Chapter 21: An Honest Woman
Three days later and the word still felt foreign in her mouth.
Engaged.
Val stood in front of the bathroom mirror, half-dressed, her hair still wet from the shower. She'd put on a silk blouse—cream, nothing flashy—and then taken it off. Tried a sweater. Too casual. Tried the burgundy suit. Too formal for a Tuesday morning where the only thing on her calendar was a contractor's call about the plumbing.
She was overthinking.
She knew she was overthinking.
But the ring wasn't on her finger yet. There was no ring. There was just a promise made on a dusty floor with a bottle of cheap wine, and somehow that was more terrifying than any contract she'd ever signed.
"You're doing it again."
Dante's voice came from the bed. Low. Sleep-rough. She could hear the smile in it.
"Doing what?"
"Standing there like you're about to go to war."
She turned. He was sprawled across the sheets, shirtless, one arm behind his head. The morning light caught the angles of his face, the curve of his shoulders, the ink that covered his skin like armor.
"I'm not—" She stopped. Sighed. "Okay. Maybe a little."
He sat up. Slow. Deliberate. The sheet pooled around his waist.
"Come here."
"I need to get dressed."
"You need to sit down and tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
She stared at him.
"I hate when you do that."
"Do what?"
"Read me."
He grinned. It was infuriating. Charming. Both.
"Get over here, Sterling."
She went.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight. Dante shifted, pulling her against his chest, her back to his front. His arms wrapped around her. His chin rested on her shoulder.
"Talk."
She closed her eyes. Let herself breathe.
"It's real," she said.
"What is?"
"This. The engagement." She gestured vaguely at the air. "It's real."
"It was real three days ago too."
"That's not—" She huffed. "Three days ago I was caught up in the moment. The brownstone. The stars. You looking at me like I hung the moon. I wasn't thinking."
"And now you're thinking."
"Now I'm thinking."
Dante's hands found her waist. His thumbs traced slow circles against her skin.
"Okay," he said. "So think out loud."
She opened her eyes. Stared at the window. At the city sprawled beneath them like a kingdom waiting to be conquered.
"Nobody knows," she said.
"About us?"
"About the engagement. About the proposal. About any of it." She turned her head. Met his gaze. "We've been living together for weeks. Sleeping in the same bed. Showing up to meetings together. And nobody's said a word."
"They're afraid of you."
"They're curious. There's a difference." She pulled away. Stood. Paced to the window. "The families have been watching us. The Sterlings, the Falcones, every minor player in between. They see us together and they wonder. Is it real? Is it a power play? Is she sleeping with him to get access to his territory?"
"Are you?"
She shot him a look.
"Shut up."
He laughed. Held up his hands.
"I'm just asking."
"You know why I'm with you."
"I do." He stood. Walked toward her. "But they don't. And that's the problem."
She nodded.
"The press announcement is clean. Controlled. We put out a statement through our legitimate channels—something about a merger, a partnership, two families joining forces. It's deniable. It's safe. It lets us control the narrative."
"But?"
"But it lets the families find out through the media. Like gossip. Like we didn't think they were important enough to tell directly." She shook her head. "They'll never forgive that. It's an insult."
Dante leaned against the window frame. Crossed his arms.
"So we tell them directly."
"A formal proposal. In front of all the assembled families." She turned. Faced him. "It's a declaration of power. Of unity. Nobody can spin it. Nobody can pretend it isn't happening."
"Sounds good."
"It means putting our relationship on the table as a political fact before the hierarchy restructuring is finished." She held up a hand before he could interrupt. "We're not done. The council is still debating the new terms. The older families are still resisting the idea of a woman as an equal partner. If we announce the engagement now, we're giving them ammunition."
"Ammunition for what?"
"For saying I only got the position because I'm sleeping with you."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Anyone who says that—"
"Will say it anyway." She stepped closer. "They're already saying it. They've been saying it since we got back together. The difference is right now it's a rumor. A whisper. Something they say behind closed doors. The moment we make it official, it becomes a fact. A fact they can use."
"Use how?"
"To undermine me. To undermine us. To make me look like I'm not standing on my own two feet." She crossed her arms. "I've spent ten years building my reputation. Ten years proving I'm not just Theodore's niece. Ten years clawing my way to the top. And the moment I marry you—"
"Val."
"—the moment I become Mrs. Falcone, everything I built gets rewritten. I'm not Valentine Sterling anymore. I'm Dante's wife. The woman who got where she is because she fucked the right man."
Dante grabbed her. Hands on her shoulders. Eyes boring into hers.
"Stop."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're saying." His voice was low. Hard. "And I'm telling you to stop."
She closed her mouth.
"I don't care what they say," he said. "I don't care what they think. I don't care about their whispers or their rumors or their bullshit. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because by the end of this, every made man across the globe will know you're mine and I'm yours. Not because of politics. Not because of territory. Because you chose me. And I chose you. And there's not a fucking thing anyone can do about it."
She stared at him.
"That's very romantic."
"I'm a romantic guy."
"You're a butcher."
"Same thing."
She laughed. Couldn't help it.
He cupped her face in his hands. Thumbs brushed against her cheeks.
"I don't care which one we choose," he said. "Press release. Formal proposal. We can stand on a rooftop and scream it to the whole city. I don't care. I just want you to know that whatever we do, whatever we decide, I'm with you. Every step. Every vote. Every fight."
She closed her eyes.
"I know."
