Page 117 of The Mafia's Fake Wife

The restaurant has been transformed. White roses fill crystal vases on every surface. Candles flicker, making dancing shadows cross the walls. A string quartet plays softly in the corner.

“Damir,” she whispers, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. “What is all this?”

“Sit,” I say, my voice softer than usual. “Please.”

She does, still watching me with curious eyes. The waiter appears, pouring sparkling cider for Elena and vodka for me.When he leaves, Elena leans forward. “You’re making me nervous,” she says. “Is everything okay? Is it the baby?”

“Everything is fine.” I reach across the table, taking her hand. Her skin is soft against mine, her fingers delicate compared to my scarred knuckles. “Better than fine.”

“Then what?—”

“Do you remember the day we met?” I interrupt. “In the hospital cafeteria?”

She smiles, the memory softening her expression. “You spilled coffee on me.”

“On purpose.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“I saw you from across the room, and I needed an excuse to talk to you, so I got in line behind you, and…”

“You’re telling me you deliberately ruined my scrubs?”

I shrug, unapologetic. “It worked, didn’t it?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I knew from that moment,” I say, tracing circles on her palm. “Something about you was different.”

“Different how?”

“You weren’t afraid of me.” It’s still remarkable to me, even now. “Everyone is afraid of me, Elena, except you.”

She squeezes my hand. “That’s not true. I was terrified of you.”

“No. You were cautious. There’s a difference.”

The waiter returns with our first course. She releases my hand, picking up her fork. We eat in comfortable silence, the quartet playing softly in the background. Between courses, I watch her, unable to look away.

By the time dessert arrives, I’m ready. I stand, pulling a small velvet box from my pocket. Elena’s fork clatters against her plate.

I don’t kneel. Don’t need to. I just hold out the box, my voice raw, unguarded. “Marry me. No contracts. No games. For real this time.”

Elena stares at me, her eyes soft. “You’re not asking.”

My smirk is slow, knowing. “No, I’m not.”

She takes the ring and slips it on. Then she launches herself into my arms.

I catch her, holding her against me. Her body fits perfectly against mine, her face buried in my neck. I breathe in the scent of her.

“I already have a ring,” she murmurs against my skin.

“That was for show,” I say, pulling back to look at her. “This one is real.”

She examines the ring composed of a large oval diamond surrounded by smaller emeralds that match her necklace. “It’s beautiful.”

“You deserve better than how we started, a marriage based on lies and necessity.”

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