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"The contractor has family that works for the Hades Brotherhood in California." Atlas takes the ring from the box and holds it between his thumb and forefinger, the diamond glittering under the light from the dining room chandelier. "So, you'll marry me."
I step back and look up into his face. "That wasn't a question."
His blue eyes narrow. "The nonvoluntary trip to Vegas is still an option."
"No. It isn't. Ask me, Atlas. You already know I love you."
Heat flares in his gaze and then he kisses me breathless. He never ignores when I say I love him. He treats the words as a gift every single time.
When I'm boneless against him, he says, "Marry me, Lucia. Be the light in my darkness for the rest of our lives."
"Yes," I sigh against his lips. "And you didn't have to kiss me into submission to get a yes out of me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
"Even though it means being part of a mafia again?"
"A mafia that is as much family as business. A mafia where I have a voice and a place." I smile. "Yes. Besides, I don't think I ever really left the mafia behind."
"That's good to hear." There's a quality to his tone that has me stepping back.
I scan his features. "What did you do?"
"Elaine said you were sad about losing your grandmother's pasta press. You had to leave it behind when you ran from Detroit."
"Technically, I ran from the Revello family cabin, but yes."
"You never told me that story."
"You don't like me talking about being married before."
He grunts.
"What does my grandmother's pasta press have to do with that look on your face?" And then it hits me. "You contacted my family to get it for me, but how did you know it wasn't at my house when it got blown up?"
"I contacted your mother to ask for help getting one like it to replace the one that got blown up, only to learn that you'd never taken it from your childhood home."
"There was already a pasta press in the kitchen when I moved into the Revello home." And Agustino Sr. said I didn't need to use an old relic when I had a brand new pasta press at my disposal.
For as hidebound to tradition as he was, he placed very little value on items passed from one generation to the next.
"You talked tomamma." Dazed, I stare up at him. "Did you talk to my father too?" What about Rocco? Do they all hate me for letting them believe I'm dead?
"You said you didn't want to withhold our baby from your family."
Yes, I said that, one night while he held me after we made love.
"It should have been my choice about when to contact them." If ever.
"They're flying in tomorrow."
"What?"
He winces. "You don't need to screech."
"I'm not screeching, I'm exercising my need to punch you with my voice."
"I'd rather take the hit."
"I would rather you had let me contact my family in my own time."
