Epilogue
ALESSIO
One Year Later
I blame Superman for this, too.
Not directly, maybe, but if comic books hadn’t convinced half of America that putting on a suit could transform you into something better than you are, I wouldn’t be standing in this church sweating through Italian wool while my seven-year-old son tries not to drop our wedding rings.
The tux cost a fortune. My tailor’s kids are going to college thanks to this thing. The church is old Vegas money—all stained glass and guilt-inducing architecture. And I’m about to promise to love, honor, and cherish a woman who once told me I wasn’t that good in bed just to piss me off.
Joke’s on both of us, I guess.
Austin makes his way down the aisle like the fate of the world depends on not dropping those rings. At his side, Paolo’s daughter Isabelle is supposed to be scattering rose petals, but she’s mostly just throwing them straight up and giggling when they rain down on her head.
Kid’s got the right idea. If you’re going to do something ridiculous, at least enjoy it.
When Austin reaches me, he grins up with that gap-toothed smile that’s pure Nina. “Are you excited to marry my mommy?” he whispers, loud enough for the first three rows to hear.
My throat gets tight again. “Yeah, bambino. I am.”
“Good,” he says seriously, “because she really loves you. She told me.”
I ruffle his dark hair that looks just like mine. “I love her too. And you.”
Austin beams and takes his place beside me, mission accomplished.
The thing is, a year ago I would’ve bet my entire stake in the family business that I’d never be here.
Marriage was for suckers who hadn’t figured out that love is just biology’s way of tricking you into making stupid decisions.
People leave when things get hard. That’s the lesson my father taught me when he walked out, and thirty-five years of evidence hadn’t contradicted it.
Then Nina walked into my club and fucked up all my carefully constructed theories about relationships.
The music changes, and there she is.
Jesus Christ.
The dress is off-shoulder, hugging curves I’ve memorized with my hands but that still make my mouth go dry.
Her dark curls are pinned up in some complicated style that probably cost a fortune and took hours, but all I can think about is how I’m going to destroy it later.
How many bobby pins I’ll find scattered across our bedroom floor tomorrow morning.
She’s smiling, but there’s something in her eyes that mirrors what I’m feeling. Like she can’t quite believe we made it here either. Like any second someone’s going to point out that people like us don’t get happy endings.
Foster kid. Capo. Single mother. Killer.
Yeah, we’re a real Hallmark movie.
But when she reaches me and I take her hands, they’re steady. Mine are the ones shaking, which is fucking embarrassing. I’ve faced down Russian mobsters and cartel enforcers without flinching, but apparently being this happy is scarier than getting shot at.
Father Franco does his thing—dearly beloved, gathered here today, blah blah blah. I’m not really listening. I’m too busy watching the way the light through the stained glass turns Nina’s skin golden, the way she bites her lip when she’s trying not to cry.
When it’s time for the vows, my throat closes up completely.
“Alessio?” Father Franco prompts gently.
Right. Words. I’m supposed to say words.
“I...” I clear my throat, aware that my entire family is watching. Lorenzo and Mia, Dario and Paige, Matteo trying to look like he’s not getting emotional in the back row. Even my mother looks genuinely happy, which is saying something.
Nina squeezes my hands, and suddenly the words are there.
“I spent most of my life believing that letting someone in was weakness. That caring about someone meant giving them the power to destroy you.” I swallow hard.
“You destroyed me anyway. Completely wrecked every wall I built, every defense I had. And somehow, in all that rubble, you helped me build something better.”
She’s crying now, not even trying to hide it.
“I can’t promise to be easy to live with. I’m moody, possessive, and I’ll probably always be looking over my shoulder for threats. But I promise to love you with everything I have. To protect you and Austin with my life. To never run when things get hard.”
That last part is aimed at the ghost of my father, wherever he is. A middle finger to the man who taught me all the wrong lessons about love.
Nina’s vows are quieter, steadier, but no less devastating.
“You saved me,” she says simply. “You saved me from the life I thought I had to accept. From believing that struggle was all I deserved. You showed me that it’s okay to want more. To demand more. To be more.”
She glances at Austin, who’s grinning so wide I’m worried his face might crack.
“You gave us a family. A real one. The kind neither of us ever had growing up.” Her voice breaks a little. “And I promise to stand beside you through whatever comes next. The good, the bad, and the probably illegal.”
