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“No. She didn’t.”
“Not until you.”
“But—”
I kiss her and don’t stop kissing her until she softens and melts into me. I don’t care what it takes. I’m going to convince her I mean this. That I need her, and this is real.
Her eyes are hazy by the time I let her up for air. “This is real,” I whisper, stroking her hair, her face, her throat before kissing the tip of her nose. “I mean it. I’m all yours if you want me.”
She gasps softly, searching my face like she’s looking for the truth. Is she afraid to believe me? I hate that she has any reason to doubt what I mean with all my heart.
“Well?” I ask after her silence becomes too much to bear. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.”
“But I need to hear it from you. I don’t want you to say it because you feel like you have to,” I insist. “I want the truth.”
“I want you. I want this, what we have right now. I do. I just can’t imagine why you would want me. I’m nobody.”
“You are everything. And if you ever point me in the direction of whoever it was who convinced you otherwise, I’ll kill them.”
“I’m not even going to act like I think you’re kidding.”
“Good. Why waste time pretending?”
The sharp little laugh that bursts from her mouth gives me hope. She looks surprised at her reaction, and this time, I have to laugh. She wants to give in. I feel it. She even looks regretful and certainly sounds that way when she replies, “You could have anybody in the whole world. You’re handsome, you have money, you’re smart. And you have a beautiful little girl who any woman would fall in love with. What do I have that makes me special enough for you?”
“It has nothing to do with special enough. You’re already special, and you were before we met. I want to take care of you. I want to make sure you never have to worry about another thing as long as you live.”
She bites her lip, still fighting her lingering doubts.
I think I know how to solve this. “Give me a second.” I unwind my arms from around her body and get out of bed, heading straight for the safe in my closet. She wants proof? I’ll give her proof.
“What are you doing?” she asks when I turn on the lamp on the nightstand, then sit beside her on the bed.
“I’m showing you how serious I am.” I hold out the sapphire blue velvet box. “Take a look.”
Her hands are shaking, and the box shakes with them. “Matteo…”
“I like that,” I tell her with a smile. “I want you to say my name all the time. Say it again.”
“Matteo,” she whispers, still staring at the box.
“It’s not going to bite.” When she doesn’t open it, I do, watching her reaction when she takes her first look at the four-carat diamond set in platinum. It sparkles almost blindingly, and I can see the reflection of those sparkles in her wide eyes.
“Oh, my god,” she says on a breath.
“It belonged to my mother,” I explain as I take the ring from its velvet cushion. “But now it belongs to you. If you want it.”
“What are you saying?”
Why bother with words when actions speak louder? I take hold of her left hand and slide the ring over her finger. It’s a perfect fit. The way she is a perfect fit for me. “I’m saying I want you to be my wife.”
“You’re… sure?”
The fact that she is not repulsed by the idea floods my system with relief. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you to be mine, now and always. Will you? Will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to be my wife?”
She doesn’t stare down at the ring but instead throws her arms around my neck confirms I’ve made the right choice. “Yes. Yes, yes, that’s what I want. I want to be your wife.”
