Page 107 of Mafia Kingdom

Marco's lips curve upward. "Checking up on something far more valuable than that," he murmurs, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss against my lips.

"I'm disgusting right now," I protest half-heartedly. "All kitchen sweat and fish scales."

"You're perfect." His thumb traces my cheekbone before he steps back. "Don't let me interrupt. I know the critics from the Times are here tonight."

My eyes widen. "How did you—never mind. I don't want to know."

“I just want to drop by and wish you luck, not that you need it.” He smiles softly at me.

“Dad, Lily, and Karen are in there if you want to join them.” I offer.

“Maybe later.” Marco leans in and places a kiss on my lips. “I’m going to visit Baz, but I’ll be back later.”

“Okay, tell him I said hi.” I fire back. I glance at the busy kitchen.

“Go, work. I’ll talk to you later.”

I return to the command center, shouting out orders with renewed vigor.

"So, it's official now?" I ask, swirling the last of my wine in its glass. The restaurant is empty except for two staff members sweeping up; the lights dimmed to a warm glow.

Marco nods, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him. His tie is loosened, sleeves rolled up, exposing those forearms that still distract me embarrassingly often.

"Damien finalized the paperwork yesterday. Walsh Security Consulting is now a fully legitimate operation, specializing in high-end corporate security and risk assessment." His fingers drum lightly on the table. "We've retained most of our clients through the transition."

"And the other things?" I ask quietly.

He meets my eyes directly. "Being dismantled or restructured, piece by piece. It's not immediate—can't be, without creating bigger problems—but it's happening."

I nod, understanding the complexities he's navigating. Nothing about Marco's world allows for clean breaks or fresh starts. It's all gradual shifts, careful recalibrations.

"Any word from James?" I ask, bringing up the brother who vanished after Patrick's death.

Marco's expression clouds momentarily. "He's in France with Mary, according to our sources. Keeping his distance." He sighs. "Maybe that's for the best, for now."

I reach across the table to take his hand, feeling the familiar calluses against my palm.

Marco’s expression shifts, and he withdraws his hand. He reaches into his pocket, suddenly looking almost...nervous? It's such an unfamiliar expression on his face that I sit up straighter.

"I've been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment," he admits, turning a small velvet box in his hands. "But I'm realizing there is no perfect moment. Just this—us, building something together day by day."

My breath catches as he opens it, revealing a ring nestled inside—platinum band with a striking emerald-cut diamond, elegant but not flashy. Exactly what I would have chosen.

Of course, he knows. He's always known me, sometimes better than I know myself.

"I can't promise you a normal life," he says, his voice low and honest. "But I can promise you'll never face anything alone again. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together."

Tears prick at my eyes as I look from the ring to his face, seeing everything written there—the love, the promise, the absolute certainty.

"Together," I agree, my voice thick as I extend my hand. The ring slides onto my finger, a perfect fit. Just like us—unexpected, imperfect, but somehow right.

I can't take my eyes off the emerald glittering on my finger, the stone catching the dim glow of the chandeliers overhead. Its weight feels surreal, almost symbolic, resting there as if marking me as his.

"Everyone out," Marco orders abruptly, his voice carrying a rough edge that sends a shiver down my spine.

The staff glance at each other, quickly slipping out silently, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. The sudden quiet amplifies the sound of my heartbeat, pulsing steadily faster with each passing second.

Marco doesn't take his eyes off me. Slowly, deliberately, he circles the table, each footfall echoing like a promise. The tension thickens the air between us, charged with anticipation.

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