Page 442 of Rosetti Family New York
The meal is decadent but relaxed, conversation flowing around the table like water. Stories from Emilio and Mara's honeymoon, gentle teasing about Leo's recovery, plans for upcoming family events. Isabella contributes easily, her sharp wit and gentle humor fitting seamlessly into the family dynamic.
"So Emilio," Rafe says, cutting into his eggs Benedict, "did you actually relax in Italy, or did you spend the whole time setting up surveillance networks?"
"Both," Emilio answers without missing a beat, earning laughter from the table.
"He tried to hack the hotel's security system on our second day," Mara adds with fond exasperation. "I had to hide his laptop."
"The security was pathetic," Emilio defends. "Someone could have walked right into our room."
"Someone did," Mara says sweetly. "Me. Every night."
Even Dom cracks a smile at that. Isabella catches my eye and grins, clearly charmed by the easy banter.
I watch her laugh at one of Rafe's terrible jokes, see her listen intently as Dom discusses the museum's latest acquisition, notice how she automatically passes the bread basket to Leo before he even asks. She's not performing anymore. She's just... here. Present. Home.
The realization hits me with quiet certainty. This is forever. Not the desperate possessiveness that drove me to kidnap her, not the obsessive need to own her, but this. Deep, steady love that doesn't demand or take but simply exists, as natural as breathing.
"You're staring," she murmurs, catching my gaze.
"Can't help it," I reply honestly. "You're beautiful."
She blushes, actually blushes, and my chest tightens with tenderness. After everything we've been through, she can still be shy about a simple compliment. It's devastating.
The conversation dies down as plates are cleared and coffee is refilled. I flip my silver coin once, twice, then catch it with a grin. The familiar weight feels different now. Lucky, but not because I need luck anymore. Because I've already won everything that matters.
"Actually," I say, standing up and pocketing the coin, "there's something Isabella and I wanted to tell everyone."
The table goes quiet, all eyes turning toward us. Isabella looks up at me with curiosity, eyebrows raised in question. She doesn't know what I'm about to do, but she trusts me. That trust still amazes me.
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the small velvet box I picked up during those three days she was at her apartment, thinking. The ring inside isn't some flashy statement piece. It's a perfect emerald surrounded by diamonds, classic and elegant, just like her. I bought it because I knew she'd come back to me. Knew she'd say yes. Some things you just know.
"Isabella Callahan," I say, dropping to one knee beside her chair as the table erupts in surprised gasps and delighted laughter. "Will you marry me? Properly this time, with a ring and witnesses and everything?"
Her hands fly to her mouth, emerald eyes wide with shock and joy. "Matteo, you already asked me last night," she says through her fingers.
"I know," I grin, opening the box to reveal the ring. "But I was inside you at the time, and I didn't have proper equipment. Figured you deserved better than a sex-drunk proposal."
"Oh my God," Carmela squeals, bouncing in her seat. "Say yes!"
"The man's already on his knees," Rafe adds helpfully. "That's progress."
Isabella laughs, tears streaming down her cheeks as she extends her left hand. "Yes," she says simply. "Always yes."
The ring slides on perfectly, catching the morning light as I stand and pull her into my arms. The table explodes in cheers and applause, Carmela literally bouncing in her seat as she claps.
"I knew it!" she shrieks, abandoning all Rosetti dignity. "I fucking knew it! When you asked me to help pick out her outfit yesterday, you had that look."
"Language, Carmela," Dom says mildly, but he's smiling.
"Oh, bite me, Domenico. My brother just got engaged!" She's already out of her chair, pulling Isabella away from me for another hug. "We have so much planning to do. The venue, the dress, the flowers—"
"Breathe, princess," I laugh, but I'm touched by her excitement.
Dom stands, raising his coffee cup with ceremonial gravity. "To the future Mrs. Rosetti," he says, and the formal acknowledgment carries weight. This isn't just a celebration. It's acceptance into the family legacy.
"Welcome to the chaos," Besiana adds with elegant amusement.
Emilio approaches, clasping my shoulder with quiet approval. "She's good for you," he says simply, but coming from my twin, it means everything.
