Page 32 of The Proposal

“Ha ha! You missed your calling; you should’ve been a comedian.”

I grin as I bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale her sweet scent. “I was known as the class clown at school.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I bet you were the teacher’s pet.”

“I was homeschooled.”

“Of course you were,” I grumble.

“What colour do you like best?” she asks, pointing to the small patches she’s painted onto the wall.

“They all look the same … white.”

“They do not. This one is eggshell white,” she replies, pointing to the first sample before moving along the line. “Alabaster, ivory, snow white, cotton white?—”

“They are all white, Arabella.”

She sighs. “I don’t know why I bothered asking your opinion.”

“Snow white,” I say, pointing to it. “If I had to narrow it down, I’d say that one is my favourite. It has a crisp, clean finish.”

She turns in my arms and looks up at me with a smile. “That’s my favourite as well.”

“Finally, we’ve found something we agree on.”

“I guess we do.”

“Snow white it is then.”

I take advantage of our position, leaning down to place my lips against hers. I love that she doesn’t hesitate to slide her arms around my neck and kiss me back.And fuck me, for an amateur, she can kiss.For someone who had zero experience when we met, she’s quickly become exceptional at it.

Before her, I wasn’t interested in inexperienced women. I’ve always liked them hard and fast, but there’s something thrilling knowing I’m the only man who’s ever had his lips on her. Hopefully, one day, she’ll let me take this further—not that I’ve tried—but I’m aching to be inside her.

One of my hands moves up to fist her ponytail, tugging slightly as I deepen the kiss. The other heads south, palming that peachy fucking arse of hers. She has such an alluring hourglass figure. Big tits, tiny waist, wide hips, and an arse I’m desperate to sink my teeth into.

This is about as handsy as I’ve gotten with her. What I want to do is palm that spectacular rack of hers in my hands, bite her taut nipples, suck them deep into my mouth, and bury my face between her legs. My list of wants where she’s concerned is endless.

I understand this is all new to her, and the last thing I want to do is rush her into doing something she’s not ready for. My dick wholeheartedly disagrees with me, but I can only hope that one day, my patience will pay off, and I’ll reap the ultimate prize … her respect, her body, andher heart.

My men and I are gathered around the dining room table. Today, there are only eight of us. My top men. The ones who will stand beside me going forward. My underboss, my counsel, and my futurecapos(Captains).

We’ve just finished another delicious breakfast, compliments of my beautiful wife.

Arabella claims to despise everything about this life, but it’s clear my men adore her, and she’s slotting in better than I ever imagined she would. She even participated in some of the conversation this morning, and I caught her laughing a time or two.

Stefano wouldn’t have let her sit at the table and enjoy a meal with his men, but I am not him. My father wasn’t like him either.

Angelina, the woman my father took in exchange for a debt after my mother passed, lived with us for more than a decade. Over the years, she became part of the family. She dined with us all the time.

It only seems right to have Arabella join us. Not only did she slave away in the kitchen for hours preparing our food, but she’s also my wife … the queen of my kingdom. I feel it’s beneficial for her to get to know my men on a more personal level.

Despite them being career criminals, there’s nothing intimidating or menacing about any of us when our guard’s down, and we’re in a relaxed environment. You’d never know the depravity we are capable of when we are together like this.

We might all share Italian roots, but Australians, as a whole, are a friendly bunch of people. This country has a laid-back, down-to-earth culture that puts you at ease. I doubt Arabella would ever admit to it, but I can assure you she’d see the difference between here and her homeland.

I’m seated at the head of the table, my wife is to my left, and Romeo is on the right. Edoardo should rightfully be sitting where she is, but I’ve moved him down to the far end of the table. He may think that position is also the head, but inmy eyes, it’s the bottom. The lowest part, because internally, that’s how I view him now.

---