Page 157 of The Underboss's Secret Twins
The world is quiet. For the first time in what feels like forever.
A soft sun shines over the horizon, casting its golden glow over the wreckage. The Lombardi villa stands broken behind us, a hollow ruin of what was once an empire. Smoke lingers in the air, thick with the scent of gunpowder and scorched wood, but the fight is over. The war is over.
And yet, my body still hums with the remnants of adrenaline, my muscles coiled too tight, my breath uneven. I don’t know how to be still.
But Marco does.
His arms wrap around me, solid, grounding, unshakable. He doesn’t say anything at first—just holds me there, amidst the chaos and the silence, his heart beating steadily against my back.
I exhale, letting my weight sink into him, letting myself believe, even if just for a second, that we made it. That we survived.
"You saved us," he murmurs against my hair.
I shake my head. "You saved me first."
He turns me toward him, tilting my chin up with the rough press of his fingers. His dark eyes sweep over my face, unreadable but heavy, as if searching for something, as if memorizing me all over again.
Then, softer than I expect, he says, "I don’t want to do this without you."
My chest tightens, something delicate cracking open inside me.
There’s too much between us—too much history, too much fire, too much war—but this moment? This is ours. Just us.
His thumb brushes over my cheek. "Say something."
I swallow, feeling the ache in my throat, the exhaustion pressing down on my limbs. But beneath it all, there’s something else. Something steady.
I grip the lapels of his jacket, holding him there, as if I’m afraid the world will shift again, as if I’ll wake up and find this was all just another cruel trick of fate.
"I don’t want to do this without you either."
Marco exhales, long and slow. And then he kisses me.
Not like before—not urgent, not desperate, not fueled by the fear of losing me. This kiss is different. This is a promise. A beginning.
I don’t realize people are watching until the sound of approaching footsteps forces us apart.
I blink, still breathless, as one of Marco’s men steps forward, holding a small, ornate box and a bouquet of crimson roses.
I freeze.
Marco doesn’t.
He takes the box without a word, his fingers brushing over the velvet as if testing its weight. Then—before I can fully process what’s happening—he lowers himself to one knee.
The breath punches out of me.
"Marco—"
"I know this isn’t how I planned it." His voice is rough, but certain. "And I know I haven’t given you an easy time of it, but I love you, Sofia. I love you in ways I don’t know how to explain, in ways that make me selfish and reckless and desperate to keep you safe, no matter the cost."
I press a hand to my mouth. My heart is a riot in my chest.
"I don’t want to waste another second," he says, flipping the box open to reveal the most breathtaking ring I’ve ever seen—adeep red ruby, set in gold, dark as blood and fire. "I want you, I want our family, I want a life where you never feel like you have to run from me again."
The words lodge in my throat.
Marco watches me, unwavering. Unbreakable.
