DOMINIC
I'd been shot, attacked, publicly destroyed. Asking her to marry me seemed like the least dangerous thing I'd done all week.
My shoulder throbbed despite the painkillers. I'd been out of the hospital for three days and Maya had barely slept, buried in legal documents and damage control. She sat across from me now in the penthouse living room, dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back in a messy knot.
"We need to talk," I said.
She looked up from her laptop. "If it's about the board meeting, I already told Gerald to go to hell."
"It's not about the board." I set down my coffee, wincing as the movement pulled at my stitches. "It's about us."
Her fingers stopped moving on the keyboard.
"Dominic, if this is about what happened the other night, we don't have to define…"
"Ma
