Page 61 of Captive Mafia Wife

“Oui. I like to know you’re safe.”

“I will marry first, then have children, and then return to law.”

“And does your partner get any say in the matter?” I ask, thinking of my upbringing. I do not want the same for my children.

She grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Her voice softens. “I understand your pain. I promise I do. What happened to you should never happen to a child. Of course, it would make you want your wee ones to have their mother at their beck and call. But children can have love, support, and all those wonderful things and still have two working parents.”

What she says next fills me with hope.

She gives a shy smile, one I’ve not seen on her pretty face before. “We’d have Fiona and Morven and the staff to help us. Hopefully, everything will be cleared by then, and friends and family will surround us.”

She. Said. We.

We. Us. Her and I.

“You said we.” I grin. “You were talking about us.”

“Of course! We’re engaged.” She holds up a hand, letting her diamond ring glitter in the sun.

Her matter-of-fact answer brings me more joy. “It’s just that you don’t typically speak that way, directly about us.”

“Do I not?” Her brow furrows as she thinks. “It’s been a confusing journey. You’ve given me time and patience. I accepted your ring. I should talk in terms of us, and we. Oui?”

Once, I thought I’d drag her down the aisle. Force her to marry me. I had it all wrong.

I agree happily, a breath of relief filling my lungs. “Oui.”

“I apologize if I hurt you.” She gives my hand a second squeeze. “And I thank you for your patience.” She pulls us toa stop on the sidewalk, guards coming to a stop in the corner of my eyes, hovering around us, on the lookout for trouble. Putting her hands on my chest, she gazes up at me. “I will marry you soon, Fredrick Frisque. When the time is right.”

Other than her accepting my ring, this is the first confirmation the wedding is coming in my lifetime. My chest wells with hope for our bright future together. I need to lock this down. “When will that be?”

“When things are back to normal, and I can have my family there as witnesses,” she says, tears in her eyes.

Of course, she wants a dream wedding, with friends and family overflowing at the ceremony. Me? I’d be happy with only the two of us present, Joyeux as ring bearer.

I kiss her cheek. “I understand.”

Satisfied with our breakthrough, I let the conversation lie there, knowing she’s been pushed enough for one day. I let her calm her emotions so we can enjoy this day.

The sun shines on our faces. Not knowing if she’d packed sunglasses in our haste to leave, I grabbed her favorite pair from where they sat on the table in the foyer. I slip her cat-eyed Chanel’s from the inside pocket of my suit jacket. “Grabbed these for you on the way out the door.” I hand them to her.

“Och! You have thought of everything!” She dons the sunglasses, looking adorable in them. “Thank you.”

I slide on my own Ray Bans, enjoying the walk and the architecture. I spot my security in their six-point formation around us, but as she suggested, having some space to be a part of the crowd is pleasant.

I try to live in the moment, to let this be enough, but one discrepancy between our thinking tugs at the back of my mind, prickly and uncomfortable. I take a risk, hoping not to ruin our day, but I know I can’t focus until I clear this up.

“I do think the woman should stay home with the children.”

She waits a beat, then pauses her steps, lifting her glasses to meet my eye. Her lashes flutter. “Have you ever thought about staying home with the children? Plenty of fathers make terrific stay-at-home dads.” Point made, she snaps her glasses back down.

“Ma chérie! I’m a man.”

“Trust me,” she says, eyeing my crotch. “I’m well aware.”

“My job is to provide for my family. Protect my family. Guide my children. Support my wife.”

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