Chapter 21: His Angel: Chapter 21

I trudge up the porch steps, the sand still sticking to my bare feet from my walk on the beach. The ocean air lingers on my skin, a salty coolness that clings to my hair and the hem of my sundress, but my mind is heavy with so many thoughts scattered in too many directions.

It’s been weeks. Maybe months. I’ve lost count. It’s easy to lose any sense of reality when on an island like this, surrounded by paradise while the man I love so wholly, so dangerously, occupies every minute of every day. But every now and then the world trickles in with memories and worry.

Like my mom.

Isaia’s been keeping a close eye on her, receiving regular reports from her doctor keeping him informed of my mother’s treatment. All I know is that she’s doing great under the circumstances.

Chemo isn’t making her too sick—only mild nausea easily treated with medication. All in all, she’s in good spirits, considering.

I keep asking him if I can see her. Talk to her. FaceTime or something. But every time, I get the same answer as before. “It’s too dangerous.”

I get it. I really do. I’ve been forced to live in the world of power plays long enough to know Isaia’s right. Anthony’s dad, Tony, the man is nothing if not patiently ruthless. He can easily wait this out, and Isaia’s pretty sure he too has his eyes on my mom, just in case I’d want to do something stupid like reach out to her.

But goddammit, it’s hard. It’s hard sitting here on a tropical island where Isaia and I can play pretend while she fights for her life alone.

But these are the cards we’ve been dealt, and now Isaia and I are forced to play with what we’ve got.

Luna runs up to Ryan, wagging her tail at him, and there’s a slight tug at the corners of his lips. Trust a basset to crack even the stoniest of faces.

Isaia’s been gone most of the day, and Ryan’s been shadowing me, his presence a silent, looming reminder of the Del Rossa family’s control.

I don’t try to start a conversation with him or anyone else this time, keeping my distance. After the fight between Isaia and Wyatt, I decided to tread on the side of caution.

I haven’t seen Wyatt since that explosive confrontation, and a part of me wonders where he’s gone. I chalk it up to Isaia’s temper; he probably fired him, his possessive streak leaving no room for second chances.

My eyes catch on something unexpected on the porch table, a bottle of champagne, its label gleaming in the fading light, a single crystal glass beside it, and a card tucked neatly against it.

I glance at Ryan, who doesn’t bat an eyelash, and then at Luna. “What do you think this is, girl?”

She flops down, ears splayed on the deck, completely uninvested in whatever this is.

Curiosity flickers through my exhaustion, and I step closer, my fingers brushing the cool glass as I pick up the card. The handwriting is unmistakably Isaia’s—sharp, commanding, with a roughness that matches the man himself. I read the instructions slowly, as excitement blooms.

My heart skips a beat, a mix of intrigue and nervous anticipation swirling in my chest.

What is he planning?

I pour the champagne, the golden liquid fizzing softly as it fills the glass, and take a slow sip, the crisp, buttery taste blooming on my tongue. It’s rich, decadent, with a hint of citrus that lingers, and I let it settle me, washing away the day’s tension as I head inside to find the dress.

The gown waits for me on my bed, a vision of ivory lace that steals my breath the moment I see it. It’s an A-line with a deep V-neck, the bodice intricately woven with delicate floral patterns that shimmer like they’ve been kissed by moonlight.

The lace clings to the fabric, tracing every curve with an almost otherworldly elegance, and the skirt flows, long and ethereal, soft as a whisper against my fingertips. A daring high slit on one side promises to reveal my leg with every step, a sexy tease that plays at my confidence.

I slip out of my sundress and step into the gown, the lace hugging my body, molding to my breasts and waist before flaring out into the skirt. The slit parts as I move, a glimpse of thigh that feels both bold and vulnerable, and I catch my reflection in the mirror. The dress is breathtaking, and I look almost like a bride stepping into a dream, the ivory making my skin glow warmly.

My hair falls in loose waves over my shoulders, and I leave it down, letting the dress speak for itself.

