“Rory.” He shook his head. “Do you know why I willingly risked my life, walking into that casino stripped of weapons, even though the odds of me ever walking back out again were almost non-existent?”
I bit my trembling lip. “Why?”
“Because there is no me without you.”
The breath caught in my lungs, but he pressed on.
“And now there’s no me without Luca, too, and whoever else might decide to join us down the road.”
Watery laughter was pulled from my chest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It’s going to be a loooooooong time before I’m able to forget the all-out torture of childbirth to even consider doing it again.”
“The point is”—Gio’s forehead dropped to mine—“if you die, then I die too.”
My hands lifted, my fingers combing through the silky tresses of his hair. “Careful,” I warned. “That sounds an awful lot like something John would say.”
His warm breath fanned across my lips. “He represents the part of me you’ve always deserved. I wish I could have dug deep and found him sooner.”
“He’s here now—both of you are—and that’s all that matters.”
“He belongs only to you, to our children. The rest of the world can never know he exists.”
“Our little secret,” I whispered before I closed the gap between us, fusing our mouths together in a kiss.
Those seven years on the run had been hard—working ninety-hour weeks between three jobs just to scrape enough money together to survive—but every minute spent struggling was worth it, if it meant I could find myself here. In the arms of the husband I’d once despised, who had miraculously evolved into the man I loved, with our precious baby boy, the product of that love, snoozing peacefully nearby.
Never in a million years would I have believed this arranged mafia marriage could find its happy ending.
But you wouldn’t hear me complaining.
Epilogue
Gio
Three Years Later
Family.
It had been instilled in me at an early age that family was everything, but it wasn’t until I had one of my own that I truly understood what that meant.
Growing up, being groomed to one day become Don, fatherhood was an expectation, not a choice. It fell to me to secure the bloodline for the next generation, and I viewed it as a chore—a mundane task you grudgingly completed.
Maybe my lack of interest stemmed from my father being very hands-off. My formative years were spent being raised by nannies rather than by the man who played a hand in my creation. It’s entirely possible his disinterest in his offspring rubbed off on me.
Despite all that, my world was forever changed the minute Luca took his first breath. It was as if my brain had been rewired, its only focus to protect and nurture the vulnerable little life that depended solely on me for its survival.
But I didn’t know the first thing about being a father. Thankfully, Matteo was there. My little brother became the perfect role model, offering guidance and support while I navigated those uncharted waters.
Three years later, I was proud to say I’d gone from novice to expert. I could change diapers blindfolded. I could fold a double stroller one-handed. And the mack daddy of them all, I could install car seats with ease.
And now, it was time for me to pass down what I’d learned to the newest Bellini dad.
Enzo and Allie’s road to parenthood had been full of heartbreak, but now, their dreams had finally come true thanks to Gemma’s extreme selflessness. And everyone was beyond eager to meet the newest addition to our clan.
Rory bounced our youngest son, eleven-month-old Raphael—or Rafe, for short—on her hip as she spoke to Summer. “Did they say what their ETA was?”
My sister-in-law checked her phone. “They reached the city limits forty-five minutes ago, so they should be here any second.”
“Ugh. The wait is killing me! Remind me again why we didn’t all pile into the jet and go to Indy the minute they texted Gemma was in labor?”