That gets a laugh from the crowd. Father Franco looks mildly concerned, but he’s been doing mob weddings for twenty years. He knows when not to ask questions.
When he finally says “You may kiss the bride,” I don’t hold back. I kiss Nina like we’re alone, like the entire family isn’t watching, like Father Franco isn’t clearing his throat pointedly.
Austin makes a gagging noise that breaks the spell, and everyone laughs as we head back down the aisle as husband and wife.
The reception is at Lorenzo’s place—a massive estate that makes my penthouse look modest. The whole family’s here, plus some associates who clean up nice when the occasion calls for it. Security's patrolling the perimeter too, because even on my wedding day, we don't take chances.
There’s enough food to feed a small army, which is good because Italians treat eating like a competitive sport.
Nina and I make the rounds, accepting congratulations and threats disguised as well-wishes (“You hurt her, I’ll kill you” seems to be the theme from her new girlfriends in the family).
Quinn hugs Nina so tight I'm worried she might crack a rib, while Paolo grins and claps me on the back. It’s still weird that they met at the aquarium months before any of us knew they’d end up family, but I’m glad Nina had someone she already trusted when I dragged her into this world.
“She’s good for you,” Lorenzo says when he corners me by the bar. “Keeps you grounded.”
“She keeps me from doing stupid shit,” I correct.
“Same thing.” He claps me on the shoulder.
When the DJ announces our first dance, I pull Nina onto the floor gratefully. Finally, a moment where it’s just us.
Except it’s not, because she’s watching Austin chase Dario’s twins around the edge of the dance floor, laughing like the healthy, normal kid he is now. The surgery worked perfectly. No more medications, no more restrictions. Just a scar on his chest that he thinks makes him look tough.
“I’m going to change his last name when I change mine,” Nina says, pulling my attention back to her. “We should all be DeLucas.”
An ache I can’t quite name rises up. Austin’s been calling me Dad for a while now, but making it legal, making us a real family on paper as well as in practice...
“Yeah?” I clear my throat.
“Yeah.” She smiles up at me. “We’re a package deal, remember? All or nothing.”
I spin her out and pull her back, earning approving noises from the Italian grandmothers who are judging everything about this reception.
“You know what we should do?” Nina says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We should buy that cabin by Lake Tahoe. The one we saw last month.”
“The one you said looked like a serial killer’s vacation home?”
“It has character,” she protests. “And Austin loved the tire swing.”
“Austin also loves gas station hot dogs. His judgment is questionable.”
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest that should probably concern me. This is what my life is now—planning family vacations and arguing about real estate instead of wondering which Russian wants me dead this week.
The Bratva's been laying low since we hit their operation. War's not over, but they're too busy regrouping to cause us trouble lately.
“We could go there for holidays,” she continues. “Teach Austin to fish. Have actual family traditions that don’t involve someone getting shot at.”
“That’s setting the bar pretty high.”
“We’ll work our way up to it.”
The song ends, but I don’t let her go. Around us, other couples are joining us on the dance floor. Matteo’s sitting at a table looking uncomfortable with all the emotions, Luca’s hitting on anything in a dress, and my mother is watching us with a soft smile.
It’s a perfect moment, which should make me nervous. In my experience, perfect moments are just the universe setting you up for a sucker punch. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe you grab the perfect moments when you can, hold them tight, and deal with the sucker punches when they come.
“Hey,” Nina says, pulling my attention back to her. “Where’d you go?”
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.”
“Smart ass.”
She grins. “Your smart ass, now. Legal and everything.”
And fuck if that doesn’t sum up everything I never knew I wanted. Nina being mine, officially, permanently. Austin being my son in every way that matters. This family we’ve built from the ashes of our fucked-up childhoods.
My father walked away from this life because he couldn’t handle the weight of it. But standing here with Nina in my arms, watching our son terrorize the other kids with water guns someone foolishly provided, I realize he had it backwards.
It’s not the weight of this life that breaks you.
It’s trying to carry it alone.
“I love you,” I tell her, the words coming as naturally as breathing now.
“I know,” she says, then laughs at my expression. “I love you too, you possessive bastard.”
And that’s us in a nutshell. Not a fairy tale, not even close. Just two damaged people who figured out that their broken pieces fit together perfectly.
A family, messy and real, but ours.
THE END
Thank you for reading Mafia Devil’s Secret Baby!