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“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too.”
“Good, because…” Roman picks me up, and settles us on the floor, on our knees. He reaches into his trousers pocket and pulls out a small square box.
My heart flutters with anticipation.
“Sophia, will you marry me?”
The ring nestled in the jewelry box is my old engagement ring. The beautiful diamond fromMaçon. I can’t tear my gaze away from it.
“If it holds too many bad memories, I’ll have a new one made for you,” Roman says, his voice hesitant, gaze searching my expression.
“I’m so sorry I threw this at you.” Tears well in my eyes at the memory. “I’m sorry that I let Nik’s twisted version of the truth ruin what we had.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He wraps me in his arms, holding me close. “If I’d told you the truth, his words wouldn’t have held any power over us. If I’d told you how much I love you, you never would have doubted my intentions. That’s all on me, principessa, not you.”
“Dammit,” he curses under his breath. “I knew I should have had a new ring made for you.”
“No.” I pull away. “No, this one’s perfect.”
He peers into my face. “Is that a…yes?”
“Yes.” I smile.
He beams, and quickly slips the ring on my finger, as if he’s afraid I’ll change my mind. There’s no chance in hell of that happening. I want this. I want us.
He holds my hand in his. “With this ring I vow to love you every day, to have no secrets between us, and to give you my body, heart, and soul. All of me is yours. Forever.”
“Are we not negotiating this time?” I tease, the butterflies in my stomach going wild.
“This isn’t a business deal, principessa. I want to marry you because I love you.”
“And I want to marry you because I love you, too, Roman. With all my heart. I’m yours.”
“Damn right, you’remine,” he growls.
We seal our future with a soulful kiss. The kind of kiss that’s all-consuming, full of hope and promises. A silent vow shared between us.
Epilogue
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” As our wedding concludes, the crowd applauds.
Roman dips me, his nose hovering mere centimeters from mine.
“Mrs. De Luca,” he growls the words, before claiming my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back until our tongues tangle and the cheers morph into whistles and cat-calls. Only then does he set me upright on my feet again.
The smile straining my cheeks is almost painful, but I bear it. On the Mediterranean coast, shaded from a beaming June sun, we’ve tied the knot. For real this time. I’m officially Sophia De Luca. And Roman is mine.
We walk into the sea of people who witnessed our vows. It’s all friends and family this time. My parents are here with my sisters and cousins, as well as Roman’s mother. Blake Baron had the honor of being the best man for a second time. Given the deep scowl on his face, I don’t think he sees it as a privilege.
No matter. At least my sisters and cousins were happy to be bridesmaids again, with new dresses, of course. And a destination wedding? Few can say no to that.
The rest of our gathering includes extended family from Italy, and the cluster of women who we refer to as theaunties—widowed or older unwed women who belong to the Pontrelli clan. Or as I like to call them… gossips and troublemakers.
We walk by them, when one of the cackles. “We knew you two would end up together.”
Uh-huh. I bet they did.
