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I take her hand in mine, gazing into her eyes. "My darling Tatiana, my songbird, from the moment I first saw you on that stage, I knew you were the one for me. I never imagined I could love someone as deeply as I love you. You are my heart, my soulmate, my entire world."
I pause, emotion welling up in my chest. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. I want us to build a family and grow old together."
Slowly, I slide off the bed and get down on one knee beside her. Her hands fly to her mouth, and tears glisten in her eyes.
"Tatiana, my love, will you give me the greatest joy by becoming my wife?"
I remove the ring from the box, the diamond glinting brilliantly. Tatiana stares at it, seemingly frozen. After a long moment, she drops her hands from her face, eyes brimming with tears.
"Oh Philippe, it's exquisite, but...it must have cost a fortune. Is it really okay for me to accept something so extravagant?" Her voice wavers with emotion.
I take her hands in mine. "Amore mio, nothing is too extravagant for you. This ring belonged to my mother, and it would mean so much to me to see it on your finger. Please say you'll be my wife, Tatiana."
Her eyes search mine for a long moment before a radiant smile spreads across her face. "Yes, my love! Of course, I'll marry you!"
My heart bursts with joy as I slide the ring onto her finger. I pull her into a passionate kiss, thinking how incredibly lucky I am.
I break off the kiss gently and gaze into Tatiana's eyes, my heart swelling with love and excitement.
"We have so much to plan, my darling fiancée," I say, unable to keep the grin off my face.
Tatiana beams, admiring the ring on her finger. "I can't believe we're engaged! I never imagined I could be this happy." She sits up, nearly toppling the tray and throws her arms around me in an exuberant embrace.
Chapter 40
Tatiana
I smooth my hands over the massive binder splayed open on the mahogany table. Swatches of ivory silk, pictures of blush pink roses, menus of truffle risotto and braised lamb, sketches of ice sculptures and chocolate fountains – all of these details await my decision.
My phone buzzes with emails from the florist, the band, and the wedding planner. I silence it, wholly immersed in planning the perfect engagement for Don Accardo.
Philippe strides into the room, impeccable as always, in a tailored navy suit. He comes up behind me, hands resting on my shoulders.
"You've been at this for hours, my love. Come, let's go shopping."
I glance back at the binder, hesitating. There is still so much to review. But Philippe turns my chin to meet his gaze.
"It will be here when we return.Voglio che tu indossi un vestito che faccia brillare la tua bellezza alla nostra festa," – I want you to have a dress that makes your beauty shine at our party.
"But Philippe," I protest. "You can't see me in my dress."
"I can't see you in your wedding dress, cara mia," he corrects me, gently massaging my neck. "But the engagement dress, I may."
I relent and take his hand, grateful for a short reprieve from all that demands my attention.
Half an hour later, Philippe ushers me into a hushed atelier, bolts of silk and chiffon draping the walls, exquisite gowns displayed on tailor’s dolls.
I gasp as a gown catches my eye - ivory silk chiffon with a plunging neckline and back beaded with crystals. I finger the delicate fabric, imagining myself swirling across the dance floor in Philippe's arms.
But when I check the tag, I falter. Too extravagant. As much as it pains me, I return the gown to the rack. Philippe searches my face, then pulls me close. "Try it," he insists.
"Philippe, I can't," I refuse. He's funding the whole reception, refusing to allow me to chip in for anything. What he doesn't know is that I tapped into my savings to get him a ring. A beautiful white gold band with diamonds encrusted along it, with Songbird engraved on the inside.
Apart from that, the whole expense is to his account and knowing that, I always keep the numbers in mind.
I turn away from the dress, but he calls the manager. "Put this dress in her dressing room," he insists, taking it off the shelf. "And anything else you see her glance at."
The manager nods, well aware of Philippe's deep pockets. He takes the gown from Philippe's hands and disappears into the back of the atelier. I watch him go, nervous already about this shopping expedition.
