She’s My Queen

29. You want a pony?

29

YOU WANT A PONY?

CRISTINA

S everio down on one knee, holding out a box. Wha… What’s he doing? Either my brain is sluggish, or I’m in disbelief. I’m wrapping my head around what’s going on here while Severio doesn’t speak or move or do anything besides stare up at me.

My shaky hands fly to my mouth. “Severio, oh my God.” My words are muffled behind my hands, so I drop them to my sides, tightening them into fists so I don’t accidentally reach for the Trivo jewelry box. “We’re in the cemetery,” I whisper and side-eye the pair of gravediggers, who have stopped working and are leaning on their shovels, witnessing our situation.

“I’m aware,” Severio says.

This is why he seemed uncomfortable and flirty. He was… He is proposing, right? On his knee, offering me a box, can’t be anything else. Can it?

He hasn’t said anything, but his face tells me he’s doing his best to hide his utter discomfort. The groveling and the emotional vulnerability this requires is not something Severio is comfortable with, and the proposal, if that’s what this is, is madness. Even for him.

Slowly, he opens the golden box, and the wedding band tucked within the plush red interior matches the one Severio wore at Frenchy’s. It’s a smaller version of it, but I recognize it all the same.

“Cristina,” Severio starts.

“That’s not an engagement ring,” I blurt, hoping it’ll stall him.

“My mother’s ring will make its way to you once it’s upgraded.”

Silenced, my mouth forms an O.

“Cristina Mancini,” Severio says.

I interrupt again. “It’s Capone, not Mancini. Your uncle and I never got married.” I’m whispering so the two men not far from us don’t overhear.

“I know. I was there.”

“Then why do you keep calling me Mancini?”

“Because I consider you mine.”

His entitlement shows, but it sounds so possessive that I can’t fault him for thinking of me as his. Yet, I can’t let him continue, certainly not with witnesses. I turn a hard gaze on the gravediggers, and they get back to work.

My heart already decided it’ll say yes, but if I say yes to him today, I’m telling this all-consuming, world-domination-craving man that he could get away with anything when it comes to us. I’m telling him he can do whatever he wants with me. But he can. He really can, and that’s terrifying.

Severio is made of rock. I’m made of clay, and whenever he pours water over me, I melt and reshape into what he needs. Not now, however. He created a series of events that we must let play out.

“Don’t say the words. Please don’t ask me,” I beg, mainly because I don’t know if I can reject him. “If you’re serious about marrying me, you have to wait until the mourning period is over.” He knows this. I’m expected to mourn for about a year”

“You didn’t marry my uncle.”

“But on this island, I’m his widow nonetheless. The scandal of our marriage will break out and jeopardize my mom’s position. You’d hate that, and I don’t want us to be the reason the island falls into the wrong hands. The traffickers you chased off when you arrived could return if she loses, and that would be a loss for us all.”

Severio stands up and brushes the dirt off his knee. He pockets the box and clasps his hands behind his back. “I wasn’t aware you knew about the trafficking ring.”

“I overheard you and Mom on the phone yesterday.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You mean you eavesdropped on my conversation?”

“Your voice carries.”

He steps closer and bends to whisper, “Stalker.” He straightens, lips turned up. “I appreciate your concern about scandals and the general consideration for Order business. I’m prepared for the backlash and wouldn’t mind it at all in this case.”

“But I’m not you, Severio. I live here. These are my people, and I care about them and what they think of me. I can’t get hitched five minutes after burying who they think was my husband, their prime minister.”

He offers me his elbow. “It’s been more than five minutes.”

“You know what I mean.” I accept his escort, and we walk over the grass, my heels digging into the soft ground.

“And who said anything about getting hitched?” he asks.

I look up at him. “You knelt and offered me a ring.”

“I knelt because my leg hurt from standing all day after I took two bullets and saved your life. I’m still recovering.” He side-eyes me, clearly joking. “Inside the box was a…a ring nobody would consider a wedding band. And I never asked you anything. You talked almost the entire time I was resting on my knee.”

“Stop making me laugh.” I cover my mouth, then I spot a car waiting for us past the gate. I hurry, but he slows me down by placing a hand on top of mine. “No rush. I rarely get a chance to walk with you.” He looks around. “It’s a nice day. My uncle would’ve been happy with the attendance.” Severio sighs.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It is what it is. I mourned him long ago. This was just a formality, a chance for others to do the same.”

At the gate, Severio waves off the car, telling the driver we’ll walk back. He turns toward town, but I halt. “I have to stop by the church.”

“We went there already.”

“We did. But given your non-proposal, I need a few minutes to myself.”

Severio doesn’t like it. I can tell he doesn’t because he scans the surroundings, grinds his teeth, looks down at me, then shakes his head. “People will expect you at Frenchy’s for the repast.”

“I’ll be there.”

He drops his elbow, and we separate.

“I’ll ask you to marry me tomorrow.” He jerks his head toward the church behind me. “Make peace with it. Do whatever you need to do.”

I throw up my hands. “We agreed it’s too soon. We agreed I need time.”

“No, Cristina, you tried to reason with me, but I can longer be reasoned with. I’ve already decided I’m marrying you.” He points toward Gio’s gravesite. “Since my parachute didn’t deploy that could’ve been me, and I want what I want right now, not in one year.”

“Then ask me tomorrow.”

“You can refuse me.”

“I could.”

“I’ll tell you what will happen if you do.”

I brace. “What?”

Severio smirks. “I’ll keep asking every day. Flowers, chocolates, kittens, puppies. You want a pony? You’ll have it. And if none of those gifts makes you say yes, I’ll give you the hotel.” He cups my face. We’re in the middle of the street. “The house. I also have yachts. They’re bigger than yours.”

“Stop being so sexy,” I tell him. “It’s annoying.”

Severio tilts his head and dips it.

“No, don’t,” I mumble, too late, because he’s already kissed me. On the sidewalk. In front of everyone. It’s not a deep, long kiss, and people could interpret it as some sort of awkward family thing, as if he meant to kiss my cheek but missed, so he played it well.

But I know. I know it’s meant to be a heated, conquering kind of kiss that’ll keep burning on my lips long after Severio walks away.

His smug expression tells me he thinks he’s winning. “You won’t refuse me. You can’t say no, and that’s why you stopped me from asking in the first place.” He smiles. “I already own you. All of you. Every inch of you.” He smiles wider, all teeth and dimples. “You’re going to be my wife. Cristina Severio Mancini.”

I spin on my heel and wave. “Goodbye, Severio.”

“I’ll give you an hour,” he shouts after me, and the people walking past us on the sidewalk start to turn. “And after Frenchy’s, you’re coming over and spending the night.”

At the church entrance, I put my hands on my hips. “Shout a little louder, would you?”

Severio’s backtracking, a wicked smirk curling his lips.

“My boyfriend over in Sicily didn’t hear you.”

That wipes the smug smile right off his face. I cross myself and enter the church, feeling a little evil and a lot less sad.