Hating The Mafia King

8: The Proposal

I feel like I tend to overthink a lot, just the way I'm doing right now. I don't think Richie will kill me, I mean he wouldn't ask me to be his date just so he could kill me, would he? I don't think so. If there is anything I know about Mafia Kings is that they never let their true self come out to reality. Richie will not hurt me in public, I just know it.... But if that's the case, why did he ask me to be his date?

As we pull up to the venue, my heart races with anticipation. I reach out and take Richie's outstretched hand, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Stepping out of the car, I briefly consider refusing his help, but something inside me changes my mind.

Richie places his hand on my exposed back, guiding me towards the entrance. I can't help but feel a tingle as his touch lingers on my skin. "You have smooth skin," he whispers, his voice low and husky.

I roll my eyes playfully and retort, "Your hand isn't meant for my back, but my waist."

A mischievous smile dances on Richie's lips. "I know," he admits, his fingers gently caressing my spine. "But I want to feel your skin under my fingertips."

A shiver runs down my spine as our eyes lock. I try to resist the magnetic pull between us, but his touch is undeniably electrifying. I should be resisting, fighting against these stupid feelings, but my body betrays me. Instead, I find myself strangely comforted and at ease with his hand on my skin.

We walked into the venue, and Richie and I strolled around, acknowledging the people who were there. Honestly, this dinner party was nothing like I expected. I thought it would be a fun gathering with a bunch of coworkers, but it seems to be a completely different vibe. I don't even see any of our colleagues here. I guess Richie invited nobody but me.

As Richie and I make our way through the crowd of reporters and photographers, I can't help but notice Brad, his beefy bodyguard, giving me these intense stares. It's like he's got his eyes glued to me as if I'm some kind of thief or troublemaker. Maybe he's still suspicious from when he caught me snooping around the other night.

I quickly avert my gaze, not wanting to give him any reason to think I'm up to something. Tonight, I plan on keeping my eyes on Richie and making sure that I find who his dealers are. I know that Richie is into some sort of illegal activity or worse. I just want to know what exactly it is and how I can expose him and ruin his life. That's all I want for tonight but seems like none of his dealers are here yet. I guess Richie is smart enough to not invite them here, well that's okay because if I can't get their information today, I can get it from work, I'm sure he has something there.

After greeting almost everyone, I got tired and bored so I excused myself and made my way to an empty table. As I approached the chair and sat down, I spotted a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. I couldn't resist grabbing one and taking a sip while scrolling through Instagram. I came across a photo of Richie and me, posted by a blogger. The picture was taken when we were walking into the hall.

As I read the caption, I couldn't help but sigh in disbelief and disgust. I should have known something like this was going to happen. The caption says, "Richard Maranzano's new flavor."

"Bloody bastard!" I muttered to myself, quickly scrolling past the photo, only to be bombarded by another picture of Richie and me. My curiosity got the best of me, so I tapped on the comment section, which I really wish I didn't because what caught my attention instantly pissed me off. Some people need to be banned from Instagram.

Just when I was feeling frustrated, I heard Richie's voice behind me saying, "You shouldn't be looking at that."

I turn to look at Richie and reply, "Why not?"

"Because paparazzi are pigs, they talk nonsense, and idiots like them comment on the shitty lies they write or post."

"Ohh," I say not wanting to add up to the conversation. Being here with Richie is enough torture for me, I can't exceed that torture with a conversation.

"Anyways, you wanna get something to drink?" he asks

I raise my champagne flute and reply, "I already have a drink, thanks."

He leans in closer and whispers, "Okay, well, you shouldn't drink too much because what I have for you next requires your full attention."

Curiosity piqued and I asked, "What do you mean?"

A mischievous smirk appears on Richie's face as he takes a sip of my champagne. With a theatrical flair, he announces, "Attention everyone, may I have everyone's attention, please."

I gaze at him, my brows furrowing in confusion, wondering why he suddenly craves everyone's attention. The hall falls silent, giving Richie the stage to continue speaking. "I am Richard Maranzano, as many of you know," he begins. "And I am here with my assistant, whom I absolutely adore, and would like to make an announcement about."

My eyes lock with his, seeking an explanation for his words.

"Actually, it's not an announcement, but a proposal," he reveals with a smile, his gaze filled with passion as if he's trying to captivate me completely. "I have a proposal to make, and I hope we can all celebrate it tonight."

His eyes lock with mine, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "Rachel, from the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I fell head over heels in love with you, and I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else."

My heart skips a beat as I stand there, frozen in the moment. Richie then drops to one knee, a glimmering ring appearing from his pocket. "Rachel Green, will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?"