Scorned In Vernice

Chapter Five : The Proposal In Venice

Bianca pov)

The night had already been perfect, but Matteo had a way of making every moment feel even more magical than the last. The string quartet played softly in the background as laughter floated across the ballroom, the scent of fresh roses and candle wax filling the air. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm golden glow across the marble floors, and the gentle flicker of candlelight danced across the faces of our guests, reflecting their excitement. Venice had never looked more enchanting, and somehow, it mirrored the flutter in my chest perfectly.

I was still holding his hand, swaying to the music, when he leaned in close. His eyes was dark, intense, yet full of warmth and locked with mine, and suddenly, the world around us seemed to fade. Every laugh, every clink of a glass, every note of the violin seemed to dissolve until there was only him and me, standing in the middle of this magical evening.

“Bianca,” he murmured, his voice just low enough for only me to hear. My pulse skipped, and a shiver ran down my spine. I smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to calm the sudden tremor in my hands.

“Yes?” I whispered back, my voice unsteady, betraying my excitement.

He took a deep breath, letting go of my hand for a moment, only to retrieve something small from his pocket, a velvet box. My heart froze. The familiarity of it made my chest tighten. This was the same box that had held the first promise, the first moment we had sealed our love, and now, it held something far bigger.

The room seemed to quiet as Matteo stepped onto the small stage set up for speeches. Guests shifted, sensing something extraordinary was about to unfold. My stomach twisted in anticipation. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the emotions he tried so hard to contain love, hope, and a vulnerability that only I had ever glimpsed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his deep voice steady and commanding, yet softer than ever, “tonight is not just a celebration of love. It is a promise. A promise of a future I cannot imagine without the woman standing here with me.”

I felt tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. The warmth of the crowd, the music, the city of Venice itself. it all seemed suspended in this one perfect moment. Clara’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with excitement, and I could feel the collective breath of our friends and family held in anticipation.

Matteo knelt, yes, he knelt right there, in front of the entire room, the velvet box open in his hand. A diamond ring glimmered, catching the soft glow of the chandeliers and reflecting a thousand tiny sparks like fireflies.

“Bianca Donald,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine, “you are my everything. My partner, my best friend, the love of my life and everything I ever prayed and wish for. Will you”

He paused deliberately, letting the tension stretch just long enough to make my heart pound so loudly I feared everyone could hear it.

“Please be my wife?”

The words hung in the air like music. For a moment, I was speechless, frozen in the beauty of what was happening. My chest swelled, tears spilling freely down my cheeks. All the years, all the struggles, all the lonely nights seemed to melt away in this one instant.

“Yes!” I finally exclaimed, my voice trembling, thick with emotion. “Yes, Matteo! Of course, I will marry you!”

The room erupted in applause, laughter, and cheers. Clara jumped up and down, screaming her congratulations, tears of joy streaming down her face. I laughed through my tears, feeling a happiness so pure it left me dizzy and lightheaded.

Matteo slipped the ring onto my finger, and I marveled at its beauty. It was more than just a piece of jewelry, it was a promise, a symbol of everything we had built together, of the life we were about to begin. I admired the cushion cut diamond surrounded by tiny sapphires Matteo’s favorite color. It sparkled brilliantly, a beacon of our love.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me close as if the world might try to snatch me away at any moment. The warmth of his embrace made me feel like the only person alive, untouchable in a bubble of happiness and certainty.

“And,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “one day, I hope you we be the mother to our children. I want a home filled with laughter, love, and memories with you. A family with you, Bianca, because you deserve nothing less.”

I felt my heart swell to impossible heights. “I will, Matteo,” I whispered, sobbing softly into his chest. “I want that too. More than anything.”

Clara squeezed my hand tightly, her grin contagious. “You two are perfect together. I swear, I’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.”

I laughed through the tears, brushing them away and feeling the warmth of Venice and our love combine in a way that was almost unreal. Matteo wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close, his thumb caressing the back of my hand.

“Shall we continue this dance, Mrs. DeLuca?” he asked, his voice teasing but tender.

“Yes,” I said, my own voice gaining strength. “Let’s dance.”

We moved onto the dance floor together, weaving through the guests who joined us, their faces smiling, some watching us with envy, others with pure joy. I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat matching mine. “Do you remember the first day we met?” he asked softly.

I smiled up at him, my heart skipping. “How could I forget? You were impossible to ignore.”

We laughed together, twirling and moving as one. Venice outside the windows glowed under the moonlight, the canals shimmering like molten silver. I caught glimpses of the gondolas passing by in the distance, and the reflection of the city in the water reminded me of the twists of fate that had brought me here to this very moment, safe in Matteo’s arms.

But as I smiled, as I laughed, and as I twirled with the man I loved, a shadow of unease crept at the edge of my mind, faint but insistent. A fleeting thought, quickly brushed aside: that sometimes, even perfect nights have cracks, and not every heart in the room would be honest.

For now, though, there was only him, only us, only the sound of music and laughter mingling with the lapping of water outside the Venetian windows. And I clung to that feeling, letting it fill me completely.

Because tonight, in Venice, I was loved. And nothing could touch me.

But little did I know, the happiness I clung to so tightly would soon be challenged by truths I never imagined, truths that would test every heartbeat, every promise, every ounce of trust I had in the world I thought I knew.