Page 92 of Damon

"Within the month."

"That will give us time to negotiate the alliance terms, plan the ceremony, make sure both families understand what this union represents. We need to get busy. There’s a lot to do."

“Yes, there is.”

It’s time to prove to everyone I can be the man they both need.

Starting now.

Chapter 29: Viviana

I've been staring at my reflection in the mirror for twenty minutes, trying to calm my nerves. Mama helped me choose a simple but elegant navy dress. Something that doesn't scream "unplanned pregnancy" but still shows respect for the formality of today.

Today, Damon comes to officially ask for my hand.

Even though Papa has already agreed, even though the contracts have been drawn up, even though everyone knows I'm carrying Damon's child, we still have to do this properly. The old ways matter in our world.

"Viviana?" Mama calls from the doorway. "They're here."

My heart leaps into my throat. "Already?"

"Your father is greeting them in his study. You have a few minutes."

I stand on shaky legs, smoothing down my dress. "How do I look?"

Mama smiles, though I see the concern in her eyes. "Like a woman about to marry the man she loves."

"Mama, what if—"

"No what-ifs," she says firmly. "What's done is done. Today is about moving forward."

I take a deep breath and follow her downstairs. The house feels different somehow, charged with anticipation and the weight of what's about to happen. I can hear Papafrom behind his study door and the low rumble of male conversation that means business is being conducted.

"The Lombardis brought a small delegation," Mama explains as we pause in the hallway. "Damon, his father, and two of his uncles. Very proper."

"Is he—" I start to ask, then stop myself. Of course he's nervous too. This is as big for him as it is for me.

The study door opens, and Papa emerges first, his expression carefully neutral. Behind him comes an older man I recognize as Damon's father with the same dark hair, the same observant eyes, but weathered by decades in this business.

And then Damon appears.

He's wearing a charcoal suit that fits him perfectly, his hair combed back, looking every inch the successful businessman instead of the dangerous man who held me captive. But his eyes find mine immediately, and I see everything there. Relief that I'm okay, desire that makes my skin flush, and something deeper that looks like reverence.

"Miss Bonacci," his father says formally, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Mr. Lombardi," I reply, accepting his handshake. His grip is firm but not crushing, and I can see where Damon gets his controlled strength.

"Perhaps we could speak privately?" Papa suggests to the elder Lombardi. "There are arrangements to finalize."

"Of course." Damon's father nods, then looks at his son. "Ten minutes."

The adults disappear back into the study, leaving Damon and me alone in the hallway. We stare at each other, the silence stretching between us.

"You look stunning," he says finally, and the simple word breaks something loose in my chest.

"You look terrified."

That gets a small laugh out of him. "I am. But not of your father or the marriage or any of that." He steps closer. "I'm terrified of letting you down."