Page 98 of His Sacrifice

“I don’t know whether to punch you or kiss you.” I nudge him, trying to hold the tears in my eyes.

“Marry me instead,” he says, and when I turn my head to look at him, I see that he’s being deadly serious.

“Raoul, we spoke about this.” I close my eyes and let the first tear spill.

“No, you spoke and I listened. I did what you asked me to do because I thought it made sense. But being apart from you has made me realize that nothing makes sense without you.” He spins me around and takes both my hands in his.

“Someone told me that a lifetime is too long to be unhappy, and despite everything, I know we won’t be happy unless we’re together. You were never my weakness, Evelyn, you’ve only ever been my strength. I got through my training in Sicily by thinking of you, you have been every happy memory I’ve ever possessed,” he tells me, his brows furrowing together.

“And because it is absolutely essential that I spend the rest of my life with you, I found the strength to stand up to my father. He’s stepped down, I run things now, and I need you beside me. I need you to keep seeing something good among all my faults, so I can make right on some of the wrongs that man did.

Marry me, and be my strength for the rest of my life.”

He drops to his knee and lifts a ring from his pocket, a beautiful sapphire ring, that I couldn't have chosen more perfectly myself.

“I want to,” I tell him. “More than anything I want to, Raoul, but—”

“Marry me,” he says the words again, only this time louder, and getting the attention of the whole room.

“Get up,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks turn to flames.

“I will not. Evelyn Lane, you’ve been bringing me to my knees since I was ten years old, and I refuse to get off this floor until you agree to be my wife.”

“Raoul, please.”

“Marry me,” he growls again, making it sound less and less like a request, and I can’t help the smile pull on my face.

“Is that an order, Mr. Burlusconi?” I beam back at him.

“It is absolutely a fucking order.” He slips the ring onto my finger and slides his body up against mine until our lips finally meet, and I hear the room around us erupt in applause.

“That was peer pressure in its lowest form,” I whisper against his lips.

“Well if it works.” He shrugs, taking the back of my head in his hand and forcing my lips onto his.

“I’m never going to sacrifice you again, not even if you beg me to. You belong to me, Mrs. Burlusconi… and I’ll never let you regret that.”

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