I woke to warmth all around me and the familiar feel of silk. My body ached in pain but I barely noticed it. The room was dark but I don't think it was night.

My eyes slightly opened to the familiar bedroom of our home. I hugged the pillows under my head, drunk on their softness. A smile spread on my lips, feeling my heart full for the first time in my life.

In a second, everything began to flow through my head. Sebastian Drago. Sebastian kidnapped me to lure Patrick to the docks. He also kidnapped Nickola and Zoey to make me behave. He confessed his plan to rule the mafias of New York and how it started with killing Patrick and I and buying our businesses. He tried to rape me – twice. Patrick confessed his love and afterwards, he shot Drago. I didn't remember anything else.

"Patrick?" I called out, rolling over to see him.

The space was empty.

"Patrick?" I called out again.

God, what if something happened to him? What if something happened that I didn't even know about?

"Patrick!" I yelled, trying to push the doona off me.

My arms ached in pain, struggling with the simple movement.

"Eliza!" I heard his voice before the door opened.

My whole body relaxed when I saw him. Just him. In sweats and a singlet. He had a new gash in his arm and a cut across his cheek. But he was still the same.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, looking me up and down, "you're not leaving this bed for another week."

"I was going to look for you," I told him, before he pushed my legs back under the covers and tucked me in.

"I was only gone for ten minutes," he reassured me, "I had to make a phone call, that's all."

"To who?" I questioned, hoping he would trust me with the truth.

He swallowed, sitting on the edge of the bed, "I didn't want to worry you. Not until you had recovered."

"What?" I frowned, sitting forward, worried.

He licked his lips, stalling, "Piero got hit."

"What?" I cried, attempting to get out of bed before Patrick pushed me down again.

"He's fine, I promise," He reassured me, "He's at the hospital."

"Well, why aren't we there. We should be with him," I told him, furious that he had been focused on me and not on Piero.

"Garrick's with him. And Nickola and Zoey are getting checked up too."

Words refused to flow from my lips, shocked that Patrick didn't tell me. What had happened from when Sebastian was shot till now?

"Patrick, what happened?" I asked him, tired of the confusion.

"Well, after I shot Drago, you were pretty out of it. You fainted and I took you home," I told me.

"What about the others?" I asked, "What about Drago's men?"

"All dead."

"And the evidence?" I questioned, not recognising my voice.

"Burnt. Egor and Eagle blew up the place not long after we left. There's no evidence of Drago even being back in the city. And one dead gangster is nothing to the police. They won't come asking questions."

I nodded, a little relieved.

"And Paige?" I asked, scared of the answer.

"We're still tracking her down," he admitted, "She's probably left the country."

I nodded, swallowing. If she was smart, she should have left months ago.

"Good. She deserves everything she gets," I spat, shifting a little in my spot.

Patrick's eyes widened in surprise but his smirk said everything, "Now, that's not the girl I know and love."

I giggled, my cheeks burning under his deep stare. He chuckled at me, running his fingers over my doona-covered thigh.

"I was a mess when I got the call," Patrick muttered under his breath, not meeting my eyes, "I trashed the study and I...I almost punched Alberto in the face."

"Almost?" I questioned.

"Well, Garrick stopped me," he admitted, making me snort, "I was so...scared. I mean, I was angry but I had never felt so frightened in my life. I couldn't even think properly."

"Hey, me too," I told him, taking a hold of his hand.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he muttered, his voice a whisper, his eyes shinning with fresh tears.

I felt a lump form in the back of my throat as I remembered my own fear. When Drago had snatched me in the dark, when he had pinned me against the table, when he told me he was going to kill both of us.

"Me too," I whispered, latching onto his hand harder.

"I kept on thinking. What if that's what your father meant? When he said not to be too late like he was."

I frowned, "What?"

"The letter that he wrote you, remember?"

Oh.

"It said, tell Patrick not to be too late like I was," he told me, making my heart race, "that's all I kept thinking. What if I was too late and I never got to tell you how much I loved you?"

"I knew Patrick," I reassured him, "I knew you loved me in your own way."

"It wouldn't have been good enough, not for me," he argued, jumping closer to me, "I love you, Eliza, I love you so much."

A smile spread across my lips feeling my heart want to burst.

"I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I wanted you as my wife, my lover. But it was the first time your life was in danger that I realized that I couldn't go back to my life before I met you. I couldn't go back to the darkness after you showed me the light, Eliza."

Small tears dropped from my eyes, my body shaking with nerves.

Patrick frowned, "Your crying? Why are you crying? God, it wasn't meant to upset you."

"I'm just so happy," I sniffed, "It's all I've ever wanted. Someone to love me as much as my father loved my mother. I never thought I would have it. But...now I have."

He smiled, his eyes shining as he looked at me.

"Yeah, you do."

He leaned in and gently took my lips. Our kiss wasn't hungry or in a moment of lust. It was full of love and affection that not even poets could describe.

"Give me your ring?" he asked, pulling back.

"What?" I cried, "Look, Patrick I know that we've been through a lot but I don't think breaking up is the option."

"Eliza, just give me your ring," he laughed, taking my hand for himself, before pulling off my two rings.

He placed my wedding ring on the bedside table before kneeling down in front of me, holding out his mother's engagement ring. Oh my God. He wasn't. He couldn't be. My heart leaped into my thought when I realized that he was.

"Eliza, Uccello-Maestri, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" he asked, his lips slowly forming a nervous grin, "to be at my side in times of hardships and in times of happiness. To be my lover and the guardian of my spirit. To yell at me when I'm being an idiot and to always argue with me when I try to give you orders," I snorted at that, "to be my Queen, the ruler of my heart and the match to show me the light."

I biting my lip, I could barely contain the word, "Yes. Of course."

He smiled, standing up and taking a hold of my lips again. I ignored the pain in my lip, refusing to let go of my husband.

"Let's do it our way," I breathed, letting go of him, "let's invite who we want. Plan it our way."

"No strangers for bestmen and bridemaids."

"No puffy white dresses," I giggled.

Patrick smiled at me, running his hands through the loose strands of my hair.

"I want to have your babies, Patrick," I confessed, tracing the dip in his singlet.

"I want you to have my babies," he smiled.

"I want a dog."

He nodded, "me too."

"German Shepherd?" I questioned.

He chuckled, "you read my mind."

I giggled as we slowly became silent, our fingers doing all the talking.

"I want to grow old with you, Eliza," Patrick confessed, his voice rich and full of meaning, "I want to wake up every morning with you by my side. I want to be your version of me - the best version, for the rest of my life."

It was start of another chapter for us. The memory of Sebastian Drago would never be too far from my mind but with Patrick's body next to me, it was put at bay. Now we could start the real stuff. Build our empires, strengthen our relationship, protect our love.
Because when it came down to it, it was the only thing that was important. It was time to be the wife.

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