Makenna's POV.

The morning sun kissed the Parisian streets, casting a golden glow that danced off the cobblestones. I sat in the back of the sleek, black car, my fingers lightly tracing the outline of the diamond ring now adorning my left hand. The previous night's events replayed in my mind like a favorite movie, each scene more vivid than the last.

Wolfe's proposal at Le Train Bleu had been perfect, surreal even. The look in his eyes, the feel of his hand trembling slightly as ...