Chapter 21 #2
The vulnerability in his voice catches me off guard. This isn’t the commanding mafia don or the possessive lover—this is just a man admitting he’s afraid of losing something precious.
“Simeone—”
“I know I’ve handled things badly,” he continues, his voice gaining strength. “I know I’ve made decisions for you instead of with you. I know I’ve been so focused on protecting you that I nearly suffocated what makes you who you are. More than once.”
The acknowledgment hits harder than any demand or ultimatum could. “You’re apologizing?”
“I’m learning.” He sets down his wine glass and reaches across the table to take my hand. “You’ve taught me the difference between keeping something safe and keeping it alive.”
His thumb strokes across my knuckles, and the simple touch sends electricity shooting up my arm. “What are you asking me, Simeone?”
“I’m asking you to marry me.” The words come naked of pretense, dressed only in their own brutal certainty. “Not because I’m ordering it, not because circumstances demand it, but because I think I might love you.”
The declaration stops my heart for one perfect, crystalline moment before it explodes back to life with a rhythm that could power entire cities. “You love me?”
“I’ve never been in love before, so it’s hard to pinpoint the exact emotion, but I’m fairly certain this is it, stellina.
I think I am desperately, completely, and utterly in love.
In ways that probably aren’t entirely healthy.
” His smile is self-deprecating, beautiful.
“I love your intelligence, your courage, your refusal to be broken by anything life throws at you. I love the way you challenge me, the way you make me want to be better than I am.”
Tears prick at my eyes because this isn’t what I expected. I expected commands, ultimatums, careful manipulation disguised as choice. I didn’t expect raw honesty or genuine emotion or the sight of the Silver Devil stripped down to just a man in love.
“I love how you feel in my arms at night, even though you still argue with me every evening,” he continues, his voice dropping to that whisper that makes my toes curl. “I love that you’re carrying my child, that you’ve given me a future I never dared to imagine.”
“Simeone—”
“Somewhere along this crazy road, I’ve fallen in love with you, Loriana Parlato.” He stands slowly, moving around the table to kneel beside my chair. “And I’m asking—not demanding, asking—if you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Seeing him kneel—this man who commands everything—cracks me open like an egg. Every argument I’ve built, every wall I’ve raised, dissolves into nothing.
“Yes,” I whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Voluntarily.”
Relief floods his features so completely that I realize he genuinely wasn’t sure of my answer. This man who commands empires and ends lives with a word was terrified I might say no.
“Thank you,” he breathes, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I have something for you.”
The box surrenders its secret: a diamond carved like crystal tears, emerald-cut and attended by faithful companions. Platinum holds them all like a promise, turning candlelight into something that looks suspiciously like forever.
“It was my grandmother’s,” he says quietly, lifting the ring from its nest of silk. “She wore it for sixty years, through wars and famines and every kind of hardship imaginable. She told me once that it wasn’t the diamond that made it precious—it was the love it represented.”
His fingers cradle mine like something breakable as the ring claims my finger. The metal burns cold, then hot, marking me in ways that go deeper than skin. Perfect fit, perfect trap, perfect inevitability.
“Now you belong to me,” he says, but there’s no possession in his voice—only wonder. “And I belong to you. Completely.”
I stare at the ring, at the way it catches the light and throws rainbows across the white tablecloth. It’s beautiful and terrifying and absolutely perfect, just like the man who’s claimed my heart without me realizing it and kept it, despite every fiber in my being telling me to run.
“The wedding—”
“Can wait until you’re ready,” he says, rising to his feet. “The paperwork will be filed tomorrow for legal protection, so we will be married, but the ceremony and celebration can be whenever you want. Small and private or large and elaborate—your choice.”
The concession means more than he probably realizes. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for saying yes.” He cups my face with hands that shake slightly. “Thank you for choosing me despite knowing exactly what kind of monster you’re binding yourself to.”
“You’re not a monster,” I whisper, covering his hands with mine. “You’re complicated and dangerous and probably a little bit crazy, but you’re not a monster.”
“What am I then?”
I study his face in the candlelight, noting the way the flames dance across his sharp features, the silver threading through his dark hair, the heat burning in eyes that have seen too much violence and not enough love.
“You’re mine,” I say finally, and the possessive declaration feels right in a way nothing else has. “Just like I’m yours.”
His smile is brilliant, transforming his face from merely beautiful to absolutely devastating. “Yes, you are.”
He kisses me then, soft and gentle and full of promises I’m finally ready to believe. When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard, staring at each other like we can’t quite believe this is real.
“I should probably finish my dessert,” I say, though the last thing I want to do is sit down and pretend to eat when every cell in my body is humming with awareness.
“Should you?” His voice drops, making my toes curl. “Because I was thinking we might skip dessert tonight.”
“Were you?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it comes out breathless. “What did you have in mind instead?”
“I was thinking,” he says, backing me against the wall beside the windows, “that since you’ve agreed for the first time to be officially mine, it’s time I showed you exactly what that means.”
The promise in his voice makes my knees weak. “And what does it mean?”
“It means no more holding back.” His hands find my waist, pulling me against him until there’s no space left between us. “No more careful gentleness. No more treating you like you might break.”
“I won’t break,” I breathe, arching into his touch despite the warning bells going off in my head.
“No,” he agrees, his mouth finding the sensitive spot below my ear. “You won’t. But you will definitely lose your mind.”
The crude promise makes heat flood my cheeks. “Simeone—”
“You’ve been broken in now, stellina.” His teeth graze my throat, making me shiver with want. “Your body knows what to expect, how to accommodate me. Which means I can stop being quite so... considerate.”
The implication sends electricity shooting through my veins.
Our first time was gentle, careful, designed to ease me into the experience without causing pain.
Though our second time was a bit rougher, I can only wonder what he has in mind for our third time.
If he’s suggesting what I think he’s suggesting. ..
“How inconsiderate are we talking?” I ask, proud that my voice only shakes slightly.
“Very.” His smile is pure sin. “The kind that leaves marks. The kind that makes you scream my name until the entire estate knows exactly who you belong to.”
Fire races through my blood at the promise, and I find myself nodding before I can think better of it. “When?”
“I’ll give you one last concession of the night and allow you to finish your dessert,” he says, stepping back and leaving me cold without his warmth. “Then meet me in our bedroom in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” I stare at him incredulously. “What am I supposed to do with ten minutes?”
“Whatever you need to do to prepare yourself for the kind of night that will ruin you for any other man.” His eyes glitter with predatory satisfaction. “Because once I get my hands on you tonight, stellina, there won’t be any part of you that doesn’t belong to me.”
He walks away then, leaving me trembling against the wall with his grandmother’s engagement ring catching the candlelight and promises of debasement echoing in my ears.
Ten minutes to finish dessert and compose myself for whatever devastation he has planned.
Ten minutes to decide whether I’m brave enough to surrender completely to the silver devil who’s claimed my heart.
I look down at the chocolate soufflé waiting on the table, then at the ring adorning my finger, then toward the doorway where my future husband disappeared with promises of possession that make my entire body hum with anticipation.
Ten minutes.
The possibilities of what he might do to me in our bedroom make my hands shake as I lift the spoon, and I realize with crystalline clarity that these might be the longest ten minutes of my life.