says from next to him as they begin the return trip back to Clandon City.
His city. Her new home.
She’d been quiet for the most part.
He can’t blame her. He wasn’t feeling chatty either as he tries to digest everything that he’s just been informed. And while Matteo was getting a few moments alone to get to know Ariana, Don Mazzilli also privately let him know that he’d just learned of the truth as well. He learned of it when Stella showed him that video. He’d called Matteo to the carpet immediately.
Things like this could destroy families. The Italian famiglias do not take kindly to such depravity and would use all their resources to make it nonexisting. He can understand Matteo’s predicament. It’s impossible to immediately deal with something this…unnatural…when thrown into someone’s lap. So Matteo thought following through with Pietro’s final wishes would be the best thing to do.
It doesn’t make complete amends but it’s…he’s at a loss of words for it actually.
“But he didn’t. All because he cared about his family name and face,” Ariana continues.
She isn’t looking at him. She’s trying to make sense of things and speaking her mind. When she looks up again, she screams for Sully to stop the car.
“Please! Can we…Adam, can we turn around? There’s a cemetery back there. I’d…I’d like to visit my mother,” she pleads with tears in her eyes.
How can he deny her that?
“Sully,” he calls out.
“Already on it. We have plenty of time,” Sully replies.
She anxiously directs Sully on which turns to make and where to stop. She gets out without waiting for her door to be opened. He’s going to have to remind her about that later. For now, he’s content just following her at his own pace. Giving her the few minutes she needs to be alone.
When he comes within hearing distance, she’s screaming and crying in clear frustration. She turns around and he instinctively opens his arms to catch her.
“They…her headstone. It’s not here anymore, Adam. They must have removed it,” she cries.
It’s fucking heart-wrenching. Why wouldn’t it be? Those motherfuckers continue to haunt her. Why would desecrating a grave be a new low for them at this point?
“Shh…It’ll be handled, Ariana. It’ll be okay.”
She looks up at him with round woeful eyes.
“Trust me?”
She nods.
For the next half hour, she sat on the grass next to the small plaque marking her mother’s grave. She let out her frustrations. She asked questions that will never be answered. But she ends by telling her mother how much stronger she’s getting. It didn’t even bother him that she didn’t tell her mother about him and their relationship.
During the long drive back, she’d fallen asleep by the time they reached the halfway point. She’d been doodling on gas station napkins before she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder.
The napkin slips out of her hand and he glances down at it when it falls across his thigh.
It’s a drawing of a headstone. Probably her mother’s. He doesn’t know if it’s what her mother’s headstone used to look like or if it’s what Ariana wants it to be but he pockets the napkin with intentions to fulfill her dream.
Not just this one dream but any other one she might have in her pretty little head.
Stuffing the napkin into his suit jacket, his fingers brush over the small velvet box inside. He removes it from his jacket slowly so as not to wake her.
He’d spoken to Matteo and Don Mazzilli before they left the estate and they had both given their blessings. He hadn’t found the words to ask her yet. Go figure. He was at some point deemed the smartest King, yet Ariana has him tongue-tied. Maybe he should ask Rory, the most romantic King, for a pointer or two.
But he goes with it. Winging things have gotten him this far as of late.
He removes the three-carat rock from the velvet box and slides it onto her finger. No question asked. He didn’t know if he can withstand her rejection. She’s just coming into her own, discovering freedom for the first time in her life. Maybe she had plans and aspirations.
“Are…are you sure?” she asks quietly.
She sits up and faces him. Turmoil is written all across her face. It nearly breaks him.
“I won’t be putting that on anyone else, Ariana. I don’t want anyone else,” he tells her.
A tear slides down her flawless cheek as more wet her lashes.
“Adam, you’re a King and I’m—”
“Will be a King,” he cuts her