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"We've had that chance." His pale blue eyes are intense on mine. "This past year, watching you build your life, watching you become even more yourself—it's been the greatest privilege of my life. Every day, I choose you. And every day, you choose me back. That's more than I ever thought I'd have. More than I ever thought I deserved."

Tears are starting to blur my vision. "Andrei?—"

"Let me finish." He squeezes my hands. "I know I asked you before. But that was different. That was in the middle of war and chaos and uncertainty." He lets go of one of my hands andreaches into his pocket. When his hand emerges, he's holding a small velvet box.

My breath catches.

"Liesl Baumann." He opens the box, revealing a ring that catches the fading sunlight—a simple, elegant oval diamond on a platinum band. "Will you marry me? Not because you're trapped or because you have no other choice, but because you want to. Because you choose this—because you choose me."

The tears spill over. I'm crying and smiling at the same time, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. "Yes." The word comes out choked. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Joy spreads across his face. He takes the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger.

It fits perfectly.

"I love you," he says, pulling me into his arms. "I love you so fucking much."

"I love you too." I'm crying into his shoulder now, overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment. "I choose you. I'll always choose you."

He kisses me then, and it's different from every kiss before. It's a promise. A beginning. When we finally break apart, the sun has set, and the sky is full of stars. We stand there on the beach, wrapped in each other, and I feel like the luckiest woman alive.

Not because I'm marrying a powerful man. Not because I'm marrying someone wealthy or dangerous or influential. I'm marrying someone who loves me enough to let me be free.

"Come on," Andrei says, taking my hand. "Let's go back to the house."

We walk back up the beach, and I can't stop looking at the ring on my finger. I can't stop smiling.

"When do you want to get married?" he asks, as we step up onto the porch.

"I don't know. Soon? I don't need a big wedding. Just something small. Intimate."

"Whatever you want." He kisses the top of my head. "I just want you to be my wife."

"I want that too." I tilt my head up to look at him. "But I'm keeping my apartment."

He laughs. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

I blink at him. "Really? You're okay with that?"

"Liesl." He cups my face. "I'm marrying you because I love who you are. I'm not trying to change you or own you or make you into something you're not. I want you exactly as you are—independent, strong, and bratty as hell."

"I'm not bratty."

"You are. And it gets me incredibly fucking hard."

I feel my face flush as I burst into laughter. "Why don't you show me right now?"

"Oh, I intend to." He scoops me up into his arms, carrying me toward the bedroom. "For the next forty-eight hours, all you're going to be wearing is that ring."

"I look forward to it, Mr. Petrov."

"So do I." He sets me down, just inside our room. "Future Mrs. Petrovna."

He kisses me, and all I can think is how far we've come—from that first terrifying moment in the van to this moment of perfect happiness.

It shouldn't have worked. A kidnapping shouldn't have turned into love. A captor and captive shouldn't have become husband and wife.

But somehow, against all odds, it did work. It's not a fairy tale. It's not a simple love story.

And that makes it perfect.