Talon waits for me outside, his broad frame a silent sentinel in the fading light, and I follow him down a decked pathway leading away from the house.

The sun dips low on the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of coral, lavender, and gold, the colors bleeding into one. The ocean stretches out to my left, its surface shimmering with the last rays of sunlight, and the air hums with the scent of salt and blooming jasmine, a sweetness that wraps around me like a soft embrace.

The pathway is lined with lush greenery. Palm fronds and ferns brush against my skirt as we walk, their leaves rustling in the evening breeze.

Fairy lights are strung along the wooden railings, their tiny glows flickering to life as the sky darkens, casting a warm, golden haze over the scene. I glance at Talon, my curiosity bubbling despite my resolve to stay quiet.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer, his silence steady and unyielding, and I don’t press, letting the mystery pull me forward like a tide I can’t resist.

The path winds deeper into the island, away from the villa’s lights, and I feel the world grow quieter, more intimate, as if we’re stepping into a secret only the island knows. The sound of the ocean fades to a gentle whisper, replaced by the chirp of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves overhead.

We pass a small waterfall cascading over smooth rocks into a pool that reflects the sunset’s colors, and I pause for a moment, captivated by the beauty of it.

Talon waits patiently, his presence a quiet reassurance, and I continue, my heart beating faster with every step. The pathway curves one last time, and then it opens to a secluded clearing nestled deep in the island’s heart, a scene so perfect it feels like I’ve stepped into a movie.

Ancient trees arch overhead, their gnarled branches dripping with fairy lights that twinkle like a constellation brought down to earth, casting a golden glow over everything.

Candles flicker in glass lanterns, their flames dancing along a stone pathway that leads to a small wooden platform at the center of the clearing. A canopy of sheer white fabric drapes above the platform, billowing softly in the breeze, and the ground is scattered with petals in shades of blush and cream, their delicate scent mingling with the jasmine in the air.

Vines climb the trees, studded with tiny white flowers that glow in the twilight, and a stream runs nearby, its gentle babble blending with the rustle of leaves to create a symphony of nature’s music.

The sky above is a deep indigo now, the first stars peeking through, and the entire scene feels like a dream, a pocket of magic carved out just for us.

Isaia waits for me on the platform, and seeing him stops my breath in my throat.

He’s dressed in an all-black suit, the fabric tailored to his broad shoulders and lean frame, hugging every muscle with a precision that makes my mouth go dry. The suit is sharp, the black so deep it seems to absorb the light, contrasting with the faint tan of his skin where his shirt opens at the collar.

His dark hair is swept back, a few strands falling loose to frame his face, giving him a roguish edge that only makes him more devastating.

Those piercing brown eyes lock on to mine, burning with an intensity that sends heat pooling low in my belly, and I can’t look away. He’s a vision of danger and elegance, a man who could command a room or break a heart with a single look, and right now, he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters. Like I’m the one thing he’s been waiting for his entire life.

“You look handsome, Mr. Del Rossa.”

His hands are tucked in his pants pockets, his demeanor screaming sex and dominance, his gaze drinking me in.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. “But there aren’t any words to describe just how beautiful you look.” He smirks, all victorious and proud. “I must say, my taste is impeccable.”

My hands glide down the front of the lace. “You chose the dress?”

“You know I did.”

Warmth spreads to my cheeks as I stare at him. The fairy lights catch the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and I feel my knees weaken, my body responding to him in a way that’s as instinctive as breathing.

Talon slips away without a word, his footsteps fading into the night, leaving us alone in this enchanted space. I’m caught up in the romance, my chest tight with an emotion I can’t quite name, and Isaia steps forward, scooping me close with a tenderness that makes my heart ache.

I glance down at the dress. “Any particular reason you chose white?”

His eyes darken with something deeper than desire, something that makes my breath catch. “I wanted to see you dressed in white…for me.”

Not for him. Three words that remain unspoken, but it’s there.

