Page 133 of The Proposal

That has him chuckling, which only angers me more. When I release a frustrated huff and start walking again, he follows.

I exit the store, stalk across the carpark and don’t stop, passing straight by our car. “Hey, where are you going?” he asks, reaching out to wrap his hand around my elbow.

“I’m walking home.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, effortlessly swooping me into his arms.

“Put me down!”

“No!”

He somehow manages to retrieve his keys from his pocket without dropping me. He presses the fob to unlock it and uses his knee to help support me as he opens the door and places me inside.

I turn my face away when he grasps the seat belt and stretches it across my torso, clicking it into place. “I love you,” he murmurs, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Please don’t be mad at me; I just want our child to have the best of everything.”

Those words have me instantly softening as tears burn the back of my eyes. He is a good husband and will be the best father, but I’ve already decided I’ll be coming back on my own next time to choose the furniture for the nursery.

When we arrive back at the house, I’ve calmed considerablydespite still being disappointed that we couldn’t reach an agreement today.

I’m looking forward to setting up the nursery. Dante had Romeo help him empty the room closest to ours. I wanted a blank canvas, so the painter applied a fresh coat of crisp white paint to brighten up the space.

We don’t know what we’re having. Dante was keen when we had the option to find out the sex, but I was not. Papa put so much emphasis on a male heir growing up that I’m petrified I’ll disappoint my husband if I’m carrying a little girl.

Dante reaches for my hand as we climb the front stairs. “Are you still mad at me?” he asks, bringing our conjoined hands to his mouth so he can place a soft kiss on my knuckles.

I sigh, before answering, “No.”

“Good, because there was a reason I delayed us at the store, and it had nothing to do with the furniture.”

I gasp, coming to an abrupt halt. “I take that back; I’m mad at you again.”

That damn grin of his has returned, and when he bops my nose with the tip of his finger, I’m feeling stabby again.

“Save that attitude until later when we’re alone.”

“We are alone,” I counter.

“No, we’re not.” He tugs me towards the front door, and as soon as he opens it, I jump back in fright when everyone yells, “Surprise.”

The foyer is filled with countless smiling faces. Lucia, Lina, Chloe, and the wives of Dante’s men, who I’ve become friends with over the past few months. We now get together regularly for long lunches.

Even through the crowd of people, I can see the sea of pink and blue balloons and streamers in the backdrop.

Is this my baby shower?

The tears I’ve been holding at bay all morning flood my eyes. “Aww, Bell-Bell,” Lucia says, stepping forward to wrap me in her arms. “Don’t cry, this is a celebration.”

“They are happy tears,” I sniffle as I draw out of her embrace.

I watch as my husband makes a beeline for Chloe. After giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, he gently lifts baby Luca out of her arms and cradles his tiny body against his chest.

“Come to Uncle Dante,” he whispers as he leans down to place his lips on the baby’s forehead. I swear I hear a succession of tiny pops in among the chorus of oohs and ahhs as the ovaries of every woman in his vicinity explode.

His muscles flex with the effortless strength I’ve always admired, and I love that he shows zero intimidation. The man who strikes fear into others is completely softened by the helpless life in his arms.

He handles baby Luca with both gentleness and protectiveness, like he’s aware of just how fragile he is. It’s such a contrast to the six-foot-three tattooed crime lord.

As all the women step forward to greet me, my husband disappears down the corridor with Luca. I can’t wait to see him holding our child. I pray he loves it just as much if it turns out to be a girl.

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