Page 127 of Savage Union
"Why would you still want me?" The vulnerability in her question strips away the last of my reservations.
"Because you are the strongest, most loyal, most fascinating woman I have ever encountered," I answer, the truth surprisingly easy now that I've begun. "Because despite everything I've done, everything that's happened between us, you still chose to save my life today. Because when I imagine my future as Don Rosso, the only woman I can see standing beside me as Donna is you."
Tears fill her eyes, but she doesn't look away. "I never thought I'd hear those words from you."
"Nor did I expect to say them." The admission comes with a rueful honesty that feels strangely freeing. "I've spent my life avoiding vulnerability, Caterina. Building walls, maintaining control, never allowing anyone close enough to matter. Until you."
"And now?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Now I'm on my knee, asking—not ordering, not demanding, but asking—if you will be my wife. My true wife, my partner, my Donna."
"If I say no?"
"Then you and your family will be provided for, protected, set up wherever you choose to go." The contingency plan costs me something to voice, but she deserves the honest choice. "No repercussions, no pursuit."
A small, incredulous laugh escapes her. "You would let me go? Just like that?"
"Not 'just like that,'" I correct her. "It would be the hardest thing I've ever done. But I won't force you to stay in a marriageyou don't want, now that political necessity no longer demands it."
Silence stretches between us, her expression shifting through a kaleidoscope of emotions too rapid to track. When she finally speaks, her voice is steadier than I expected.
"I don't know if I love you," she says with characteristic directness. "I don't know if I can, after how we began. But I do know that when I saw that gun aimed at you, my whole world narrowed to one thought: Not him. Not Vito."
The admission—raw, unpolished, honest—affects me more than any practiced declaration might have. "That's more than I deserve, and more than I expected."
"If I say yes," she continues, "it has to be different. No more lies between us, no more treating me like property. I need to be your partner, not your possession."
"Agreed," I respond without hesitation. "Though I can't promise I won't be protective, controlling at times. It's in my nature, as defiance is in yours."
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "I wouldn't recognize you otherwise."
"Is that a yes, Caterina?" I hold my breath, awaiting her answer with more tension than I've felt facing down armed enemies.
She takes a deep breath, then nods slowly. "Yes, Vito. I'll marry you. Not because I have to, but because I'm choosing to."
The relief that floods through me is so profound it's almost dizzying. I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Then let's do this properly. A small ceremony, just family. Tonight."
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. "Tonight? I'm still wearing a bloodstained wedding dress."
"We'll find you something else," I assure her, rising to my feet. "Something not associated with today's chaos."
She looks down at the ruined gown, then back at me with unexpected vulnerability. "I should probably shower first. I've been crying for hours."
The simple admission, so human and unguarded, does something to my chest I can't quite name. I reach down, helping her to her feet with gentle care I rarely show. "Take your time. I'll make the arrangements."
As she moves toward the bathroom, she pauses, turning back with a question in her eyes. "Vito? Why me? Really? There are women who would kill to be Donna Rosso, women without complicated histories with the Irish. Why choose the one who brings you nothing but trouble?"
The question deserves my most honest answer. "Because those women want the title, the power, the status. They don't want me. You've never wanted any of it—yet you saved me anyway." I step closer, cupping her face with a tenderness foreign to my usual touch. "And because I've never met anyone else strong enough to stand beside me as an equal, not just a decorative accessory."
Her eyes search mine for a long moment before she nods, accepting the truth in my words. "I'll need twenty minutes."
"Take thirty," I say, releasing her. "We have time."
As she disappears into the bathroom, I allow myself a moment to absorb what's just happened. I, Vittore Rosso, Don ofLa Famiglia, have just proposed marriage—real marriage—to the woman who once arranged with my enemies to have her father killed. The woman who pushed me out of the path of a bullet. The woman who challenges everything I thought I knew about control and possession.
And remarkably, impossibly, she said yes.
CHAPTER 42
