By the time my husband realized the stranger carrying me through the rain was Noah Whitaker, the most feared mafia boss in Seattle, Grant had already made the worst choice of his life. I was eight months pregnant, soaked to the skin, and doubled over on the sidewalk outside our downtown apartment while contractions tore through me every few minutes. Across the curb, Grant’s mistress sat warm and dry inside the silver Maserati he had secretly leased while telling me we could not afford to finish our daughter’s nursery. And my husband was looking at his watch.

One year later.

Christmas Eve had returned to Seattle.

The rain was falling softly over Puget Sound, but inside the master estate in Medina, it was warm, golden, and bright.

A massive fifteen-foot pine tree stood in the main living room, decorated with silver and gold ornaments, glowing softly against the dark wood paneling. A rich fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting a soothing warmth throughout the room.

Little Maya, now sixteen months old, was toddling happily across the plush rug, wearing a tiny red velvet dress, chasing a small golden retriever puppy that Noah had bought her for her birthday. Her sweet laughter filled the estate with pure, unadulterated joy.

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, looking out at the city lights reflecting off the dark waters of Lake Washington. I wore a stunning white silk evening gown that hugged my curves, a delicate diamond necklace resting against my collarbone.

A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

Noah rested his chin gently on my shoulder, his broad chest pressed firmly against my back. He smelled of sandalwood, rain, and the rich cigars he enjoyed on special occasions.

"What are you thinking about, my love?" Noah whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

I smiled, covering his hand on my waist with mine. "I was thinking about last year. About how cold that rain felt."

Noah turned me around slowly in his arms, his gray eyes looking down at me with an endless depth of love, devotion, and absolute protection.

"You will never be in the cold again, Emma," Noah promised softly. "As long as I draw breath, you and Maya will have everything."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

He didn't get down on one knee—he didn't need to. He opened the box, revealing a massive, flawless eight-carat emerald-cut diamond ring that caught the firelight in a dazzling shower of color.

"Six years ago, I made the mistake of letting another man take you," Noah said, his voice deep, gravelly, and full of emotion. "I spent four months building an empire to prove I was worthy of saving you. Now, I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never doubt who owns your heart."

Tears of pure happiness welled in my eyes, spilling over my cheeks.

"Emma Vance," Noah whispered, taking the ring out. "Will you marry me?"

I looked at the man who had pulled me from the dark pavement, who had fought my battles, destroyed my enemies, loved my daughter as his own, and given me a life beyond my wildest dreams.

"Yes," I gasped through my tears. "Yes, Noah! A thousand times yes!"

Noah slipped the ring onto my finger—a perfect fit. Then he pulled me close, lifting me off my feet, and brought his lips down onto mine in a passionate, possessive kiss that erased every lingering ghost of my past.

Behind us, little Maya let out a happy giggle, toddling over to grab the edge of Noah's trousers, babbling happily as she looked up at her parents.

Noah broke the kiss, looking down at our daughter with a rare, brilliant smile. He reached down with one hand, picking Maya up effortlessly, cradling her against his chest while holding me tightly with his other arm.

We stood together by the window, safe, warm, and unbroken, watching the rain fall gently over the city of Seattle.