Page 19 of Forgive Me, Father

“Don’t apologize, Camilla.”Alfonso opened the box.“Which one?”

“The one by your pinky.”

He picked it up and handed me the rose gold band with a delicate design and the diamonds placed in the middle.It almost reminded me of vines.

I put it on my finger, but it didn’t fit.It was a bit big, but I loved this one.

“Do you have this in her size?”

“Let’s see her size.”The old man reached for my hand, and I laid my hand in his.He put my finger into a ring measurer and worked to find the right size.

Once he’d confirmed my size, he said, “I’ll have it sent over tonight around six.”

“Thank you, Pierre,” Alfonso replied.

The old man bowed his head, and his assistant helped clear up the boxes.

Alfonso already had a band on his ring finger.It was beautiful, plain, but I doubted the price was plain.

“I really thought this was going to take hours,” Alfonso remarked.

I huffed and smiled.“Guess I always know what I want.Was it expensive?”

“I don’t mind paying for a ring, just as long as you love it.”

“I’m sorry none of the big ones grabbed my attention.”

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, and my heart instantly beat faster as his hand lingered.He smelled divine, dangerous even, and I made a mental note to Google him.I was sure he was somewhere on the net.

“You’re a breath of fresh air,piccola fuggitiva.That’s for sure.I have work to do; thank you for keeping it short.”

I nodded, and he took a sip of my champagne.He smiled.“Finally, someone who can enjoy the expensive tastes that life has to give.”

I smiled in return.If he only knew that I had to force it down my throat.“Keep it.I have more than half a bottle left.”

He raised the glass and stood, walking back up the stairs to his office.

EIGHT

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

I drankfrom the bottle until the taste started to shift, becoming surprisingly sweet.And hated the moment it was finished.

My head spun, the world blurring around me, and before I knew it, I was drifting into a deep sleep.

The next morning, I awoke still wearing my jeans and jersey.Someone pulled the blanket over me, and I could only assume who had done so.

Then I saw it—the velvet black box sitting on the bedside table, impossible to miss, like it had been waiting for me to open my eyes.

But I didn’t need to look inside.

I could feel it.

My gaze dropped to my left hand, and there they were, the rings, already warm against my skin, as if they'd always belonged there.A smile tugged at my lips, unfamiliar and shaky, and still, I couldn't drop the urge to pinch myself.

Like I was living someone else’s dream.Or maybe finally waking into mine.

In honesty, it felt like a twisted mafia version ofCinderella, only instead of a fairy godmother waving a wand to send Cindy to the ball, I got a sharply dressed, inked-up bodyguard playing matchmaker for a crime lord.

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