Chapter 7 - The True Queen of the EmpireThe next morning, the sun streamed through the windows of Marco’s bedroom. I was lying naked against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.
The door to the bedroom suddenly banged open.
I shrieked, pulling the silk sheets up to my chin. Marco bolted upright, instinctively throwing his body over mine to protect me, his hand reaching for the gun on the nightstand.
Isabella Ricci stood in the doorway, flanked by two of her massive guards.
She looked at Marco, then at me clutching the sheets. She didn't look angry. She looked entirely unsurprised.
"Put the gun away, Marco," Isabella sighed, waving her hand dismissively. "I came to apologize."
Marco froze, the gun hovering in mid-air. "Excuse me?"
Isabella walked into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed. "After I kicked Emily out last night, I had one of my men bring Lorenzo into the cellar. We had a... long conversation. He admitted he faked that folder. He knew Emily was your assistant, but he assumed the rest. He thought exposing it would fracture the family."
"It almost did," Marco growled, wrapping his arm tightly around my bare shoulders.
Isabella looked softly at me. "When you defended him at dinner the first night... no woman speaks that way unless she is truly in love. I knew you were his assistant, Emily. But I also knew my idiot son has been in love with you for a year and was too stubborn to do anything about it. I forced him to bring a girl this weekend, hoping he would finally snap and bring you."
My jaw dropped. I turned to look at Marco.
Marco groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You played me. You orchestrated this whole thing."
"I am the mother of a mafia boss," Isabella smiled sweetly. "I don't play. I orchestrate. Now, get dressed, both of you. We have a mess to clean up in the ballroom, and Lorenzo’s territory to seize before lunch."
She turned and walked out, closing the door behind her.
I sat there in stunned silence. Marco slowly moved his hands from his face, looking at me with a sheepish, incredibly boyish smile.
"So," he murmured, pulling me back down into the pillows, hovering over me. "You loved me for two years, huh?"
"Shut up," I laughed, pushing his shoulder, though my heart was soaring.
"Never," he whispered, his green eyes turning deadly serious, filled with a warmth and devotion that took my breath away. He reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a small velvet box.
I gasped.
Marco popped it open. Inside was a massive, flawless emerald-cut diamond ring.
"I bought this six months ago," Marco confessed softly. "I kept it in my desk at the office, just waiting for the day I had the courage to ruin our professional relationship." He kissed my forehead, my nose, and finally my lips. "I am never letting you go, Emily. Not for my mother, not for my enemies, not for anyone. Marry me. Be my wife, my partner, my queen."
Tears spilled from my eyes, but this time, they were pure joy.
"Yes," I whispered, pulling him down to me. "Yes, boss."
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Marco slid the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit.
The fake relationship was dead. But the empire we were about to build together had just begun.
