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I just laughed. Finally.
Fucking finally!
Tuesday, September 30th
Chicago, Illinois
When I stepped inside, he was dressed casually in all white, lighting a candle in the center of the room. There were dozens of small candles.
“You’re early.”
I glanced around at the pink, red, and white roses all over the room. The candles in the shape of a heart on the marble floor with red roses inside it, there was even a path leading to it but it was made of white rose petals. There were wine, champagne, and deserts on the dining table set for two towards the side of the large room. On the ceiling there were lights and hanging from them all were postcards. I reached up to touch one and realized nothing was on it but a date. All of them were like that…I knew the dates. They were the dates and places we’d met up over the years.
“Apparently it’s customary to put photos of us up but we…”
“Never took photos,” I finished his sentence, looking at the next postcard. “You recorded every time we met?”
“Yes, well someone rarely called so I had to keep myself from going insane somehow,” he muttered, patiently waiting in his heart as I looked at everything else but him.
“All of this is very romantic,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder at him. “Are you going to sing me a song too?”
“If you’d like.” His eyes looked over the tight dress I wore. “It seems that despite my best efforts, you knew this was coming.”
“I truly did not.” I picked up one of the roses. “I just felt like looking nice, and maybe I want to seduce you a bit tonight.”
“You succeeded.” His voice was barely above whisper as I smelled the rose.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I told him as I stepped on to the rose petal path.
“Yes, I did. I’ve listened to you say ‘your family’ or ‘you Callahans’ for long enough. This is your family, you are Callahan, now come here so I can give your prize,” he demanded.
I glared, but it was rendered useless by the grin on my face. My butterfly heels clicked softly over the roses as I walked towards. “I’m only listening because I’m expecting you to get on your knees.”
“Knee,” he corrected, pulling out a dark velvet box. “I’m not bowing, I’m proposing.”
“Same thing, isn’t it?” I joked, and he shook his head, getting down on one knee. Before he could open the box, I warned him, “This better be one hell of a ring—”
He opened the box and grinned knowing it was in fact one hell of a ring. It was well over 30 carats. The diamond was bright red and in the shape of a tear drop, with smaller white diamonds surrounding it. It was set in gold and was by far the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen.
“My mother stole this diamond from Alexei Rozhkov when she was only eighteen. Red diamonds are the rarest in the world, one of this size is even rarer. No one even believed Rozhkov when he said it had it. He was petrified to show it to anyone. It was worth 14 million then, and that value has doubled by now. It’s the largest red diamond in history. My mother showed it to me a year before she faked her death and I asked her why she never wore it. She said at first, it was because everyone was looking for it and it drew unwanted attention. Then as people forgot about it, she never wore it because she loved the ring my father gave her. And then finally she decided she was going to leave it to her daughter.”
“Yet you’re giving it to me.” It wasn’t a question because now that I saw it, it was mine.
“She simply said daughter. That includes daughter-in-law as well, doesn’t it? She gave her own daughter a damn country. The least she could do for the love of her son’s life is to allow me to give her this ring.” He lifted the ring from the box and took my hand. “Calliope Seraphina Orsini, will you allow me to…. put this bloody ring on your finger so I can get up off my goddamn knees? I was shot recently—”
I snatched my hand back, crossing my arms “Try again.”
He laughed and smiling at me he nodded. “Calliope Seraphina Orsini, it’s been almost twenty years, but yes, I accept your proposal. I will marry you.”
He pulled my hand back to him and slid the ring on I glared at him, ready to…ugh. Damn it! He was right; I was the one who proposed, well demanded we get married first, as kids.
“Would it kill you to be a bit more romantic?” I muttered when he got off the floor.
He shook his head and pointed around the room. “Did this look easy to set up? I’m all romanced out at the moment.”
“Is that so? Excuse me if I don’t kiss you then—”
He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist and placing his hands on my ass. “That I cannot excuse, Mrs. Calliope Callahan.”
