With a harsh groan Finn whipped one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders, pulling her tightly against him as he kissed her back with equal heat and need and desperation.
‘God, Georgie,’ he muttered when he eventually lifted his head, his breath ragged, his heart pounding against hers.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, hearing the catch in her voice and swallowing hard. ‘I had a relapse and panicked. I convinced myself that you weren’t who I thought you were. I’ve been so confused. So lost.’
‘So have I,’ he said passionately. ‘But we belong together. We belong to each other.’
‘I don’t want to live without Josh. Or you. I love you.’
He rested his forehead against hers and she could feel him shaking with emotion. ‘I think I fell in love with you the moment you walked up to me in my club and asked me if you could join me. You were dazzling.’
‘I’m not that person any longer.’
‘You’re all that and more.’
‘I still need help.’
‘We’ll get it,’ he said, stroking his thumbs over her cheeks to smooth away the tracks of her tears and the remnants of her fears. ‘I will always be there for you, Georgie, whatever happens.’
‘And I’ll always be there for you.’
He kissed her again, this time more gently, more deeply, and by the time he lifted his head, the sense of peace and hope and joy that had been beginning to spin through her filled her to the brim, overwhelming her all over again.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said, kissing away the tears. ‘It’ll be all right.’
‘Will it?’
‘Of course,’ he said gruffly. ‘I bought you these,’ he added, digging his hand briefly into his pocket and then sliding a plain gold band and then a stunning diamond solitaire onto the third finger of her left hand. ‘In Paris.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, her throat tightening and her heart swelling as she placed her hand over his heart and looked at them.
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘I’m a mess.’
‘You’re mine.’
‘Your lift is broken,’ she said with a watery sniff.
‘I had it stopped.’
‘You had it stopped?’
‘I couldn’t risk losing you again,’ he said, his eyes darkening with emotion, his hold on her strong and secure.
‘You won’t.’
‘Promise?’
She nodded. ‘I promise.’
EPILOGUE
Ospedale San Giovanni,
Venice
PROPPED UP IN bed in the dark, quiet private hospital room where his shattered body was gradually healing, Federico Rossi stared one last time at the image on the screen, a photo of a couple at the recent launch of the seven-star Hotel Bellevue in Paris—at one Finn Calvert in particular, a man who was the spitting image of himself but without the scars and the broken nose—and slowly, thoughtfully, closed the lid of his laptop.