Epilogue Selene
One Year Later
The sun sets beautifully, casting a molten orange glow against the floor-to-ceiling windows. A soft Mexican tune filters from the hidden speaker, sending a surge of adrenaline through me.
I hold my breath.
My senses sharpen, eyes watching my sexy opponent like a hawk…waiting. The moment I sense a blow, I swiftly side-step him, a proud smile tugging at my lips. But the smile soon wipes away when his other fist suddenly appears, landing a light jab to my side.
“Fuck.” I roll my eyes when I see the smug grin on his face.
“You seem…distracted.” He returns his hands to his sides, flexing his tattooed chest as he does so. My eyes trail the teasing line of sweat down his neck to the delicious lines of his abs. I swear he has gotten more toned, more ripped. More…delicious.
One year of marriage hasn’t changed a damn thing. Not the heat that tingles my body anytime I see him. Not how fucking turned on I am when he flexes that chest during training. And sure as hell not the way he manhandles me in bed.
I scoff, jerking myself back to reality. Of course, I’m distracted. Who wouldn’t be?
“Well, if you put on some damn clothes, maybe I would see that you were faking an attack with the first blow.”
He tilts his head and then laughs. A deep, throaty laughter that shakes his shoulders. I huff, blowing a tendril out of my face as a familiar calm blooms in my chest. That’s what his laughter does to me.
“You won’t win a single battle if you’re distracted by the slightest things.” Smirking, he shuffles on his feet, adjusting his stance, and my eyes are instantly drawn to his pants.
His grey joggers hang low, revealing streaks of hair trailing down his V-line and disappearing below…into a…thick, hard cock.
A hungry lump forms in my throat as I stare at his bulging dick print. That is definitely not the slightest thing!
“Always keep your eyes…” he instructs, a glimmer of amusement in his voice as he emphasizes his last word, “…on your opponent, Tesoro (Sweetheart). Not above, not below.”
His words are followed by a low rumble as he slowly steps towards me, eyes pinning me with a knowing glint. Like he knows how the night will end.
Delicious goosebumps raise the hair on my body when he reaches me. I press my lips together, my breath faltering as I feel the heat radiating off his body.
“I try, but sometimes it’s a…hard…thing to do.” I struggle to maintain composure as my eyes drift toward his pants.
He cocks an amused brow, and before I know it, his legs shoot out to rake mine, tackling me to the ground. I fall with a surprised yelp, his arms winding around me as we hit the soft mat.
“You’re ogling me again,” he groans, nestling his nose in the crook of my neck. His stubble lightly scratches my chin, but I’m used to it already. He’s decided to keep most of his beard because, in his words, it makes him look more like a girl’s dad.
My breath hitches when I feel his bulge against my inner thighs. This is how every session ends. Him against me…and when things get too hot, we take it to the red room. A place we can let loose in ecstasy without fear of being too loud.
“I’m married…not blind.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper.
“Your husband must be so lucky.” His breath tickles my neck as he chuckles.
“He is.” I wrap my arms around his neck, letting out a contented exhale. “Actually, we both are.”
That’s the truth. He’s been nothing short of sweet, lovely, and amazing to both me and our daughter. And the best part is there’s balance.
He handles the mafia with twice as much fervor as he used to. After the undercutting, we worked hard to get our profits back on track. The warehouses that shut down reopened, and we gained back our status as the best-selling producer of drugs in New York and even abroad.
But it doesn’t just end there. In the past few months, we’ve recorded a significant increase in the net profit margins. Logistics, supply routes, and redundant intermediaries—Cortez tightened everything to turn more profit.
“What’s your husband’s name?” He grinds his hips slightly into mine, the weight of his heavy cock maddening and delicious all at once. Damn!
My lips part, eyes holding his gaze sultrily. “Cortez Donatelli. But I like to call him ‘Daddy’.”
“Fuck!” he rasps, grinding into me this time with a sense of urgency.
