The evening has unfolded beautifully. My gaze travels across the room, landing on Dominic. Even from a distance, the sight of him in his dinner suit makes my breath catch. We nearly kept our guests waiting earlier, thanks to how devastatingly handsome he looked stepping out of the dressing room. Now he stands surrounded by his capos, commanding the space with quiet authority.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Dominic turns. Adriano is speaking, but Dominic doesn’t hear a word. His focus is entirely on me. That smile—disarming, intimate—reminds me just how lucky I am. Mischief sparks. I reach for my phone, already plotting how to tease him.
I can’t wait to be alone again—to finish what we started earlier, husband. Just the sight of you in that suit has me aching with desire.
I press send. Dominic doesn’t break eye contact as he slips his phone from his breast pocket. One glance at the screen, and then his gaze locks with mine. His face flushes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. My breath catches as he drags his thumb slowly across his lower lip, a gesture that leaves my mouth dry.
Without a word, he steps away from his men. Dante calls after him, but Dominic doesn’t respond. His stride is purposeful, closing the distance between us. Dante follows his line of sight, grins knowingly, and turns back to Adriano’s conversation.
I should probably have my head examined. Who would imagine arousal could flare between contractions? Yet here I am, caught in the intensity of my husband’s gaze—focused entirely on me, as if no one else exists.
“Elle?” Serafina’s voice startles me. She’s suddenly at my side. I hadn’t noticed her approach. “Why is your husband looking at you like that?”
Still watching Dominic, I murmur, “Don’t know what you mean.” Her expression mirrors Dante’s grin. “Hmm… if you say so. But from the look of it, that man wants to devour you.”
I’m spared from answering when Dominic stops in front of me. His hand brushes my bare shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
“You’re asking for trouble, Angel,” he says, voice low and rough. His thumb lingers against my skin. “Cold, Angel?” he teases, though he knows exactly what his touch does to me.
Serafina’s eyes flick between Dominic and me. She shakes her head, about to leave, when a sudden gasp escapes my lips. Warm fluid rushes down my thigh beneath the lavender satin dress. Shock freezes me. For a heartbeat, my mind refuses to register what’s happened—until the pain grips me, sharp and undeniable. A cry tears free.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” Dominic’s voice is urgent as I clutch his hand, unable to speak through the contraction. My gaze drops to the puddle forming at my feet.
“Her water broke, Dominic,” Serafina says quickly. “The baby is coming.”
Her words barely reach me. Dominic’s shout cuts through the room. “Dante!” In an instant, I’m lifted into his arms. Panic etches his usually stoic face, and I cringe at the thought of his dinner suit soaking through.
“What’s going on, Dom? Is Elle okay?” Dante calls, already moving.
“We need to get to the hospital—it’s time,” Dominic answers, his voice tight. Dante races ahead to bring the car around. Guests have fallen silent, all eyes on us. Serafina hurriesoff, promising to grab my hospital bag—the one she helped me pack yesterday.
Pain loosens its grip just enough for me to speak. I reach for Dominic’s face, trying to steady him. “We’re finally going to meet our baby.”
His eyes soften, but his voice breaks. “I should be reassuring you, Angel. I can’t stand seeing you in pain. I wouldn’t survive if anything happened to either of you.”
“Nothing will happen,” I whisper firmly.
He presses a kiss to my forehead, tightening his hold as Dante pulls the black SUV to a stop at the mansion’s front steps. Dominic carries me inside, Serafina rushing out with my bag. Her husband follows close behind. “We’ll be right behind you,” she promises, sliding the bag into the trunk.
Chapter 53
~Dominic~
It’s tearing my heart out, watching my Angel suffer. Six relentless hours of this. They thought they could keep me out of the room while my woman fought through pain? Not a chance. If all I can do is wipe her brow and hold her hand, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.
So what if she crushes every bone in my hand with her death grip? Each contraction, each cry — it’s the only way I know how to share her pain.
Elle insisted on delivering at Brooklyn Hospital. She refused to change her obstetrician, and I respected that. By now, Dario has the entire place locked down. After the donation we made, the hospital bent over backwards to meet our requests. No other patient is allowed on this floor. Only Elle.
I won’t risk my family. My men control every entrance and exit. And still, word reached me that someone tried to dig for information about my wife. She may still be a target. I can’t tell her — not now, not when she’s vulnerable and carrying our child. So I keep it to myself, and I stay here, where I belong. At her side.
“Okay, Mrs. Vitelli, it’s time. Your baby’s head is right here. One big push,” the doctor urges from the foot of the bed. Elle’s grip on my hand tightens like a vice. Her teeth clench, her eyes squeeze shut, her face a mask of sheer determination. She summons every ounce of strength, and with a scream that rips through the room, silence follows—then the piercing cry of our child fills the air.
My chest constricts with emotion. I lift Elle’s hand to my lips, then lean down to kiss her mouth. The doctor beams. “Congratulations, you have a boy.” She places the tiny, swaddledform into Elle’s arms. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Elle smiles through exhaustion as she cradles him, her joy radiating.
Our son quiets only when he latches onto her breast. I reach out, brushing my fingers through his thick, silky black hair. “He’s perfect, Angel. Thank you for giving me a family.” Her eyes glisten. “I love you, Dominic.” “Love you too, Angel,” I whisper back.
Later, once Elle has been tended to and our baby fed, I force myself to leave her room. I pause at the doorway, taking in the sight of her sleeping peacefully, our son swaddled in the cot beside her, his tiny features relaxed in slumber. The vision of them together makes my heart ache with love. Closing the door softly so as not to disturb them, I walk down the corridor past the nurse’s station, carrying the weight of joy and gratitude in every step.
