The Plus-Size Maid’s Little Girl Mocked the Mafia Boss’s Walk Until He Turned Around and Lifted Her Into His Arms

Three months later.

The dark clouds that had hung over the Falcone estate for years had completely scattered, replaced by bright spring sunshine and the blooming flowers of the estate’s massive gardens.

The old, solemn rules of the house were entirely gone.

At four o’clock every afternoon, the kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh vanilla, baked sugar, and warm berry tarts.

Dante had converted the grand, empty west wing of the estate into a fully operational, state-of-the-art commercial bakery, naming it Rosa’s Haven. Rosa was no longer wearing a gray servant’s dress; she wore a stylish white chef’s coat that hugged her gorgeous, full curves perfectly, her hair tied back with a bright blue ribbon.

Dante sat at a wooden table in the middle of the kitchen, his laptop open, conducting high-level international board meetings via video conference. But he was dressed casually in a soft charcoal sweater, his hand holding a paintbrush as Sophia sat on his lap, painting blue flowers onto his arm with washable watercolors.

“Look, Mommy!” Sophia squealed, holding up Dante’s forearm, which was now completely covered in sloppy blue paint. “I made Dante into a sky!”

Rosa walked over from the marble counter, carrying a plate of hot, golden croissants. She shook her head softly, her green eyes shining with warmth.

“Sophia, leave the poor man alone,” Rosa teased gently, leaning down to place the plate on the table. “He’s trying to run an international logistics empire.”

Dante looked up, a rich, warm smile spreading across his handsome face—a smile that was now a permanent feature of his life. He reached out with his unpainted hand, grabbing Rosa by her soft waist, and pulled her down onto his second knee.

Rosa gasped softly, laughing as she landed comfortably against his broad chest.

“The empire can wait,” Dante murmured against her ear, kissing her soft cheek while Sophia giggled hysterically. “My chief baker’s croissants are far more important.”

“You’re terrible at delegating,” Rosa whispered, resting her hand against his neck, feeling the steady, calm beat of his heart.

“I delegate everything except my happiness,” Dante said, his dark eyes locking onto hers with deep, unconditional devotion. He reached into his sweater pocket and pulled out a small, dark velvet box.

Rosa’s breath hitched. Sophia clapped her hands together in excitement.

“Dante...” Rosa whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Dante opened the box, revealing a stunning, custom-designed gold ring featuring a soft, glowing emerald flanked by two small, brilliant diamonds.

“Rosa Bennett,” Dante said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “You brought life back into a dead house. You taught me how to love again, and you gave me a reason to breathe. I don't want you to just run a bakery here. I want you to run this house, my heart, and my life. Will you marry me?”

Rosa looked from the ring to Dante’s face, seeing the fierce, beautiful love shining in his eyes. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his in a sweet, passionate kiss that answered his question before she even spoke the words.