"Then stop spiraling."
"I'm not spiraling. I'm strategizing."
"Same thing."
She opened her eyes. Glared at him.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"No, I don't."
He kissed her. Soft. Gentle. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could.
When he pulled back, she was smiling.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"Okay. Let's do it."
"Do what?"
"The formal proposal. In front of the families." She stepped back. Grabbed her blouse from where she'd tossed it. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right. No rumors. No speculation. We stand in front of everyone and we make it clear."
Dante watched her dress. His eyes followed every movement.
"When?"
"Sunday. The council meets Sunday." She buttoned the blouse. Tucked it into her slacks. "We'll do it then."
"That's four days."
"Four days is plenty of time."
"For what?"
"To prepare. To plan. To get a ring." She paused. Looked at him. "We don't have a ring."
Dante walked to his dresser. Opened the top drawer. Pulled out a small box.
Black velvet.
Her breath caught.
"What is that?"
"Open it."
She took it. Hands trembling slightly. Opened the lid.
Inside was a ring. Platinum. Simple. Elegant. A single diamond, emerald-cut, set in a band of tiny black stones.
Val stared at it.
"When?"
"Three days ago." He stepped closer. "The night you proposed. After you fell asleep. I couldn't sleep. So I went out."
"You bought me a ring?"
"I bought you a ring."
"In the middle of the night?"
"I know a guy."
She laughed. It came out wet.
"Dante—"
"It's not your mother's. It's not Elena's. It's not anything except yours." He took the box from her hands. Pulled out the ring. Took her hand. "I had it made. The emerald cut because you're sharp. The black stones because you're dark. The platinum because you're unbreakable."
She looked at him.
"I'm not unbreakable."
"I know." He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. "That's what I'm for."
She stared at her hand. At the ring. At the way the light caught the diamond and the black stones and the platinum.
It was real.
It was finally real.
"You're going to make me cry," she said.
"I know."
"I hate crying."
"I know."
"You're a monster."
"I know." He pulled her into his arms. Held her tight. "But I'm your monster."
She buried her face in his chest. Breathed him in. Let herself feel it—all of it. The fear. The joy. The terror. The love.
"I love you," she said.
"I know."
"Say it back."
He pulled back. Looked at her. Those green eyes, soft and fierce and full of everything.
"I love you too, Val. More than I know how to say."
She kissed him.
And for a moment, the world outside disappeared.
No politics. No families. No hierarchy. Just them.
Just this.
----
The council meeting was four days away.
Val spent those four days in a blur of preparations. Meetings with her lieutenants. Strategy sessions with Dante's capos. Conversations with Vincent about how to present the engagement without triggering a war.
But it was the conversation with Dante's mother that surprised her most.
Rosalena Falcone had been dead for fifteen years. But Dante kept her memory alive in every corner of his life—in the food he cooked, in the songs he hummed, in the way he held his knife when he was cooking instead of killing.
Val had never met her, but she wished she had.
And then, on the second day of preparations, Dante came home with a box.
"What's that?"
"Something I found." He set it on the kitchen counter. "In the basement. My mother's things. I never went through them after she died."
Val opened the box.
Inside: photo albums. Letters. A jewelry box. And at the bottom, wrapped in tissue paper, a dress. Deep red. Silk. Timeless.
"She was going to wear this," Dante said. "To some family event. But she never got the chance."
Val touched the fabric. It was soft. Delicate.
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Because I want you to have it."
She looked up.
"I can't—"
"You can." He stepped closer. "I'm not trying to replace her. I'm not trying to pretend she didn't exist. But this dress, this memory—I want to share it with you. Because you're my future, Val. And she was my past. Both can exist."
She stared at the dress.
Then she nodded.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay." She smiled. "I'll wear it. To the proposal."
Dante grinned.
"She would have loved you."
"You think?"
"I know."
Val looked at the dress. At the ring on her finger. At the man standing in front of her.
She was ready.
She was finally ready.
----
By Saturday night, everything was set.
The council would meet at noon on Sunday. All the major families would be there. The Sterlings. The Falcones. The Russians. The Irish. The Poles. Everyone who mattered.
Val would walk in. Dante at her side. And she would announce their engagement. Not as a request. Not as a negotiation. As a fact.
She was Valentine Sterling. And she was marrying Dante Falcone.
Anyone who had a problem with that could take it up with her.
And if they didn't like her answer, they could take it up with him.
She sat on the balcony of the penthouse, staring at the skyline. The city was lit up like a constellation. Beautiful. Dangerous. Hers.
Dante came up behind her. Wrapped his arms around her.
"Can't sleep?"
"Never can."
He kissed her shoulder.
"Tomorrow's going to be fine."
"I know."
"You're not nervous?"
"I'm terrified." She turned. Faced him. "But I'm also ready. For the first time in my life, I'm ready."
He smiled.
"That's all I ever wanted."
"What?"
"For you to be ready. To let me in. To trust me."
She touched his face.
"I do trust you."
"I know."
"I'm just—"
"Learning."
"Yeah."
He pulled her close.
"Let's go to bed."
"What for?"
"Because tomorrow is going to be a long day. And you need your rest."
She laughed.
"You're such a gentleman."
"I'm a demon. But I'm your demon."
"Same thing."
"Same thing."
She took his hand. Let him lead her inside.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Tonight, she was exactly where she belonged.
Engaged.
In love.
Permanent.
And ready to tell the whole world.