Claimed By The Mafia Don (Ariella and Asher) novel Chapter 313

ARIELLA

My throat tightened as emotion rose inside me. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms tightly around him, holding him as if I could freeze that moment in time. Then I kissed him harder, deeper, pouring everything I couldn’t put into words into that kiss.

I didn’t think language could carry the weight of what I felt. So instead, I hoped he could feel it in my heartbeat… in my touch… in the way I pressed myself against him as if I never wanted to let go. He deepened the kiss for a moment, his hands sliding up my back, pressing me closer against him as if he understood everything I couldn’t say.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing slightly heavier, his eyes softer than I had seen them since we came back here.

“So… are you ready to recover, redecorate, or renovate this bedroom?” he asked. “Whatever you want… although, remember, I have to agree.”

I lightly tapped his nose, smiling. “Okay. What did you have in mind?” I asked.

Standing beside me, he gestured toward the colour samples and palettes he had placed along the walls. He began explaining what he thought we should do, how he wanted to maintain some of the darker palettes, and how he imagined balancing them with softer tones, as well as what kind of structure he envisioned for the room. Then he asked me what I would like.

I tilted my head slightly. “Tell me your full vision first.”

So he did. He talked about changing the bed, replacing it with something bigger and more structured. He mentioned adding more framed pictures of the family, placing a television in the bedroom, adjusting the lighting, and shifting some of the furniture to make the space feel less… rigid. He kept talking, moving around the room as he described each detail, his hands gesturing like he was already seeing it come to life.

Finally, he stopped and looked at me.

“Now… what do you think?”

I told him my ideas, what I would change, what I would soften, and what I would add to make it feel warmer. We quickly agreed on one major thing: the bathroom.

We both decided to renovate it completely. Make it bigger. More open. And according to him, give me things he believed I would love. Things he later said I deserved. Of course, I ended up getting far more out of that bathroom renovation deal than he did… but he didn’t seem to mind. Not even a little.

Eventually, we both agreed that we would need a professional eye. Someone who could take our ideas and make them work without turning the entire project into chaos. I had to admit he was right. I had never handled something this big before, and the last thing I wanted was to completely ruin it.

After we settled on that, he told me he would talk to William and have him prepare a list of potential designers and contractors. And, of course, he made it very clear that I would be the one choosing who we worked with.

When I mentioned that I wanted to go over a few changes for the rest of the house as well, he gave me exactly the answer I expected.

“Whatever you want to do with the house,” he said, “you’re the queen. Do whatever you want with it. But… if you keep me in the loop, I’d love that. Just so I don’t walk into my house one day and not recognise it.”

He paused before adding, almost casually, “Money isn’t the problem. There is no limit. Whatever you want isn’t the problem. Just keep me informed.”

“Of course, I will,” I said, smiling slightly. “But there’s one thing I want to talk about.”

His jaw tightened.

“I guess you’re right,” he continued quietly. “He doesn’t deserve to be placed everywhere in this house. Not after everything he tried to destroy… me… us…” His voice dropped even lower. “And if he had known you were pregnant back then… he would have destroyed our son’s life too.”

My chest tightened painfully at his words.

“So like I said,” he finished, exhaling slowly, “just don’t mess with my mom’s picture.”

His voice softened in a way that immediately made my heart squeeze.

“She was the best of them,” he said quietly. “My grandparents were assholes anyway.”

A small, sad smile touched his lips before he looked at me again.

“You didn’t get to meet my mom; she died before I got the chance to introduce you,” he murmured. “She was lovely. Sweet. Gentle.” His eyes softened even more as he added, “She would have loved you.”

The words hit deeper than he probably realised. I stepped closer to him, wrapping my arms around his waist without saying anything. Sometimes there weren’t words big enough for moments like this. Sometimes, holding each other was the only language that mattered.