Chapter 8 - The Proposal
I nearly dropped the leather inventory file in my hands.
His legal wife.
The words echoed in my mind like thunder.
Before I could process what I had heard, the steel door at the end of the corridor clicked open. Dominic Vane walked out, red-faced and furious, clutching a leather briefcase. He saw me standing near the archive door, froze for a fraction of a second, glared at me with pure venom, and stormed past without saying a word.
A moment later, Rocco stepped out into the hallway.
He was wearing a dark suit without a tie, his shirt collar unbuttoned, looking exhausted but towering and powerful. When his eyes met mine, he didn't look surprised or flustered.
He walked slowly down the corridor toward me, his heavy footsteps echoing off the brick walls.
"You overheard," Rocco stated simply, stopping two feet away from me.
My throat felt dry as desert sand. "Rocco... what was Dominic talking about? Making me your wife?"
Rocco leaned his shoulder against the brick wall, looking down at me with an intense, steady gaze.
"Senator Arthur Cross is launching an indictment against me tomorrow, Clara," Rocco explained calmly. "He intends to use Evelyn's arrest to claim that my home is an unsafe environment for Matteo, attempting to seize custody of my son through state family courts."
I gasped. "He wants to take Matteo?"
"Yes," Rocco said. "And his legal strategy relies heavily on calling you to the stand as a key witness to establish that the estate staff was negligent and chaotic."
"I would never testify against you!" I said fiercely. "I would tell the judge the truth—that Evelyn was the criminal!"
"It doesn't matter what you say on the stand, Clara," Rocco said softly. "Cross's lawyers will spin your background. They will paint you as an underpaid maid who was coerced by a mob boss into giving a favorable statement. They will drag you and Lily through a toxic, public media circus for months."
I felt the air leave my lungs. The thought of Lily's picture being splashed across national tabloids, of our quiet life being torn apart by high-powered corporate lawyers, made me physically sick.
"Is there no other way?" I whispered.
"In the state of Illinois, spousal privilege protects a legal wife from being compelled to testify against her husband in state or federal court," Rocco stated, his deep voice carrying a strange, resonant warmth. "As Mrs. Moretti, your statements are legally protected. The family court cannot subpoena you. The state cannot question your presence in this house. And Matteo remains safely in our home, protected by a mother and a father."
I stared at him, my heart tearing against my chest. "A marriage of convenience?"
Rocco stepped closer to me, reaching out with his broad hand to gently cup the side of my face. His thumb brushed softly over my cheekbone, his touch surprisingly tender.
"It starts as a shield for our children, Clara," Rocco murmured, his dark eyes searching mine with a sincerity that made my breath catch. "But I would be a liar if I said that's the only reason I want you by my side."
My breath hitched. "Rocco..."
"I have watched you for eight months," Rocco confessed softly. "I watched you work in dignity without complaining. I watched you protect your daughter with fierce, quiet strength. And on the worst night of my life, when my son was stolen, you stood in that hallway and demanded answers instead of begging for mercy."
May you like
He leaned down slightly, bringing his face inches from mine.
"I don't just want a legal shield, Clara," Rocco whispered against my lips. "I want a woman I can trust with my life, my son, and my heart. Will you marry me?"
