“Your grandmother’s?” she asked, instead of answering my question.
“Yes. I wanted to buy a new ring but none of them would have meant as much as this one does.” I felt like a fucking pussy admitting this, especially as I was still kneeling beside Marcella.
She didn’t say anything only regarded the ring and I was beginning to feel nervous. I had never considered that she might say no. Not because I was certain she couldn’t have a better husband, because she probably could. “I’ll be the best husband for you. I’ll have your back when you need it, and I’ll be at your side when you need a partner. And if you need a protector, I’ll make up your front. I’ll be your knight in dirty armor, your lover, your confidant. I’ll kill your enemies and hold your crown. I’ll give my blood, my life and anything else you want.”
Marcella shook her head, tears in her eyes, and my heart sank, but then a smile spread on her face. “You don’t have to convince me. I know you are the right man for me. So yes!”
“Yes?” I asked like an idiot.
“Yes.”
I put the ring on her finger and pulled her against me, kissing her deeply. Santana tiptoed around us, her wagging tail hitting us on occasion. She obviously thought this was a fun game. I shoved to my feet and pulled Marcella with me only to lift her off the ground and kiss her again. She wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.
“We have to tell my parents. Dad will be furious if we don’t tell him right away.”
I pulled back. “He already knows.”
Marcella’s brows puckered.
“I asked him for your hand in marriage because I figured he was the traditional type and I knew how much your father’s approval meant to you.”
Marcella’s face morphed into a smile but then she pursed her lips. “It’s my decision whom I marry. Men making these kinds of decisions behind my back is archaic.”
I smirked. I had expected that reaction. “Your dad predicted you’d say something along the line. We both had a good laugh about it.”
“You and Dad laughed together?”
“He smirked a little. I count that as full-blown laughter where your father is concerned.”
Marcella shook her head but she looked slightly mollified. “It’s my decision,” she insisted.
“It is. Only your decision. Your father only said that he’d give his approval if you want to marry me. And you said yes.”
“I did,” she whispered, softening once more.
I couldn’t believe it.
When I returned home later with Santana, and she rolled up in the basket at the window that I’d bought for her, I felt like I was slowly arriving in this new life.
The same evening, I was invited over to dinner at the Vitiello mansion.
It still was the fucking strangest feeling in the world to set foot inside Luca Vitiello’s home. In my mind it had always seemed like the devil’s den, but this place, of course luxurious as fuck, had a homely feeling and was slowly starting to feel familiar.
It still felt surreal to be under the same roof with Luca Vitiello, a man I’d spent so many years killing in my fantasies that our sudden truce still hadn’t sunk in. Only someone like Marcella had the power to bring men like us together. For a girl like her a man would do anything. I would definitely. My father had died by her father’s hand, and my uncle had died through mine by her bidding. It spoke of my love for this woman that I didn’t regret anything. The murder of my uncle had proven my love to Marcella and I’d kill him over and over again if she asked me.
Their housekeeper opened the door. Usually, Marcella was the one to do it, probably to keep me away from her father and brother.
“I’m here for dinner,” I said simply.
The housekeeper eyed me critically. My decision to wear black jeans and a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves obviously didn’t pass her approval.
“The Masters are expecting you in the fireplace room.”
I stifled the need to roll my eyes. Of course, the house had a fireplace room. Even though I’d dated Marcella for more than six months, I’d never gotten farther into the house than the foyer and that one time in the living room. Up on the staircase stood Valerio, grinning. Not surprising, he was the Vitiello man I got along with the best. “You’re in big trouble.”
I cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t elaborate. I followed the housekeeper through the foyer and down the corridor to a wooden door. She knocked. Amo opened the door a couple of seconds later, looking so glum, you could think we were commemorating someone’s passing and not my engagement to his sister.
He gave me a curt nod in greeting before he opened the door so I could enter. Inside seated on the wide leather armchairs, were Luca and Matteo. Their expressions were slightly less hostile. Matteo got up and handed me a dark amber drink. “You’re a lucky bastard.”
“I know,” I said, taking a sniff at the liquid. “Is this your way of getting rid of me?”
“Poison is not my style,” Luca said dryly.
“He prefers to choke people with his bare hands,” Matteo commented. Then he winked and nodded. “Go ahead, drink up.”
“I know what he can do with his hands,” I said, then emptied the glass in one gulp. This tasted worse than the moonshine Gunnar used to make for club celebrations. The brief moment of wistfulness passed quickly, then I fought the urge to cough at the burning feeling making its way down my esophagus.
Luca nodded as if I’d passed a test by drinking. The guy was in his fucking forties but still looked as if he could beat the shit out of most guys, or choke them with his bare hands as Matteo liked to point out.
“Sit,” Luca said, motioning at the empty chair across from him.
I sank down. Amo watched me with narrowed eyes but Matteo’s eyes still gleamed with a hint of amusement.
“So,” I began, scanning the three Vitiello men. “Why am I here?”
“You’re going to marry Marcella, sooner or later.”
“Sooner. We want to tie the bond next year.”
“A year to organize a wedding of this proportion will freak everyone out,” Matteo said with a grin.
“What kind of proportions?”
“Marcella is my only daughter. She’s a Vitiello, so of course she’ll have a grand feast with hundreds of guests.”
“Okay,” I said. To be honest, I’d never thought about the actual feast.
“But first, we need to make the engagement official. Release a statement and so on,” Luca said.
“Fuck, you make it sound like it’s some kind of business endeavor.”
“Marriage is a sort of business endeavor in our circles. It’s used to strengthen families and make peace.”
“The press will probably spin their own tales anyway like they have been doing these last six months.”
“Probably,” Matteo agreed.
“Did you discuss the matter of your last name?” Luca asked.
“What matter? It’s tradition to take the name of the man.” Judging from their expressions, that wasn’t what they wanted. “But you don’t want Marcella to take my name.”