December 22, 1944

“Since I won’t see you on Christmas, I brought your present today,” he tells me quietly.

We’re lounging on the couch, the two of us completely nude now but keeping warm thanks to the crackling fire a few feet from us. I lay my head on his chest, my fingers tracing invisible pictures on his skin.

I frown, tilting my chin to look up at him. “You said no presents.”

“I said no presents for me,” he corrects. Another grin ticks up the corners of his mouth. “I never said I wouldn’t get you anything.”

“Ronaldo,” I whine. “That’s not fair.”

“Then I suppose it’s a terrible time to confess that it’s also my birthday today.”

I gasp, sitting up on my elbow to glare at him.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve—”

He rests a finger over my lips, silencing me.

“Right here, right now, this is all I could ever want from you, Genevieve. Nothing else.”

I frown. “But I could have done something special for you.”

“Baby, the only thing I want for my birthday and Christmas is your love.” He pauses. “And maybe your pretty cunt on my face. Otherwise, I want for nothing else.”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but chuckle. I’m incapable of berating him for his vulgarity and insatiable appetite when I’m no better.

What we just did . . .

There are never any words for it.

He reaches beneath the cushion behind him and pulls out a small box, holding it in his palm. I hadn’t even seen him hide it there when we lay down.

My stare pings between his glittering eyes and the black box he’s presenting to me. Sighing, I take it, flicking him one last indignant glance before opening it.

I gasp. A beautiful red rose brooch shines from within, the petals encrusted in glittering rubies. I sit up, balancing on my elbow as I stare at the piece that surely cost way too much.

“Ronaldo,” I breathe. “It’s exquisite. But it’s simply too much.”

“It’s not nearly enough. If I could, you would have a ring on your finger,” he rebuts. “But I will settle for a brooch for now. I figured it may be something your husband would assume you’ve had for years.”

Emotion clogs my throat as I set the box on his stomach and wrap myself around him. He cradles me to him as I brush my lips against his.

“Thank you,” I whisper against his mouth, also hating that his ring doesn’t decorate my finger. Maybe one day, but today, I am only happy he’s here.

“Just be careful,” he murmurs between soft kisses. “It could prick you.”

I grin against him, my chest so full, I can hardly breathe. “I would gladly bleed for you.”

He groans his approval against my lips, and butterflies flutter in my stomach as an idea strikes me.

Pulling away, I sit up on my knees, watching him carefully as he stares at me with confusion. Now that I’m no longer in the throes of ecstasy, taking control in such a way has my nerves prickling. But if I am anything, I am brave.

“The least I could do is make all your wishes come true,” I say, staring at him with a half-lidded gaze. “It would be awfully rude of me not to.”

His expression slackens as I straddle his chest, prompting him to readjust a little and give my legs room on either side of him. Then I climb over his face and watch as his mouth parts in awe and a savage hunger ignites in his pale eyes.

“You wanted my pretty cunt on your face. And now I want you to eat it.”

“Fucking Christ,” he curses, not wasting another second before he does exactly as I ask.

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