Chapter 19: On My Terms

"Livia Santoro," Lorenzo said again, from one knee, in front of six men and an empty chair.

"Get up," I whispered.

"No."

"Lorenzo, they're watching."

"That is the idea."

He held up the ring.

It was plain and old, a band of dull gold with a small grey stone.

"This was my mother's," he said. "I have not asked a woman for anything in my life. I am asking you. Marry me."

My throat closed.

I had walked in here to save a name and a family and a street.

I had not planned for this.

"Is it a command?" I asked.

"It is a question."

"Then I have terms."

A small, startled laugh went around the table.

Lorenzo did not laugh.

He inclined his head.

"Name them."

"One," I said. "You never hide anything from me again. Not to protect me, not to protect my brother, not for any reason."

"Agreed."

"Two. The docks stay in my name, and I run them, and the crew answers to me. You get your cut like everyone else."

A pause.

"Agreed," he said, and I thought I saw his mouth twitch.

"Three. When I'm afraid, you let me be afraid, and you don't decide what I can bear."

"That one is harder."

"It's the one that matters."

"Agreed," he said quietly.

"And four." I leaned down, so only he could hear. "Don't lie to me. It's your rule. It's mine now."

His eyes closed for a moment.

"Yes," he said.

I held out my left hand.

He slid the ring onto my finger, and it fit.

The north-side man applauded, once, with dry old hands, and then the others did.

Lorenzo stood up and kissed me in front of all of them.

It was not careful.

When he finally let me go, one of the airport brothers was grinning, and the other was looking at the ceiling.

Ilaria screamed when I told her.

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