Page 93 of The Proposal

That’s exactly how I feel when I’m with this woman. The chaos and uncertainty that constantly surround my life seem to fade into the background.All I see is her.

When I was forced to marry this woman in order to get my nephew back, I honestly thought I was sealing my fate. That I’d be facing a life of misery.I was wrong.Arabella has changed me in ways I couldn’t imagine. She makes me happy … happier than I ever thought possible.

It’s Christmas Eve, and my wife is on a mission. She wants to bring cheer to my men, their families, and the less fortunate in our community.

I love her even more for doing this.

Love her?

Fuck!

I’ve never been in love before, but the sense of euphoria I get when she’s around tells me maybe I am. Her smile, her laugh, the way she moves. That damn fluttering in my chest whenever I see her.

In the beginning, I hoped we’d be able to come to a mutual understanding, at best, a friendship. I never thought I’d get here in such a short time.

Will she be able to love me back one day?

I push that thought from my mind. I’ll unpack that shit later. Right now, Romeo and I have a shitload of hampers to load into the back of the truck that just reversed up my driveway.

“I can’t believe Arabella has put all this together on her own,” Romeo says as we head back into the house to collect some more. “It’s impressive and will mean a lot to the men.”

“It was all her idea, but I’m completely on board. I think you guys have come to mean a lot to her. She enjoys having you all over when we have our meetings.”

“We all think the world of her too.” He reaches up and places his hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you found someone like her. She fits in so well with your life.”

“She does,” I say, grinning.

“I hope I find a woman that complements me like that one day.”

I once thought I was marrying someone with a heart made of stone-cold ice, but I now know it’s made of pure gold. My wife has spent the past week painstakingly cooking, boxing, shopping, and wrapping each basket with love and care. She baked over a hundred panettone, which is a traditional Italian Christmas cake. It’s a cross between a cake and sweet bread and is filled with almonds and dried fruit. As well as almost a thousand amaretti biscuits. She’s a goddamn machine.

The most generous thing my father would do was to hand out cash bonuses to our men, which I’ll also be doing, but this year, it will have a more personal touch. We’ve ordered hundreds of smoked hams, chickens, and turkeys.

Arabella is inside getting changed while we load everything onto the truck. We are heading to a local church—the same one I attended as a kid—where my mother devoted much of her time when she was alive.

Romeo said that when he drove past, people were already queuing outside. Some of the locals look up to me like I’m agod, but others loathe and fear me, all because of my name. They see my connections to the Cosa Nostra and judge me accordingly.

I’m determined to change that narrative by giving back to the community that has been my home my entire life, helping those who need it most. This is my chance to make a real impact and prove that I’m more than they believe. I’m not my father; I don’t rule through fear and manipulation.

While my world may be morally grey at times, my wife constantly inspires me to be better.

Chapter 22

Dante

My sweet, exhausted wife is currently asleep on my shoulder in the back seat of the limousine as we head to the airport to board the flight up north to a private airstrip in Rutherford. From there, a car will collect us and take us to our final destination … my brother’s cabin in the Hunter Valley. It’s Christmas morning, and also the first anniversary of my father’s execution.

Alexander invited me to spend the holiday with him, Chloe, and Giovanni weeks ago, but I was undecided until last night. Meeting with countless local families from my community made me realise how much I miss my own, and how important it is to be with the people you love this time of year.

My brother is all I have left.

I’ve been putting off seeing him since I returned from Italy. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I hadn’t told him about Arabella yet. He’s going to ask questions I’m not ready to answer.

I don’t want him to feel guilty that I was forced to marry a stranger to get his son back. I don’t want that weight hangingover us because, in some twisted way, it’s turned out to be a blessing.

Arabella and I have begun to build something real, something I never thought I’d have. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most unexpected gift of all. I no longer feel like I’m alone or that I’m constantly fighting to be seen.

When we got home last night, it was late, and we were both on such a high. My wife is a giver, and I can see why. It’s so rewarding.

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