Page 70 of Ruined Vows (Borrelli Mafia #5)

VUKAN

THE ONLY YES THAT MATTERS

I t happens on a quiet morning. No guards in the hall. No war at the door.

Just us.

She doesn’t hear the shift in my breath— not from fear or nerves, just something like peace.

“Bianca,” I say, entering the baby’s nursery. Bianca places toys on a shelf and stacks books for the baby. Then, she folds a blanket, slipping it over the back of the rocking chair.

I love her like this, strong, maternal. Mine.

She looks up, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

I cross the room slowly. No kneeling. No speech. Just a small black box in my palm.

She stills.

I open it. Inside—simple. Elegant. A ring. Platinum, sharp lines. No frills. Just us.

I kneel beside her. “You already wear my name. My scars. My blood. You carry my future.” My voice stays low. “But I want you to wear my promise. Every day. Every room. Every fight. Every night. You and me and as many kids as you want running these halls.”

Her eyes burn. But she doesn’t cry. She never does.

“I want all of it,” I say. “The fire. The quiet. The forever. I want you as my wife.”

She doesn’t blink, she leans in and whispers, “Yes.”

Not soft. Not hesitant. Just yes.

The only yes that’s ever mattered.

And I slide the ring onto her finger like I’m locking the last piece of my world into place. She completes me.

The ring is a six-carat ethically sourced emerald-cut black diamond. It’s deep, inky, and utterly unique, like her.

The sleek platinum band features claw prongs that hold the stone securely in place, much like talons. The tapered white baguette diamonds on each side accentuate the prominence of the center stones.

The engagement ring screams, “You’re mine.” The engraving says: “You were always going to be mine.” It’s in Serbian, so that only she and I know what it says.

Her eyes mist.

“This ring is a reflection of you, unique, smoldering, and unconventional. Because I didn’t want you to shine like anyone else,” I say. “I wanted you to wear something no one could mistake for soft.”

The ring looks like it came with a threat, but it’s a promise. One I intend to keep.

The promise that I will love her forever.