Chapter 8 - The Terrace Under the Stars
At exactly eight o'clock, wrapped in a thick wool coat and a cream-colored cashmere scarf Rafe had gifted her days earlier, Mave pushed open the glass door leading to the second-floor terrace.
The cold winter air hit her face instantly, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of pine and ocean salt from the nearby bay.
The entire terrace had been transformed.
String lights woven through the wrought-iron railing cast a soft, golden glow across the snow-dusted stone floor. In the center of the terrace stood a small table set for two, complete with flickering candles protected from the wind by glass chimneys, a silver wine bucket, and two crystal flutes.
And standing beside the table, waiting for her, was Rafe.
He wasn't wearing his overcoat anymore; just a crisp black suit that fit his tall, athletic frame with devastating precision.
Mave stopped near the doorway, her breath catching in her throat as white vapor plumed in the cold air. "Rafe... what is all this?"
"When we first met," Rafe said, walking toward her slowly across the snow, his hands resting in his trouser pockets, "you were standing in a crowded restaurant, exhausted, terrified, and invisible to everyone around you. You worked yourself to the bone for a life that offered you nothing in return."
He stopped right in front of her, the warmth of his body cutting through the winter chill.
"And then, when a monster tried to hurt my family, you stepped into the dark and took the blow," Rafe continued, his voice dropping into that deep, resonant timbre that made her heart race. "You didn't know who I was. You didn't know my name, my money, or my power. You just knew an innocent person was in danger."
Mave looked up into his winter-sky eyes, seeing a vulnerability there that no rival boss or federal prosecutor had ever coaxed out of him.
"I spent my entire life believing that love and loyalty were weaknesses," Rafe whispered, reaching up to gently cup her cheek with his warm, calloused hand. "Something enemies could exploit. Something you had to crush before it crushed you."
He paused, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheekbone.
"Then you walked into my life, Mave Donovan. And you proved to me that the strongest thing on earth isn't a gun, an empire, or a bank account. It's a mother's heart."
Mave’s eyes swam with tears, but this time they were tears of pure, unadulterated joy. "Rafe..."
"I'm not a good man, Mave," Rafe said, his voice raw with absolute honesty. "My hands are stained with things you shouldn't even know exist. But for the rest of my life, I will use every ounce of power I possess to make sure you and Finn never have to be afraid of tomorrow again."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, snapping the lid open.
Inside sat a ring — simple, elegant, diamond and platinum, catching the golden glow of the string lights like a fallen star.
"Stay with me," Rafe said quietly. "Be my family. Let me carry the weight for both of you."
May you like
Mave looked from the ring up into his eyes, seeing a future she had never dared to dream of during all those endless, bleeding nights on her feet.
"Yes," she whispered, her voice steady and clear against the winter wind. "Yes, Rafe. I'll stay."
