Page 85 of Worth the Heat
I shrug. “I mean, you’re not totally wrong. We’re getting married. I figured you’d like to be in on the planning of it, though.”
“This is so surreal. We were just in a long shower. I’m shriveled up like a prune.”
I pull her into my embrace, my mouth millimeters from hers. “I didn’t ask a question because it’s not a question. It’s a fact. We are in love. We don’t want to spend a moment away from each other. We want to parent our daughter, and maybe have some more rugrats down the road. I didn’t ask because I know your heart,Naranja. I know that when we’re together, our heartbeats sync up. Half the time I know what you’re going to say before you say it, and you respond to me before I’ve even spoken a word. I can’t imagine a day when I don’t get to fall asleep with you in my arms, or a time where you don’t bring me peace just by being in the same room with me. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I want your last name to be the same as mine and Camila’s, and a giant ring on your finger so that no man thinks for a second that he can shoot his shot. Please, baby. Put me out of my misery and say yes.”
“You didn’t ask me a question,” she whispers, a sheen of tears making her eyes glassy.
I laugh quietly as I kneel on the bedroom floor. “My love, my sky, my queen. You’re my other half, and I will spend all of eternity cherishing you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” Isabella breathes, dropping to the floor beside me and throwing her arms over my shoulders. I grunt as the movement jars my balance, and we topple over. I make no effort to move, so I take the opportunity to memorize every detail of her face. The tiny gold nose ring she got around her twenty-fifth birthday that her parents absolutely hate. The chocolate brown eyes that sparkle more now than they ever have, like she’s finally living the life she never thought was possible. Her pert nose that scrunches up, usually in disgust, when she tastes a sweet treat that isn’t up to her standards. And her beautiful smile that is a balm to my soul, especially when it’s directed at me.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a ring yet,” I confess, swiping at the hair dangling in front of her face.
She waves a hand indifferently. “I don’t care about that. I rarely wear jewelry, and I’m not going to proudly show off a ring.”
“What?” I say, and I know I have a dejected look on my face. “Why?”
Isabella giggles. “I mean that it won’t be the first thing I tell people about our engagement. I’ll tell people about what you said. How you made me feel. A ring is wonderful, and I have no doubt you’ll pick out something beautiful and way too big, but what you think is so much more important than that.”
A smile breaks across my face. “So you’re saying I can still buy you a massive ring?”
She snorts as she shakes her head. “Can we settle on something adequate?”
I scoff. “No wife of mine will wear an adequate ring, Isabella.”
“How many wives are you planning to have?” She asks, teasingly.
I look at her adoringly as I slide a hand to the back of her neck. “Only you,mi amor.”
She pulls my head down to hers, and I take her lips in a searing kiss, hopefully pouring my love and devotion into her soul.
Isabella breaks off the kiss with a gasp. “But I can’t wear a diamond while at work!”
I frown. I never thought about that.
Shit. Her work. I guess now is as good of a time as any. “There’s something we need to discuss about your work,mi Reina.”
Her eyes darken almost imperceptibly. “If you’re about to say that I don’t need to work anymore because I’m marrying you —”
I interrupt her. “Oh, no. Not that. If you want to work, I wholeheartedly support that. But there is something about yourbakery you need to know, and I really hope you don’t get too mad about it.”
“I already forgave you about the MC order, Sebastian. I know you were just trying to support me.” She pauses, then her eyes widen. “SGI. You own my bakery?”
“I do. Well, I did.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her mind. “But you’ve owned it for as long as I’ve worked there! Even before I took over the lease!”
I nod. “I bought it around the time you started your apprenticeship. I intended to sell it to you, but it never seemed right. It wasn’t a way to get an ‘in’ with you,” I use air quotes, “but a way for me to support your dreams.”
“You’ve raised the rent every year,” she comments. “I’m paying a similar amount to all the other tenants on the block. Do you own all of them too?”
“No, just yours. I’ve kept the amount on par with everyone else. The week after I had you move in with me, I added your name to the deed. It’s yours, Isabella. Ours.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “What?”
I nod solemnly. “If you want my name off the deed, say the word. It can be yours outright.”
She shakes her head. “No. I want us both on there. Except for one minor thing …”
