“Hold on,” I say, grasping Emily’s hand again. “I have something for you as well.”
She glances at me over her shoulder. “You do?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the small box—the one that has been driving me crazy with indecision for days—and hand it to her.
It’s not wrapped because I was in two minds about even giving it to her.
Her pretty blue eyes widen the second she flips the lid. “You brought me a ring?”
“Yes,” I answer, rubbing my flattened palms down the front of my jeans.
“Is this …”
Her words drift off, but I know where she’s going with that question. “It’s whatever you want it to be,mia tortina. It can be a simple diamond ring or something more … the choice is yours. I don’t want to rush or pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, but Lil’ Peach and I really want to keep you, don’t we, baby girl?”
“Yes,” Lil’ Peach shrieks as she jumps up and down and claps her hands.
My eyes flicker back to Emily, and my stomach churns as I await her answer.
She plucks the four carat oval diamond ring from its satin cushion and slides it onto her finger. I hold my breath as she looks down at the sparkling stone and says, “I choose the latter.”
It takes a moment for her words to compute as my mind scrambles to remember which one was the last option. As soon as it does, I spring to my feet. “You want to marry me?”
“You need to ask the question if you want to know the answer.”
“I think I just did.” Her eyes dart from my face to my knees. “You’re going to make me get down on one knee, aren’t you?”
“Well, it is tradition.”
I exhale through my nose, shaking my head. “Bloody tradition,” I mutter under my breath, but I’m already grinning as I drop down anyway. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this woman mine. “Will you marry me, cupcake?”
“Yes, marry us, Emmy,” Peach shouts.
“I’d marry you both right this second if it were possible.”
And just like that, my day, my year, and my whole fucking life is made.
Chapter 45
Dominic
It’s mid-afternoon, and I’m parked up on the side of the road, waiting for my next job to walk out of the seedy brothel he’s currently hiding in.
It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’ve been sitting here for two fucking hours, so my patience is running thin.
We’re heading to the boss’s house tonight for a party, so the longer he takes, the more punishment I’m going to need to dish out. Anything to quell the rage that’s currently bubbling inside me because I want to be home with my girls.
Another ten minutes pass, and my nostrils flare as I exhale a frustrated breath. This cunt is fatter than my damn cat, and would be a two-pump chump at best. So he’s either fallen asleep, or he flatlined mid thrust, and they’re waiting for a crane to lift his obese arse off the poor prostitute beneath him.
When my doorbell app chimes with a movement notification, I swipe my phone off the dashboard and tap it open.
I’m expecting to see my fiancée doing something ordinary like checking the mailbox, and I’m not about to miss achance to see her. She may be my future wife, but my obsession with her is still very much alive.
I click on the live view of my front yard and sit up straighter in my seat when I see a goth-looking woman in all black, with tattoos running up her arms and neck, walking up my front steps.
I go to switch on the microphone to ask her who the fuck she is and what she’s doing on my doorstep, just as I hear the front door open and Emily gasp, “D-Daisy.”
My eyes narrow as soon as Emily says her name. She knows this woman?
