He shook his head. “He can’t do anything, and I didn’t want to give you false hope.”

  “Gabriel,” I protested. “This isn’t false hope. This is real hope. Progress.”

  He nodded. “Yes, progress.”

  I lifted on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly.

  “I’m so happy,” I whispered, burying my face in his neck. “You’re the most wonderful man and deserve all the best. I love you so much.”

  “You’re forgetting I have the best. I have you,” he rasped. “I love you too.”

  My lips found his and I kissed him deeply, pouring all my emotions into it.

  “I’m so happy,” I murmured against his lips. “I don’t deserve this or you, but I’m going to keep you anyhow.”

  He chuckled. “You better, preciosa, otherwise I might have to resort to some questionable methods to keep you by my side.”

  “No need. I’m yours forever.”

  He brushed his nose against mine. “I like the sound of that.”

  We resumed walking, our hearts lighter as we wandered slowly, surrounded by narrow alleyways and ochre-colored townhouses with ivy clinging to the walls. Window boxes overflowed with late-blooming flowers, and the scent of cinnamon from a nearby bakery clung to the air like an invitation.

  Every few steps, we would pause. I’d take in the view and describe it all to Gabriel as he clung to my every word.

  We crossed bridge after bridge, arching gracefully over the waterways that laced through the city like silver veins. I told him Stockholm was often called the “Venice of the North,” and he tilted his head, smiling as he pictured it.

  I described everything I saw as vividly and poetically as I could. I explained to him the way the water shimmered beneath the bridges, catching the reflections of spires and sailboats and seagulls mid-flight or how buildings leaned into one another like old friends, their windows glowing amber with evening light.

  He listened with that quiet, focused intensity he always carried and like my words were building a world he could walk through, even if he couldn’t see it.

  At one point, we stood along the edge of the waterfront, wind tugging at my hair and the hem of his coat. He reached out, fingertips brushing the wrought-iron railing as I leaned against his side and whispered about the boat with white sails and a wooden hull drifting along the harbor.

  “You make it sound like a dream,” he murmured.

  “Maybe it is,” I said. “But it’s a beautiful one.”

  He squeezed my hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’m glad I’m in it.”

  We didn’t find answers in Sweden, but we found hope, and most importantly, we had our love.

  And I vowed to myself, when—that’s right, when—his vision returned, we’d be back.

  The Miami skyline stretched endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glittering mosaic of high-rises and streetlamps that pulsed like a living heartbeat.

  “So this is where you live most of the time?” I asked Gabriel, studying the penthouse with the sleek minimalist design, its black and brushed gold accents, smooth white walls, and soft finishings giving off the effect of an oasis from the concrete jungle.

  “Yes.”

  “The view is—” I stopped mid-sentence, the words catching in my throat as my chest tightened unexpectedly.

  “Yes,” Gabriel said softly, as if he could feel the hesitation ripple through me. “It’s breathtaking.”

  I fought the instinct to move toward him—fought the ache in my heart that always twisted when I remembered he couldn’t see the skyline the way I did. Instead, I stayed rooted in place, watching as he navigated the open room with quiet confidence, his cane tapping gently across the polished floor.

  When his arms wrapped around my waist, I melted into him, resting my hands on his strong chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek was the only sound I needed.

  “You don’t have to watch what you say around me, preciosa,” he murmured into my hair. “Don’t censor the world on my account.”

  I let out a long breath, something between a sigh and an apology, and leaned further into him. His arms tightened around me, grounding me as we stood side by side in front of the vast expanse of glass.

  The city pulsed below us, alive and glittering, while inside the penthouse, it was just us. Still. Quiet. A moment suspended in glass and fading sunlight.

  He stared straight ahead, eyes blank but posture relaxed. He didn’t need the view to feel it—the heat of the setting sun on his skin.

  And I, selfishly, studied every inch of the horizon for both of us, though I didn’t describe it this time.

  For once, I let the silence speak.

  Because in that moment, it wasn’t about what he could or couldn’t see.

  It was about the way he held me like I was the only view that mattered.

  My gaze pulled back to Gabriel who stood still.

  “Are you watching me again?” His voice broke the silence, deep and slightly amused.

  “No,” I lied, too quickly.

  He smiled—that smug, infuriatingly charming smile. “You breathe differently when you lie.”

  “Now you’re lying,” I said, trying not to smile. “Are we turning into an old married couple with secrets already?”

  “Possibly. Now you’ll overthink every breath for the next hour. Victory is mine.” He chuckled, his grin widening.

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I’m trying,” he said, turning his face toward me.

  “To be blind or annoying?”

  “Multitasking is a strength of mine.”

  I laughed—soft, involuntary. “You’re really okay, though?”

  “As okay as I can be,” he said, reaching out with practiced ease and finding my hand. His fingers laced through mine like he’d memorized the shape of me. “I don’t need sight to know you’re worrying too much.”

  “I’m not.” He arched an eyebrow and I sighed. “Okay, I am.”

  “About?”

  I shrugged, but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Well, I don’t know what to do.”

  “About?”

