Masked Sins (Ravaged Castle, #4)

by Amanda Richardson

“I, uh…” The nervous energy makes it hard to stand still. “I actually wanted to ask you for something. Officially.” His eyebrows lift, curiosity replacing his usual fatherly sternness. “Go on.” I shift my weight, deciding to blurt everything out and rip the bandaid off. Why the fuck not. “I love Layla. I’ve loved her for a long time now. And I want to make sure I do this right.” My voice wavers for a second, but I steady myself, meeting his gaze head-on. “I want your blessing to ask her to marry me. When she’s ready, of course. We only just started … ” For a second, there’s nothing but a distant hum of life going on around us. Scott doesn’t move, his face unreadable, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped. But then, slowly, a smile creeps onto his face, warm and genuine. “You already have my blessing,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He claps my shoulder, a little rougher this time, like he’s holding back the flood of feelings rushing between us. “You’ll be good for her. I know it.” Relief surges through me, and I blink back the sudden sting in my eyes. “Thank you, Scott. It means the world to me that you approve.” He clears his throat, pretending to be casual, but I can see the emotion tugging at the corners of his eyes. “Just make sure you don’t screw it up, alright? She’s my girl.” “I won’t,” I promise, my voice firm with conviction. “I’ll take care of her. Always.” Scott nods again, his hand still gripping my shoulder as if to cement the deal, then lets go with a sigh...

“Interesting development,” Raphael says as we walk backstage a minute later. He turns to face me with a smirk. “I still don’t forgive him for punching me, but I get it now.” “Get what?” “He’s in love with you.”

The recessed light above us catches on the dainty gold bracelet around my wrist—the one I insisted had to stay on for the performance. The diamonds sparkle just so, highlighting the constellation pattern, and I gasp. “Oh my God. It’s Orion’s belt.” He grunts, and a puff of air escapes his lips. “Took you long enough.” “You’re so sneaky,” I tell him, gasping when his nails dig into the flesh of my thigh. “I know⁠—” I cut him off with a kiss, wanting his mouth on mine.

I sit down on the chair and untie the satin ribbon. Then I lift the lid. Inside is something wrapped in bubble wrap, and my hands are shaking as I turn it over and over, revealing⁠— I gasp. “Oh my God.” The Phantom of the Opera. “A first edition?” My shaking hands flip to the copyright page, and sure enough … Press of Braunworth & Co. Bookbinders and Printers Brooklyn, N. Y. First Edition, 1909. I set the book down on my lap. “Orion, this book is so, so rare. The dust jacket design with the Phantom on the stairwell? Only one of three total physical copies of the book is known to have retained the dust jacket in the whole world.” I’d done a lot of research. “Wait, did you pay thirty-two thousand dollars for this?” I ask, breathless. He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.” I wrap the book back up carefully, placing the box on an empty shelf before I walk back over to Orion. “It does matter,” I murmur, placing a hand on his face. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone will ever be able to top this gift.” He smirks, kissing the inside of my wrist. “Good. I will endeavor to always be the best gift-giver.”

This—with the sounds of my boyfriend making me food in the kitchen, a smutty book on my Kindle, and a cat purring at my side—is everything I ever could’ve wanted. It’s the kind of peace and contentment I never thought I’d have, the quiet, perfect moments I used to dream about when I was alone. It’s the feeling of being right where I’m meant to be.

I gently kiss her forehead and place my mouth against her temple. “Thank you for choosing me,” I whisper. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what happens as long as she’s the one standing next to me. I’d never needed anything but her—and yes, it was unhealthy, and I was perhaps a little bit problematic and possessive at times. Things like my job and my family brought me joy, but Layla? She’s my center, the constant in a world of change. She always has been—ever since the day I met her. Every moment without her over the last decade felt like a fragment of a life I couldn’t fully live. Not until she was back in it. She keeps the brute in me steady and grounded. She’s the reason I find meaning in every day. She is the axis around which my universe spins, and I would never apologize for that. Not when her love is the one thing I’ll always crave and cherish.