Page 95 of The Proposal

As predicted, his eyebrows jump so high they almost reach his hairline. His gaze briefly scans over the curvy, petite brunette beside me before his attention moves back to me. “You brought a date?”

I smirk. “No. Alexander, this is Arabella … my wife.”

This time, his head rears back. “The fuck!”

“True story.”

“Bull shit.” I lift my hand that is clutching Arabella’s and show him the gold band I’m wearing on my finger. “You got married? When?”

His eyes ping-pong between my wife and me. “A few months ago.”

“A few months ago,” he growls. “And I’m only finding out about it now?”

“I’ve been busy?—”

My words are cut off as a tiny little human in dinosaur pyjamas squeezes around his father and barrels straight into me. “Uncle Dante,” he squeals as his little arms wrap around my upper legs.

When he draws his face back and looks up at me with a huge smile, I notice the tears shimmering in his big brown eyes. It makes me feel like an arsehole for staying away for so long.

“Hey, champ,” I say, ruffling his hair.

“I’ve missed you. Why don’t you live with us anymore?”

“I’m living back at my house now.”

“Why?”

“Because I only stayed with you guys while I was recovering.”

His gaze moves to Arabella. “Who’s that?”

“This is Arabella, my wife.”

“Wife!” I hear someone screech before Alexander is shoved to the side, and Chloe appears in the doorway. Her gaze moves from Arabella to me. “You got married?”

“Yep,” I reply, rocking proudly back on my heels.

She gasps before grumbling as she shoves my chest. “And we weren’t invited?!” I bark out a laugh which only seems to anger Chloe further. “There is nothing funny about that.”

“We got married in Italy,” Arabella says, finally finding her voice.

That gives Chloe pause. “He met you in Italy?” Her accusing eyes move back to me. “When we were all in Italy?”

“Technically, you guys had already left by the time we exchanged nuptials.”

Her hands go to her hips. “Did you know you were going to marry her while we were still over there?”

I wince. “Possibly.”

Chloe lets out a tiny growl before she reaches for my wife’s hand. “Come, Arabella,” she says, tugging her forward.

“Where are you taking my wife?” I ask.

She huffs before lifting her chin. “I’m taking my sister-in-law—who I was unaware until now even existed—into the kitchen to help me with breakfast so I can get to know her better.”

My lips curve up at the corners because this is exactly what I was hoping for.

I slap my wife’s luscious arse as she passes, adding in a cheeky squeeze for good measure, which has her jumping and releasing a tiny squeak. When she glances over her shoulder and narrows those emerald eyes of hers, my smile grows.

---