Isaia steps up close, his thumbs brushing the lace on my thigh above the slit. “I’m so damn lucky I got there in time, before you and Anthony could sign that marriage license. That would’ve meant you’d still be married to him.”

I shake my head, a bitter edge creeping into my voice as I correct him. “That would make me his widow.”

Something hard flashes across his expression, and he cuts his gaze to the side, as if he’s trying to get rid of a thought before he looks back at me.

“Isaia, what is this?”

“This is us.” His answer is simple but holds a depth that drowns me.

His hands settle on my waist, warm through the fabric, and I feel his steady strength, the way he holds me like I’m something precious. As if on cue, music begins to play—“BeautifulThings” by Benson Boone, its haunting melody filling the air with a bittersweet ache.

“I love this song.”

Isaia pulls me closer. “I’m not really good with words, but this song is everything I feel when it comes to you.”

We sway slowly, our bodies pressed together, and I feel the steady beat of his heart against mine, a rhythm that grounds me in this moment.

His fingers trace the curve of my spine, sending shivers through me, and I rest my cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent—something uniquely Isaia.

He twirls me gently, my dress flaring out around me like a cloud, the slit parting to reveal my leg as I spin. The fairy lights blur into streaks of gold, and I laugh softly, the sound swallowed by the music as he pulls me back into his arms.

At the chorus, where the lyrics speak of a man’s fear of losing what he loves, Isaia dips me low, his hand at the small of my back, his face inches from mine, and I can see it in his eyes, everything this song’s about, reflecting in the way that he looks at me, like I could slip away at any moment.

He pulls me upright, spinning me once more before drawing me close again, and we sway, lost in the music, in each other. He leans his forehead against mine, eyes closed, like he’s praying. Like he’s talking to God, pleading to the heavens something I can’t understand.

His thumb traces the line of my jaw, tucks a stray curl behind my ear, and whatever this is, it’s so powerful it brings tears to my eyes as my heart swells in my chest.

“Isaia, what’s wrong?”

He’s pressing his lips together, eyes still shut, brushing his fingers down my throat. “I can’t lose you, baby girl.”

“You won’t.”

His lips find mine in a kiss that’s soft and searing, a promise in every brush, and I melt into him, the world narrowing to the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, the way he holds me like he’ll never let go.

Without pulling his lips from mine completely, he lingers. “He can take you away from me.”

I feel it. His fear. His desperation. It thrums between us, bringing tears to my eyes, ensnaring my heart. I rest my hands on his chest and look up at him.

“Don’t think like that, okay? It’s just a song.”

Shaking his head, he takes my hand, clutching it tight, bringing it up between us, kissing my fingers tenderly.

“The fear of losing you is constant, like a shadow, baby girl.” His voice is a low rumble, barely audible over the melody, and I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning my head to the side.

“We don’t know what’s going to matter tomorrow, the day after that, or the day after that. All we know is now, this very minute, and right now I promise you…you won’t lose me.”

Isaia hugs me closer in response, his body tensing. The weight of his arms around me intensifies, as if he wants to make sure I’m still there, secure in his hold.

For a moment, we hold on to each other so tight we almost merge into one, the song rushing toward its end, our heartbeats pulsing in harmony. His breath hitches against my ear, a silent sob, a fear of tomorrow and of the days that will follow.

With both hands, he frames my face, his lips so close, and our noses touch. “I can tell you I love you a thousand times, scream it from the rooftops, write it in the sky, but it’s only words. And what I feel for you, it’s beyond words. It’s too deep. Too raw. I’ll never be able to make you understand what I feel for you.”

A tear slips down my cheek. “Isaia⁠—”

He steps back, and before I can process what’s happening, he sinks to his knees before me, the movement so unexpected I can’t breathe.

He pulls a small velvet box from his pocket, and my hands fly to my mouth as he opens it, revealing a ring that glints in the fairy lights—a simple band with a single, flawless diamond, elegant and timeless, like a star captured in metal.

