Page 65 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

I wasn’t about to give him more reasons to doubt me. I didn’t flinch. There was no point in lying to him. Not when I was aware he tracked my phone for security reasons.

I straightened my back, met his gaze, and answered simply, “I was talking to Marco. I asked about my papa and the situation with Rossi. He said the alliance ended badly. And Luca is dead. My papa shot him.”

He visibly relaxed and shrugged. “Was bound to happen, wasn’t it?”

I looked again and noticed that Rafayel was unnaturally calm. He was always calm, but this one had something more to it. The air he carried was unbothered, and he didn’t seem to care.

“You had something to do with it, didn’t you?” That was the only explanation I had.

“Maybe.” He shrugged again.

“Rafa.”

His eyes flashed with that familiar heat, and I suppressed a grin. I knew I would get my answer if I called him that. It always disarmed him.

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the blue-gold vintage dresser he installed in the room for me. “What do you honestly think?”

“I think you had a huge hand in what happened with Luca.”

“Smart. And correct. But I only set the ball rolling by investigating and showing proof to your father about his existing marriage. Enzo pulling the trigger was his own doing.”

“Sure, I believe that.”

“Do you want to meet your father?” he asked, the question so direct, and I blinked, taken aback by the suddenness of it.

The idea of meeting him, of facing the man who betrayed me, stirred a mixture of curiosity, fear, and maybe even a bit of hope because he ended the alliance. But I didn’t hesitate for long.

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“I’m not going to force you.” Rafayel’s lips curved into a small smile. “But I’m going to ask you to marry me. There’s a disclaimer, though. You don’t necessarily have a choice.”

What?

“What?” I blurted, and it was a miracle I hadn’t fallen off the bed.

How could he pop such a question so casually? Was he fricken’ serious?

“What?” Did I ask that before? Yes? I wasn’t sure I’d asked it enough then. This was a dream, wasn’t it? I was going to wake up, pinch myself, and it’ll all be over before I knew it.

He was laughing now, like he wasn’t the same man I reunited with months ago that had a knife to my throat. Like he wasn’t the same man who squeezed the air out of my lungsagainst that tree with murderous eyes. Like he wasn’t the throat-ripping bloodthirstyZverwe all knew him to be.

I stared as he slowly pulled out the ring, the diamonds sparkling under the soft light. Each one caught the light, sending little glimmers dancing across my vision. It was mesmerizing.

My heart hammered in my chest, uncertain yet surprisingly strangely calm. He held it out to me, his gaze steady.

“You’re my family now.” His voice was deep and sure. “You’re mine. And I want to make it official. It’s…right that I do so.”

I froze, my breath catching. This wasn’t how I imagined it happening. I had never pictured a marriage proposal like this, not in a million years. But somehow, it felt right. The shock settled into something unexpected yet entirely welcome.

I blinked, still trying to absorb his words, but there was no mistaking the certainty in them.

His words didn’t sound like the typical promises of love, and I knew he wasn’t offering me just a ring. It was a place in his life and his in mine.

The weight of it hit me, and for a moment, I felt an overwhelming rush of relief. This was good, right?

It wasn’t what I expected, but it was…good.

“I—” Just as I was about to say something, anything, I caught a faint sound—a melody from somewhere beyond the window, drifting in like it had always belonged there.

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