"I upgraded. These have a safety release." I bite my lip. "In case things get... intense."
"Always thinking ahead." His eyes darken with promise. "I'll enjoy putting these to use."
I hand him the second package. This one matters the most.
Dom unwraps it slowly, revealing the simple silver frame. Inside is the grainy black and white image from my recent appointment. My first sonogram. He stares at it, uncharacteristically silent.
"There's something else you should know.” I lean over to look at the picture with him. "Look closely."
His eyes scan the image, brow furrowing in concentration. Then his head snaps up, eyes wide with question.
“Are there two?”
"Twins," I confirm. "The doctor confirmed it yesterday."
Dom's expression transforms into something I've never seen before. Pure, unguarded joy. He sets the frame down carefully before pulling me into his arms.
"Twins," he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. His hand moves to my stomach, protective and reverent. "Two Vitales."
"God help us all," I laugh.
"You've given me everything," he murmurs against my hair. "A family. A future."
At this moment, all my doubts about our unconventional life fade away. Two babies. One criminal empire. And a love that defies all the rules.
Several hours later, I stand before a mirror, smoothing my hands over the emerald green dress that Dom insisted brings out my eyes.
In less than an hour, we'll be heading to Don Ferraza's mansion for the La Corona Christmas gathering. My first official appearance as Dom's fiancée.
"They already like you," Dom says, appearing behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, his hands resting protectively over where our twins grow. "Stop worrying."
Easy for him to say. He was born into this world. I spent my career trying to dismantle it.
"I shot a federal agent two weeks ago and now I'm celebrating Christmas with the most powerful mafia families in New York," I say, leaning back against him. "Forgive me if I'm a little anxious."
Dom kisses my neck. "You're overthinking it. Besides, Elena has practically adopted you already."
He's right about that. Last week, Elena insisted on taking me shopping, declaring my wardrobe "too FBI" for family functions.
Isabella and Gabriella joined us, and I was surprised by how quickly they welcomed me into their circle.
Over lunch at a restaurant that definitely wasn't in my FBI expense account range, they shared stories about navigating life as women connected to La Corona.
"The first time is always intimidating," Isabella had confided, squeezing my hand. "I was terrified when I married Roman. But they protect their own fiercely."
Gabriella nodded in agreement. "And the Christmas party is actually fun. Don Ferraza goes all out, live music, incredible food. He’s as old as dirt, but he knows how to have a good time."
“That’s my dad you’re talking about,” Isabella says, shaking her head. “He wasn’t that fun when I was growing up.”
I used to pity women like Elena, Isabella, and Gabriella. I always assumed they were victims of circumstance, lacking agency in their own lives.
How wrong I was.
These women are forces of nature. Gabriella has a law degree and works for both the Calabresi and Monti family businesses.
Elena volunteers at several children’s charities.
Isabella launched a boutique fashion label. They're educated, opinionated, and fiercely independent.
