Mafia Darling

26 | Ella

When I wake up in the morning, Marco is already dressed. He lounges on a chair by the window, but it's me he's turned toward. I sit up slowly, yawning, my hair falling into my mouth. He smiles.

"Sleep well?"

I shyly pull up the blankets to cover myself. I cleaned myself up and took the pill last night, but I never put my clothes back on.

"Ella, I need to tell you something."

His tone is delicate but urgent. My fingers tighten around the sheets with a spike of fear. "What is it?"

He leaves the chair and sits on the corner of the bed, leaning forward far enough to brush the hair out of my face. It's a motion as delicate as his tone, a stark contrast to what he did to me last night. Marco Corleone contains multitudes, and I'm the girl he's trusted to see them.

"I was thinking about us," he says softly. "About our future."

I take a timid breath. "And?"

He looks at me for a long time, studying my face. "If you truly believe that the mafia is too much for you...then you can walk away. I'll give you some money to help you land on your feet, and you'll never have to hear from me again. Or..." He takes a deep breath. "Ella Laurent, you can marry me."

"Yes."

The acceptance barely fazes him. He chuckles. "Take a few days to think on it--"

"No." I grab his shoulders and pull him toward me. "I said yes."

The smile fades when he realizes I'm serious. "You want to marry me?" he whispers, curling his hands around my own. "You mean it?"

I nod. Who knew I would be proposed to while on a luxury yacht floating along the Mediterranean? Not me. Not Mother or Auntie, either. 

I wrap my arms around him and play with his hair, murmuring, "What, no ring?"

Marco's eyes light up. He practically falls off the bed in his effort to reach for his jacket, and he takes a box out of the pocket. I forget that I'm naked and drop the sheets in shock when he opens it.

The diamond is huge. 

"I bought this the day I laid eyes on you," he confesses. "It was an impulse. I wasn't sure what you would mean to me then, but the days passed, and I realized I might need the ring, after all."

I shake my head, words dying on my tongue.

It's too much!

I'm not worth that!

Jesus, a silly band would've done.

But ultimately, I tear my eyes from the ring to him and smile. "It's beautiful," I choke out. "Thank you."

Marco slides the ring onto my finger; it's a perfect fit. The weight of it on my hand, the same hand with the silver chain that signifies I'm his, sends comfort and warmth through me. He loves me. 

Ella Laurent, of no noble lineage and no money, is engaged.