other parts.
“And you couldn’t use your phone?” I asked teasingly.
He gave me a heated look that made my stomach clench with need and my breaths deepen. “Phones stay off when we’re together, Rebel. Even for this.”
Maxon whispered the new lyrics when he slid into me minutes later, claiming me again and again with his words and his body and his heart.
The song was about trying to hold on to a girl as wild as they come and knowing the only way to keep her was to free her.
As if I wasn’t already his.
As if I hadn’t always been his.
“What happens after you free her?” I asked when we finished, our bodies still joined. “What if she doesn’t come back?”
Maxon smiled, like he knew a secret I didn’t. “Wait for the next album. I’ll answer you then.”
I waited. I listened to every song—like always—then called and told him he was wrong with a smile in my voice. The next time he came to town, he whispered the words of my answer against my neck as he slowly undressed and teased me until I was writhing between him and a wall.
A song telling a girl to go and pretend she’s having fun, and he would do the same.
Saying it wouldn’t change that she was his and he was hers.
Claiming he already knew how their story would go—with a house and kids and his ring on her finger.
Promising he would wait until the day her rebel heart found her way home to him.
“That one’s always been my favorite,” I said, my voice soft as a breath after I blinked away the past.
“I know,” he murmured.
I nodded down the hall. “You know . . . it would be really nice waking up next to you.”
His fingers never stopped plucking the strings as he shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”
My eyebrows lifted. “So, let’s not sleep.”
That possessive, predatory look flashed through his eyes. Carnal hunger so unrestrained, my body heated and begged to be filled with him in response.
I pushed away from the wall and lifted my hand, mouthing, “Three minutes.”
He just smiled and shifted back on the couch, his voice easily joining his hands in the middle of the song as I headed toward the bathroom.
I had just finished brushing my teeth and was cupping water in my hands to splash on my face when the fingers of my right hand hit something on my left, and I stilled.
I looked at my palms, not able to comprehend the band wrapped around the ring finger of my left hand. Slowly, as if I didn’t trust my sight or touch, I turned my hands over.
“What . . .”
A diamond on my finger.
There was a goddamn diamond on my finger.
No, no, no . . .
I wanted to search my apartment.
I wanted to scream for Maxon to run.
But I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t speak.
That fear from earlier was real.
It was paralyzing me.
The Polaroid pictures could’ve been anyone. Anyone.
But I knew who’d put this on my finger. What this was.
And I needed to get Maxon far away from them.
From me.
I didn’t realize I was crying until warm, calloused hands slid down my arms and folded over my hands.
“Every lyric I write, I write for you,” he whispered.
My chest hitched and my body swayed. Every racing thought halted so suddenly it felt like I ran into a wall.
Then realizations trickled in, slow and perfectly clear.
Maxon was singing my favorite song, and there was a massive diamond on my finger.
Oh my God.
Relief and surprise and excitement rushed through me, overwhelming me until I was trembling and my tears were flowing faster.
A quiet sob tumbled from my lips when he pressed his mouth to the back of my neck.
He wove his fingers through mine as he wrapped his arms loosely around me. “I thought of how to do this. I thought of taking you to our field, having something elaborate set up and getting down on one knee.” His chest shook with a laugh when my nose scrunched.
I glanced up through my tears to see him watching me in the mirror.
“But that’s not you,” he continued. “I thought of singing that song on the stage at The Jack and then asking you . . . almost did, actually.” He dipped his head to trail his lips along my ear, eyes locked with mine the entire time. “And then I stopped thinking of the romantic gestures and thought of you instead.”
“You think this isn’t romantic?” I asked, my throat tight.
His mouth twitched into a smile. “You crave your freedom and you need to run wild. You command everyone’s attention when you walk into a room and feed off excited energy. But when it comes to us, you don’t want the rest of the world there. You want to hide away so you can finally shed that mask you wear around everyone else . . . and just be.”
That he understood that at all—that he knew me so perfectly and could flow with both sides of me so easily—was one of the things I loved most about him.
I wasn’t easy to handle. I knew that. I’d told him that long before I ever gave him my heart or body.
I needed to be around people and needed time with my family.
But what I needed more than anything was time alone with Maxon where everything else disappeared. And he had always been happy to give me both. Sometimes even knowing when I needed one or the other before I did.
“When I think of us . . . I think of loving you to the point of exhaustion,” he continued, turning me in his arms and pressing me closer to his body. “I think of lazy hours in bed and watching you walk around in nothing but my shirt. I think of writing lyrics with you next to me and singing them to you before anyone else hears them. I think of repeating the cycle again and again. So here we are. The world gone. Just us as we’ve always been.”
Tears filled my eyes again, but I managed to keep them from falling.
“Marry me, Libby.”
My mouth was on his, swallowing the taste of my name on his tongue. “Yes,” I whispered through our kiss . . . through the tightening of my throat . . . through my overwhelming joy.
This was real. This was finally happening after years of running.
After years of wanting it.
And it was more perfect than I could’ve ever imagined.
The kiss was rough and hard, but somehow still held a hint of a tease that matched his smile I could feel against my lips. And then he was grabbing my thighs and lifting me onto the vanity.
Weaving my fingers through his hair, I forced him back to look into his eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, I want your last name. Yes, I want the future you promised me years ago.” I moaned when he slammed his mouth back onto mine, whimpering and begging when he spread my legs and pulled me to the edge of the counter.
Seconds later, he was pressing into me, filling and stretching me.
It wasn’t sweet or slow. It didn’t have me on the verge of tears again.
