Playing the Billionaire's Game - Pippa Roscoe Page 0,65

know that,’ he said with all the sincerity she could ever wish for, soothing away some of the hurts of their last encounter.

‘Well, as you gave me the painting, I’m assuming I wouldn’t have needed your permission,’ she teased.

‘Nope, absolutely not. I just...it’s important to me that you know the painting is completely yours to do with as you wish. Because you are more important to me than the painting. Than anything.’

Her heart soared with his words and with wonder. He loved her. She shook her head a little. He’d given her so much. And the gesture that he had made, of love, of trust, that must have cost him so much emotionally, could only be matched by one thing.

‘I’m not really that sure what painting you’re talking about. Because I haven’t opened the briefcase.’

‘You haven’t?’ He pulled back, staring at her a little as if she had lost her mind.

‘I didn’t need to,’ she said, reaching up to cup his jaw, relishing the feeling of the stubble tickling her palm. ‘Whether this painting is the Durrántez, a Monet or a Pissarro, I love you and I trust you. And I want to thank you. Because you showed me that it was okay to be all of me. To want more, to be more, to be bright and shiny and powerful.’ As she said the words she felt them working a magic within her. Not only knowing that they were true, but feeling it as well. ‘That wanting to be more, wanting more, wouldn’t make me selfish or mean, but that it would make me strong. And part of that strength is drawn from the love that I feel for you.’

Sebastian took her hand and placed it on his heart, desperate for her to know, to feel how much her words meant to him. ‘And I want to thank you. You showed me how to make peace with my past, so that I could be free to make a different future for myself. A future I want to make with you. I want to have babies with you, to be a father to our children, a husband, lover and best friend to you.’ Her beautiful blue eyes shone with tears of happiness and he hoped that she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm. ‘I want to fight with you, make up with you, laugh and cry with you. I’d personally prefer not to play games with you again...’ he paused as she laughed ‘...because I’d lose. Every time. But even then I’d still die a happy man.’

Sia looked up at him, complete trust and love in her eyes, and he was humbled by it. He took the small black velvet box from his back pocket and, getting to one knee, ignoring the way people around them had begun to stop and stare.

‘Will you, Artemisia Henrietta Keating, do me the greatest honour of being my wife?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, a happy tear sweeping down over her cheek.

Sebastian surged onto his feet, pulled her to him and kissed her with all the love he felt in his heart. It was only when the wolf whistles and cat calls intruded that he finally let her go.

‘I do have one condition, though,’ she said as he rounded the car to the driver’s seat.

‘Get in the car, Sia,’ he mock-growled. He was genuinely not looking forward to the day she realised that he’d give her whatever she wanted.

‘You don’t want to hear my condition?’ she said, her tone wicked and full of tease.

‘I want to get you home so that I can make love to you. You can tell me the condition later,’ he replied, loving the way her eyes widened and her pupils responded to his sensual promise.

‘It’s bad form to make agreements—’

He stopped her words with the first kiss of the many more they would share over the years. As Sebastian pulled away from Goodge Street, his future wife beside him and his past as a thief firmly behind him, he knew he’d stolen the most beautiful, most precious thing of all. Sia Keating’s heart.

EPILOGUE

‘MUMMY! MUMMY! MUMMY! Jacob is writing on the walls again,’ cried Maria’s youngest daughter, running into the garden where everyone was gathered.

‘It’s okay, my love. Auntie Sia has put special paper on the walls so that everyone can draw whatever and wherever they like there.’

Sia smiled at her sister-in-law’s daughter. ‘Would you like to have a go? Here,’ she said, reaching for a spare set of pencils and