Zahara Spada
“Oh no! No, no. We’re not done.” Massimo chuckles as he lowers me to the floor. “We’re finished with the setup of the brand. Just not with the actual branding.”
I’m barely holding myself together. My vision is blurry as I watch him lower to one knee. There’s a mischievous smile curling his lips as he reaches inside his pocket and raises his hand, holding a ring out to me.
“Zahara Veronese, you are the air I breathe and the light that allows me to see. I love you more than anything, and I need the world to know it. You are already my friend. My savior. The love of my life. But now, will you please be my wife?”
“You asked me already, silly.” I sniff. “And I said yes.”
“Without the ring, it didn’t count. So this is a do-over.” He lifts the ring higher.” It’s platinum, of cou
