Page 131 of Godless Saints

CHAPTER 32

MOON

I shook out my arms, trying to loosen the tension in my shoulders. I’d stayed up all night putting the final touches on my speech, but what really bothered me was that Cillian had left me on read. He never leaves me on read.

“Miss me, prince?”

I spun around and immediately stepped into his space. “What happened to you?” I touched the ugly bruise blooming along his jaw and neck. His knuckles were raw, red and blue. “You said you went to Ireland. You left me on read last night. What the hell is going on?”

He touched my face, pushing my hair back. “I’ll explain later. Everything’s okay now.”

I just looked at him.

We were standing in front of the Cathedral, the same place we’d met after Saint Lucia. Cold stone under my shoes. For once I wanted to kiss him anyway. To hell with legacy.

But he still wasn’t telling me anything.

“Moon Hyun-seo.”

He dropped to one knee.

Nausea rolled through me. One girl on the steps turned around. Stared. Her phone came out a second later, screen already flashing. He’s never going to change.

“No. Cillian, stop.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him up. “Get up. People are watching.”

“Let them.”

He didn’t move. Just looked up at me like I could argue all I wanted and he’d still get his way.

He reached into his coat.

“Cillian—”

“Moonshine.”

He opened the small black box. Slim warm gold band.

My throat went tight.

This fucking idiot. My fucking idiot. Nothing about us was ever going to be modest.

“This is insane,” I whispered.

“Aye.”

I could feel the crowd shifting closer. Phones already out, screens glowing. Whispers turning into gasps. The doors behind us opened for the ceremony. This was fixable. It had to be.

Cillian took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger. Then he stood and pulled me up with him, one arm locked tight around my waist.

“You’re supposed to ask me first,” I muttered against his neck, pulse hammering against his skin. “You’re so fucking self-assured.”

When he finally set me back on my feet, his hand stayed locked on my waist.

“Will you marry me?”

I was so tired of pretending I didn’t want this. Want him. Tired of lying to myself about what I was. Father’s ultimatum still hung over my head. Forty-eight hours ticking down. I would give it all up for that Irish menace. I could spin this as strategic. My heart gave one painful, stupid lurch. I swallowed.

“I don’t have a ring for you yet,” I said. “But I want to get you one.”