  “The wedding,” I admitted. “My family is blasting my phone, and I heard your brother call you earlier and bring it up too.”

  It was his turn to sigh.

  “Yeah, he was wondering when we’d set a date.” I tensed, and he quickly added, “I don’t want to rush you.” My brows knitted, and then I released a strangled laugh. “Seriously, Amara, I don’t⁠—”

  “I was trying not to rush you,” I cut in.

  It was his turn to laugh. “Why do you think I would want to delay?”

  I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted some time to see if your vision would come back. I felt bad rushing you when you’re dealing with so much, and I feel like I’m doing a horrible job of helping you.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s all?”

  “Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “If we could get married tonight, I’d be good with that.”

  His shoulders visibly relaxed and his mouth curved into a beautiful smile.

  “Then let’s do it,” he drawled. “Although, let’s give our families and friends at least a week to get their asses to Miami.”

  I grinned and pressed my mouth to his. “You got it, Santos. One seriously badass wedding coming right up.”

  Amara

  We were getting married in three days.

  The preparations were in full swing with florists, tailors, security teams, and our parents’ iron-fisted scheduling.

  Meanwhile, Kian was neck-deep in chaos of his own.

  Apparently, he’d become a prime target of the Triad.

  Earlier this year, he’d quietly slipped Enzo Marchetti confirmation of Nicki Popova and her psychopathic husband’s involvement in a sprawling organ trafficking ring. It was the kind of truth that didn’t just expose monsters, it disrupted empires.

  Now, the new head of the Triad was eager to make an example of him. Not with bullets, but with something even more insidious: sabotage. His goal was to stir tension between Kian and the alliances he’d spent years carefully building. And if Anya had been killed in Albania, it would have caused major conflict between the Santos and Cortes families.

  And while he played political chess with a knife at his back, and Jet was MIA with Anya, I was supposed to be picking flower arrangements.

  “I’m home,” I called, shutting the door to the penthouse behind me.

  “In the living room,” Gabriel replied, and it was only then that I heard voices coming through the speakerphone. “I’m just finishing up a call and then I’m all yours.”

  I chuckled at the irony of life. If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be walking into Gabriel Santos’s penthouse with a wedding dress carefully concealed while he was conducting business, I would have probably killed them.

  Of course, it wouldn’t always be this way.

  Once the wedding was behind us, I’d get into my father’s business and start helping Kian, and Gabriel would continue running the Santos Cartel. He and his brother agreed that Gabriel wouldn’t take over operations fully until his sight returned.

  And if it didn’t… Well, we’d cross that bridge when we got there.

  I tiptoed into our bedroom and put the wedding dress in the back of my closet. It wasn’t anything elaborate, just simple, and more me than any dress my mom or Liana had delivered. Those were currently crowding a different spot in my closet and would be donated first thing tomorrow with Luis’s help.

  The call must have ended, because the apartment went silent.

  I changed out of my clothes quickly, and instead of putting on my usual—shorts and a T-shirt—I opted for one of Gabriel’s shirts. I loved how his scent wrapped around me like a blanket.

  I made my way out of the room and down the hallway. The whole penthouse had an open concept, which made it easy to spot my man seated on the midnight-gray leather sectional in the center of the room.

  One arm was draped casually over the backrest, the other resting near his cane. His sleeves were rolled up to the forearm, shirt unbuttoned just enough to be considered a threat to my composure.

  For days, I’d been watching him—adjusting, recalibrating, navigating his new reality like a man unwilling to bow to it. And now, here he was. Strong. Steady. And mine.

  He tilted his head slightly toward me.

  His eyes—still blue and searching, though no longer seeing—were pointed just off-center from where I stood near the kitchen island.

  I crossed the room barefoot, the floors cool beneath my feet. The smooth polished stone reflected the low light and made the space feel larger than it already was. I dropped onto the couch beside him, careful not to jostle the cane as I curled into him on the cushion.

  “How was shopping, preciosa?” he asked, his voice all warm honey and dangerous charm, like he hadn’t just sent me into the ninth circle of bridal hell.

  “Boring,” I muttered. “I wish we could have just gone to the courthouse and gotten married. This shebang is not me.”

  He chuckled. “Shebang?”

  “Yes. She. Bang.” I gestured vaguely at the universe. “The glitter, the tulle, the thirty-seven opinions about which shade of white looks ‘less corpse-like’ on me, and Liana treating me like I’m about to be a star in the Corpse’s Bride.”

  He bit back a laugh. “A bride with a hint of spice and rage.”

  I sighed. “Don’t make me put a dent in your pristine penthouse.”

  He shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t notice it anyhow.” My chest tightened, although there was no bite to his words. Just facts. “Just make sure your wedding dress has that mermaid-tail thing, otherwise Luis will be so disappointed.”

  “Trumpet silhouette.” I shoved my shoulder lightly against his. “And Luis can put that shit on his own woman.”

  He chuckled. “Touché.”

  I sighed into his shoulder. “I just want to be your wife. I don’t need fifteen floral arrangements and a live harpist to prove it.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Then let’s compromise. We’ll have the harpist, but she only plays soundtracks from Stephen King movies.”

