Page 103 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
Mom, Veronica, and Marcela stand together, Mom in her chef’s uniform, all of them with emotion etching their features. My heart races. I think I know where this is going, but I can’t dare to dream it.
Can tonight truly be that perfect?
When the music fades out, my eyes sting with happy tears.
“Siena, I love you more than life itself. I love the adventure you turn life into, like every day is one of your events. That’s what you do; you make life an event, an experience, exciting and new and…” He croaks, his voice going husky. It’s the first time I’ve seen him close to tears. “And perfect. You’re perfect, Siena. I knew you were special the first time we met.”
He stares deep into my eyes. “It was your smile, your seriousness, your sarcasm, and your determination to do the right thing. It was the fact that you didn’t take any crap, ever… and you still don’t. It was your ambition. It’s you, all of you, the good and the bad–not that there’s much bad.”
I laugh through a sob of pure joy. “It’s a good thing you addedthatpart.”
From the crowd, laughs mingle with cries of support.
“Siena Walsh…” Dario lowers himself to one knee, his hand slipping into his jacket pocket. He takes out a ring box, opens it, and presents a flawless blue diamond ring, which glitters in the low light. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
He slips the ring onto my finger. All around us, people applaud, whooping and cheering their support.
Dario leaps to his feet and pulls me into his arms, dipping me into a fairytale kiss.
EPILOGUE
DARIO
Five Years Later
“Was it there, Daddy?” Dante says, pointing out at the ocean.
I grin and lean back on the beach towel, nodding. The sun has set, but the Maldivian sky is clear and the stars shine down, making the sea gleam. “It was right there, son.”
“Whoa.”
I ruffle his hair. He’s got his mother’s honey-colored eyes, with my black hair, and a smattering of freckles across his cheek like his maternal grandmother had when she was little.
“And you swam into her boat like a shark.”
I chuckle. “Something like that.”
“Did you know it was Mommy?”
“I didn’t know her then,” I tell him.
Not like we know each other now, as if we’ve lived inside each other’s minds, as if every piece of us is carved into the other, our souls intertwined. My wife. My child’s mother. My angel.
“Mommy said she thought you were a merman.” Dante giggles. “I bet you were a really good swimmer.”
“Iaman excellent swimmer, I’ll have you know.”
He leaps to his feet and starts running for the water.
“Hey, where are you going?” I laugh, chasing after him.
“I’m a better swimmer than you!”
We spend some time splashing in the waves together. The sound of my son’s laughter is addictive. Then, I catch him. I lift him up and hold him on my shoulders. He grabs the top of my head, pushing it one way and then the other.
“What’re you doing, little man?”