It was rough and fast. It was desperate and excited. It was the overwhelming amazement and bliss that this moment was here and needing to know it was real.
We wouldn’t last long. Couldn’t.
We’d been heading toward this moment for years. There was no way to take our time.
And that was perfect too. It was us. All passion and love and unrestrained need.
Maxon pressed his forehead to mine when I began tightening and vibrating around him, my body strung so tight that I wasn’t sure I could take a breath without shattering.
“Come on, Rebel.”
He drove into me relentlessly, jaw clenched and muscles straining until I came crashing down around him.
He kissed me hard.
Fierce.
Swallowing my moans and raking his teeth over my bottom lip as he continued to thrust deeper and deeper, prolonging my orgasm until I was trembling.
A growl built low in his chest when he found his release inside me, his body tensed and shuddering as he held me close. His lips brushed mine over and over again. “I love you.”
I nodded weakly. “I—”
“There’s really only so long you can expect me to—huh.” Einstein’s voice sounded in the bedroom so suddenly, Maxon and I didn’t have time to start scrambling before she added, “Nice ass, Maxon.”
“Einstein.”
Maxon slammed the bathroom door, his face set in a mask of frustration.
“Well, it’s true,” she yelled. “Let’s eat, I’m hungry.”
I gave Maxon a look, but he was now barely holding it together. His mouth mashed tight and eyes shut as his chest shook.
“Does she know?” I whispered. When he nodded, I raised my voice so she would hear me. “Now’s not the best time.”
“I’m gonna assume you didn’t say no since I just walked in to see that. Get dressed and come out here so we can celebrate. And clean that damn sink.”
Maxon laughed, but I was staring at the door with a dumbfounded expression. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Maxon nipped at my neck teasingly, then placed a kiss there. “We need to move. Soon.” Humor coated his words as he helped me off the vanity.
“I think she’ll move with us and not tell us. We’d come home and she’d be moved in.”
“Jesus,” he said on a soft laugh. “I know she doesn’t have boundaries, but I don’t remember her like this.”
I wasn’t going to get into Einstein’s life with Maxon—not right now.
She was hurting and needed help. She’d been shutting people out but clinging to me harder than ever. And at this rate, she might be standing right next to me at that altar, expecting him to marry her too.
Maxon was right . . . Einstein didn’t have boundaries, but this was different. This wasn’t her.
“That’s because she never was.” I stared at the door for a moment, then looked at Maxon and gave him a quick kiss. “I love you,” I whispered, finishing what I’d been saying when Einstein walked in.
His stare danced over my face, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “I’ve always loved you.”
Maxon
AFTER WE SHOWERED AND DRESSED, we joined Einstein in the living room.
“You’re officially engaged. And it seems so different than what you were before. Yay. Let’s celebrate,” she said dully from where she sat on the couch.
She’d brought coffee and a ton of food . . . and didn’t touch any of it. Just sat there silently staring out the window while we ate.
It was awkward.
It wasn’t until Libby and I started talking about when we wanted to get married that Einstein seemed to remember she was in the room with us.
“It’ll have to be kept quiet. Anyone who might say something can’t know about it. That way, paparazzi can’t catch wind and try to get pictures.”
“We’re the masters of keeping quiet,” Einstein murmured as she grabbed her phone and began rapidly tapping on it.
Libby sighed, but agreed. “We can keep it quiet. We wouldn’t even have to go to a courthouse.”
My brow furrowed in confusion, then smoothed when I realized what she was saying. I shot her a look. “A legal marriage would be great, Libby. And what do you mean courthouse? Don’t you want an actual wedding?”
Einstein laughed. She glanced up a few seconds later and waved us on with her phone. “Continue. Please. I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”
“Just becaus
e illegal things happened within my world doesn’t mean there weren’t ways to do things legally.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s common for people in mobs to marry in secret. Don’t get me wrong . . . some do huge, extravagant weddings. But others don’t want enemies knowing details of their lives. It can be dangerous to have a wedding, because it’s like inviting an enemy to attack.”
She was talking about enemies attacking and secret weddings the way she talked about a night at work. It was still surreal. “Are you sure I’m going to get used to this?”
Her lips twitched into a smile. “Yes.”
I nodded absentmindedly, my gaze traveling to Einstein when I felt her stare on me.
Her thumbs were hovering over the screen of her phone, but her light eyes were boring into me—one eyebrow lifted like she was waiting to see what I was going to do.
“There are ways to keep actual weddings a secret, Libby,” I finally said, and looked back to her. “Real weddings, not hidden mob weddings. You can’t tell me you don’t want that.”
“I don’t want that,” she said immediately, lifting her shoulder in a hint of a shrug. “Dare and Lily got married this way. She was the princess of the Irish-American mob, and he was our boss. Even though they’re both out, it’s hard to ever really be out. Just because you’ve decided you’re done doesn’t mean other people understand that or care. With their names, they need to keep their lives quiet still.”
“She isn’t just a Borello by oath, she’s a Borello by blood. People know our family. Our name. I dissolved the gang, but enemies don’t care. When you put her in the spotlight, you put a blinding target on her back.”
I swallowed thickly as Dare’s words rang through my mind. “Right. Right, yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”
“What is it?” When I glanced at Libby, she said, “You suddenly look like something’s wrong. Tell me.”
I blew out a slow breath and rubbed my forehead. “Nothing. Just something your brother said.”
She leaned against the couch and lifted her eyebrows, letting me know she wasn’t going to drop it.
“Might as well spill,” Einstein mumbled without ever looking up from her phone.
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