  I snorted. “Deal.”

  He smiled, although he stared out into the empty space. “Want to watch a movie?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you loved movies and popcorn,” he remarked.

  I didn’t want to stare at the screen while he couldn’t see it.

  “I just…” I trailed off, pressing my lips together, unsure how to relay that I was scared of peace.

  I wasn’t afraid of his blindness or our enemies or the ticking clock of legacy. I was afraid of the quiet. Of having everything and not knowing what to do with it. I only knew how to survive chaos, but living in calm seemed to be a whole new ballgame.

  Gabriel tugged me closer with gentle insistence until I tucked my legs beneath me and moved closer so he could wrap his arm around my waist. His body was warm, solid. Familiar in all the ways that mattered.

  “You don’t have to hold your breath waiting for the next explosion. Sometimes, it’s okay to just be,” he said, his voice a low murmur against my hair.

  I rested my head against his shoulder and exhaled. Let the weight press out of my ribs and into him. Let the quiet become something less oppressive. Just this once.

  “We’re still getting married, right?” he asked casually, like he wasn’t talking about a life-altering decision. “Unless the mermaid-ruffle thing and Liana’s nagging changed your mind.”

  I laughed into his shirt. “It strengthened my resolve, actually.”

  “Excellent.” He sounded relieved.

  “I’m never going to change my mind about you, Gabriel,” I assured him softly. “No matter what. I’m just terrified of normalcy, and this—us—is so normal.”

  He smiled. “Welcome to my world, preciosa. You can thank Sailor’s upbringing for the normal.”

  I chuckled.

  “I feel like mine was anything but normal.” He nodded as if he understood, and I really thought he did. “My parents didn’t bother to raise me like a girly girl, recognizing it wouldn’t work for me. Maybe it was part of Mother Liana’s influence, or simply just who I am.”

  “Probably a little bit of everything,” he said softly.

  “Yeah, probably.”

  “But you do know I wouldn’t have you any other way, right?”

  Gosh, Gabriel knew how to say all the right things, and I loved him for it.

  “Are you sure?” I whispered.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  I smiled happily.

  The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time. It was gentle, soft around the edges.

  Gabriel reached forward, his fingers brushing lightly across the surface of the low marble coffee table until they landed on a small, smooth object I hadn’t noticed before.

  “What’s this?” I questioned when he held it out to me.

  He smiled. “Open it and see.”

  He held the velvet box with both hands. Like it was something sacred. Like I was. I reached for it and started unwrapping it, a gasp tearing from my lips.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain. So unlike his usually unshakable confidence.

  I opened my mouth, but for a second, no words came out. My throat tightened and my heart thudded in that uneven way it always did around him.

  “I know you’re not into anything flashy,” he continued, nervously rubbing his thumb on his thigh. “I was really specific—painfully specific—because I wanted it to feel like… you. Quiet but strong. Simple but impossible to overlook.” He smiled faintly. “One ring to bind us.”

  That made me laugh, even as my eyes stung.

  “I love it,” I breathed. My fingers trembled as I reached for the delicate band. It was elegant white gold, set with a gentle arc of tiny diamonds that caught the light without screaming for attention. “It’s perfect. Understated, stunning.”

  “I’m glad,” he murmured, relief softening his features.

  I held the ring up, admiring the way it glittered. A promise made solid. “This’ll be the only ring I ever wear. Forever.”

  He grinned. “Guess that means I did okay, huh?”

  “You did better than okay. You picked a ring I want to be buried with.”

  His brow lifted. “Planning your funeral already? Damn, marriage is serious.”

  I chuckled. “I’m just saying that from now on, you’re stuck with me. Blood, death, taxes, and this ring.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Well, since we’re exchanging gifts, I did pick up something for you while I was out today.”

  I reached into my pocket and handed him the cold metal.

  His brow arched. “You bought me a watch?”

  “Well, I didn’t want you to lose your whole sexy-mob-boss aesthetic. It’s a vintage Braille Citizen Shine. You can feel the time instead of seeing it.”

  He chuckled, running his fingers over the curved metal. “Describe it.”

  “Very sleek. Silver face. Black leather band. Minimalist design. Also waterproof. You can open the outer layer and feel the handles. It’s sexy as hell, just like you.”

  He turned the watch over in his hand, studying it with his fingertips. “You think I’m sexy?”

  “You’re blind, not deaf, Gabriel,” I said playfully. “Stop fishing for compliments.”

  “Just needed confirmation.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a low whisper near my ear. “I love you, Amara.”

  My breath caught. I turned to face him, suddenly very aware of the potent heat rising between us. It was the kind that was impossible to ignore. My heart fluttered with the deep ache of a woman who knew what it meant to almost lose everything.

  “I love you too,” I whispered.

  His hand found my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my jaw, lingering like he was mapping every dip and curve.

  “Even if my eyes permanently stay like this?”

  “I didn’t fall in love with your eyes,” I said as I shifted, straddling him with slow purpose. My hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of the heartbeat I now knew like a rhythm under my skin.