Page 117 of The Proposal

“Yes.”

“Hand me the match and turn around and walk out. I’ll do it. I’ll willingly carry the burden for you,amore mio(My love).”

It’s at that very moment I finally find the clarity I’ve been searching for. Dante’s confessed his love for me twice now, and I’ve never said it back. Not because I didn’t feel what he felt, but because I wasn’t sure if he truly meant it. The first time he said it was when he found out I was carrying his child, and a part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it was the idea of what we had created together that he loved …notme.

Not only did he risk his alliance with my father by coming here to save my sister, but he was also willing to shoulder the weight of what I was about to do, so I didn’t have to live with the burden. That speaks volumes, and I now know with absolute certainty that he means it when he says he loves me because I would do the same for him.

My eyes dart to my husband for the briefest moment, and as much as I appreciate his offer, there is no way I’m going to accept it. My resolve remains strong. “Let him go, and step back … please,” I instruct, my voice controlled and calculated.

This time, he doesn’t falter. He lets go of Papa’s throat and takes two steps backward, coming to stand beside me. I see it in my father’s eyes the second he decides to make a run for it, but he doesn’t get far. We are blocking his exit towards the front door.

I strike the match and throw it in his direction just as he turns to flee towards the back of the house. I hold my breath as I hear the intense whoosh of flames exploding to life. The alcohol catches with a hissing roar, igniting his hair and the fabric of his suit within seconds. A rush of heat and light passes through the air as the flames spread swiftly.

He falls to his knees, and the blood-curdling scream that rips from the back of his throat doesn’t send chills down my spine like it did the day I witnessed him murder my mother.

I cover my mouth and straighten my shoulders as the scent of burning flesh rises in the air.

Reaching for my husband’s hand, I lace my fingers through his.

“I’m glad my child will never get to know you. I hope you burn in hell for all eternity, you lowlife piece of shit.”

Chapter 27

Dante

Istand here, completely stunned and, frankly, a little turned on by what my wife just did. She didn’t hesitate for a second. Her resolve was absolute, and I’m proud that she stood her ground and followed through.

Neither of us moves as we watch the life get sucked out of her father. Arabella doesn’t shy away; she just stares with quiet resolve. But once the flames begin to lick the wall, I know it’s time to leave. It won’t be long before the entire house is engulfed.

Tugging on her hand, I lead her towards the front door.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she says.

“I’m not,” I reply, lifting our conjoined hands to my mouth and placing a kiss on her knuckle.

Her dark side calls to me.

It doesn’t frighten me or turn me off in the slightest. It draws me in, igniting something deep inside. She just learnt a powerful lesson, one I embraced many years ago: only when you dare to explore the darkness within can you truly understand the boundless strength of the light.

Now that she has her justice, hopefully, she’ll be able tomove past the pain that has haunted her for so long and step into a future where the weight will no longer hold her down.

Some people chip away at the kindest hearts—as Stefano did with Arabella for many years—pushing boundaries and confusing generosity with weakness.

When that compliance finally shifted, forcing her to respond with what some people may label as toxic or depraved, they need to remember she never started this fire. Every reaction has a cause, and every flame begins with a spark.

Her father simply got the ultimate karma from the little girl who had to stand at the window and watch her poor mother perish in the most horrific way. He’s finally facing the consequences of his actions. Just like Edoardo did. The universe has a way of balancing out the scales eventually, and in my eyes, that’s exactly what happened here.

As soon as we step out onto the front porch, we are met by Roberto again. “Is everything okay in there?” he asks. Those gut-wrenching screams have now stopped, but there’s no doubt he heard them.

“Stefano is gone,” I reply, reaching into my pocket to retrieve my money clip. I remove the wad of notes and shove them into his hand. “You now work for me. Do you have an issue with that?”

Not surprisingly, he shakes his head. “No, Mr Mancini.”

I got to know some of Stefano’s men the week before my wedding, and it didn’t take much to see that they had more contempt than admiration for the head of theirFamiglia.

Gaining respect comes from earning loyalty through trust and leadership. Having someone fear you will only breed obedience driven by intimidation, not true allegiance.

“Good.” I hold out my hand, palm facing up. “Hand me your phone.”

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