“Everly Beaumont,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve been born into privilege, given everything this world can offer. But you…” His gaze pierces me. “You’re the one thing I want to earn. Marry me. Be mine, not because I demand it, but because you choose it.”

Tears break free, the weight of his words sinking into me like a tide I can’t fight.

I look down at him, this man who’s been unbreakable, demanding, strong, a force of nature in a world of chaos, and I see the vulnerability in his brown irises, the pure hope that strips him bare.

The lights glow around us, the candles flickering like tiny heartbeats, and it’s like every moment spent with him flashes in front of me—the good, the bad, and the worst—but as my mind flickers through our history, there’s only one word my soul wants to scream.

“Yes.” I smother a sob with my hand. “Yes, Isaia. A thousand times, yes.”

His face lights up, carving deep lines of relief through the intensity. He slips the ring onto my trembling finger, a perfect fit, and rises to his feet.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Our bodies collide, and he kisses me like I’m the air he breathes, his lips pressing urgently against mine, consuming me with a passion that leaves me breathless.

His hands find their way into my hair, stroking and twisting the strands as though trying to capture every single sensation of this moment.

His kiss deepens, turns desperate, and I let him. I let him take everything and give all of myself in return. It’s like there’s magic, around us, in us, enveloping us, bottling this moment in something impenetrable, something no one can ever take away from us.

I’m breathless when he breaks the kiss and gently eases a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s no time like the present.”

“What?”

“Priest?” he calls without taking his eyes off me, and I’m so confused, heart beating fast, and I stop breathing the moment a priest walks up on the deck. “This is Father Tobias. He can marry us right now.”

“Right now?” My gaze flicks between Isaia and the blue-eyed priest with dark hair and looks that seem more fitting for a sinner.

“You up for it, baby girl?”

“Isaia,” I try to steady my breathing, “you’re going at like a thousand miles a minute here.”

He chuckles and places his forehead against mine, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief and an unspoken desire.

His hands, rough yet gentle, cradle my face as he whispers, “That’s because every minute I’m not married to you feels like wasted time.”

I frown at him, a thought popping into my head. “You’re doing this to protect me.”

“I’m doing this because I love you.”

“You think they won’t come after me if I’m your wife?”

The priest inches back, but Isaia merely lifts a finger at him. “Stay.” The priest pauses. “I’m not going to lie to you, baby girl,” Isaia continues. “Yes, giving you the Del Rossa name will add a layer of protection, which is partly why I want to do this right now.”

“Partly?”

He places a kiss on the top of my hand. “I love you. I’m spending the rest of my life with you, no question. So why wait? Like you said earlier, we don’t know what will happen tomorrow, in a week, a month, or a year from now. All we know is now, this very moment. And right now, I want to marry you. I want to make you my wife. I don’t care what the future brings. I just want now.”

I waver, staring into his eyes, which are filled with determination and love. The intensity of his emotions is overwhelming, almost tangible in the cool sea air.

I swallow hard, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I love him, too; there’s no doubt in my heart about that. But what if⁠—

“Don’t overthink it, baby girl.”

My heart stammers in my chest.

“Let’s live tonight like there’s no tomorrow.”

I look over at Father Tobias, who waits patiently, shifting from foot to foot but keeping a kindly gaze on us.

My pulse is racing, confusion mixed with excitement fluttering in my stomach, and when I turn back to Isaia, his gaze is steady on mine. Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted? To never bury myself in a predictable life? To never settle just because I have to?

Marrying him now is not me settling simply because it’s the next step in a predictable relationship. Marrying Isaia right here, right now, not knowing what will come next…that’s living. It’s the start of a life that’s guaranteed to be as unpredictable as the man standing before me. And God knows, that should scare me…but it doesn’t. It excites me.

It thrills me.

“Okay.” My voice shakes with emotion.

Isaia’s eyes light up. “Okay?”

“Yes.” I smile. “Let’s do this. Let’s get married.”