Hating The Mafia King

9: Startled

My heart is racing a mile a minute, and my eyes are wide in shock. I couldn't move or utter a single word as my mind was buzzing with countless possibilities as to why Richie would propose to me. I'm freaking out and feeling completely out of control. Something doesn't feel right about this situation. It's like a trap, and I can't shake the feeling that Richie is up to something. This feels like a Mafia scheme because Richie has no clue who I really am. He can't just walk up and propose out of the blue like this. It just doesn't make any sense.

My eyes are still locked on Richie's, and he flashes me a smile as he slides the ring onto my finger without waiting for an answer. "You make me feel complete," he says, kissing my hand before standing up. The crowd erupts into applause, whispers, and adoring sounds, but that's not the main deal right now; it's my mind. My mind is consumed with one question: why on earth did Richie Maranzano, my greatest enemy, just propose to me?

Richie's gaze fixed on me, his smile unwavering as he gently cups my face. His eyes search mine, and he softly urges, "Say something."

I couldn't say a word. I'm at a loss for words. What can I possibly say at this moment?

The air hangs heavy with tension as Richie leans in for a kiss, but instinctively, I pull away. "I have to go," I blurt out, my voice filled with a mix of confusion and uncertainty. Without looking back, I walk out of the hall, leaving Richie behind.

***

"You want to do what!" Rebecca's voice echoed through the room moments after I arrived home. I hadn't mentioned anything about the proposal to her beforehand, but now the news is all over the internet. "No. No," she says, shaking her head in disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding."

I sink into the armchair, my face buried in my hands, trying to gather the courage to face her. Slowly, I turn around to meet her gaze, only to be met with that look that says, 'You better start talking, young lady.'

I let out a groan, burying my face back into the couch. "Will you stop looking at me like that?" I plead, hoping to escape the intensity of the moment.

But Rebecca isn't backing down. She's determined to get answers. "Oh no, I will keep looking at you like that until you start talking," she insists, her voice a mix of concern and curiosity. It's clear that she won't let me evade this conversation any longer.

"What? Seriously, Rebecca, what did you want me to say at that moment? I was completely stunned," I mumble into the couch, my voice filled with frustration.

Rebecca shrugs sarcastically, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Uhm, I don't know. Maybe something like, 'Yes, Richie, I will marry you,' or at least a smile since you didn't want to talk. But no, you didn't do a thing. Instead, you ran out like a chicken."

I can't help but roll my eyes at her comment. "You are such a friend, Rebecca. I don't know if I'm lucky or cursed to have you," I say, my tone laced with a mix of annoyance and affection.

"Lucky is the best word to use," she replies, sitting down next to me, offering comfort through her presence. One thing about being friends with Rebecca is that you should never take her words too seriously. She's always been a bit of a goofball.

"But seriously, what's going on with you and Richie?" she asks, wrapping her arms around me in a comforting gesture.

Her question brings a mix of emotions to the surface, and I find myself searching for the right words to explain. "I don't know" I respond

"Come on, there's gotta be something. Why do you hate Richie so much?"

"I already told you. I don't like his behavior towards women," I reply, hoping to leave it at that.