Heat coils between my legs, and as he leans upward, I part my legs only for him to ram harder into my entrance.
I moan, fist curling tighter around his neck.
“We...we’re going to give whoever’s watching the cameras a show,” I say, my breath uneven.
Cortez doesn’t stop. Instead, he slips his hands into the waistband of my leggings. “I’ll kill him.”
My pussy tingles when he reaches there. With just a single finger, he runs his hand along the length of my slit. “Always so fucking ready for me.”
Biting my lips, I manage a smirk, sneaking my hands between us to grab his crotch. “Always so fucking hard when we’re training.”
“Can’t blame me. Seeing you all fiery and determined gets my cock up.” His gaze on me is hooded, sliding between my eyes and lips.
He runs another finger down my clit before rubbing in slow, torturous circles. A pleasant shiver runs through my body as I spread my legs even wider.
The last time we had sex was two days ago, after training, but I swear it feels like ages. I shut my eyes, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against my pussy, when suddenly he inserts his fingers.
I gasp. His mouth quickly comes down on my lips.
“Wh-What if Alessia finds us here?” I whisper between his kisses.
He groans against my mouth, dragging a long nibble across my bottom lip. “She’s asleep.”
The words barely leave his mouth when he dives into my breasts, planting kisses on the exposed cleavage that spills from my sports bra. My hand slowly slides down his back as his simultaneous assault on my breast and pussy continues.
I run my fingers across his tensed muscles, clutching occasionally, when I feel pressure in my core.
“Fuck, Cortez.” I part my legs even wider as he inserts another finger.
“That’s ‘Daddy’ to you!” he growls, latching onto one nipple and rolling it into his mouth.
“Daddy!” A tiny, high-pitched voice reaches us.
I freeze, and he stiffens above me. In a split second, we separate from each other, scrambling upward as I tuck one breast back into my bra and adjust the waistband of my panties and leggings.
Cortez groans, quickly grabbing his shirt from where it hangs on an iron bar and putting it on to cover his boner.
Then Maria walks in, cradling a wide-awake Alessia in her arms. A smile slips onto my face when I see our daughter. Honey brown hair, dark eyes, and tan skin. God, she looks just like her father.
Maria lets her down, and she toddles towards us.
She removes the pacifier from her mouth and grins at me—mostly gum and barely any teeth.
“Hi, Mwommy.” She waves sloppily at me. My heart melts.
“Hi, baby,” I move to hold her, but she giggles and side steps me, almost falling as she increases her pace to Cortez.
“Daddy!” Her loud squeal fills the room as Cortez sinks to his knees, hugging her.
She gingerly hugs Cortez, small arms looping around his neck.
“Oh, I missed you, fiore (flower),” Cortez whispers.
My heart clenches in a way only deep joy brings as I watch my husband and daughter smile at each other like they have some sort of inside joke. This…this is the true meaning of family and of…love.
Cortez has been doing a good job of letting go of his trauma and fears. Therapy has helped both of us quite a bit.
Sometimes…moments like this, I just stop and stare, reminiscing on how much better he has become.
Cortez Donatelli, the same man who made the war front his abode and thrived on bloodshed, now sleeps with an arm around a Winnie-the-Pooh—courtesy of Alessia—and the other around my waist.
I won’t say he’s changed. No. He’s still the brilliant, fearful, relentless mafia don, but there is a shift. He is now refined to be a better version of himself. For me. For her.
And although he doesn’t say it, I see it.
I see it in the way he plays house with Alessia, even when he comes home tired after meetings. In the way he schedules our biweekly dates, and has never once forgotten or missed a day. I see it in the way he curls up to me, even when neck deep in work responsibilities, just so I don’t sleep alone.
He’s present and has attained a perfect balance where it doesn’t feel like work overshadows family, or past issues affect his present life.
He listens even before I speak, apologizes when he’s wrong, and treats me and Alessia like we’re the only ones that exist in his world.
And me? I’ve let go of the guilt…the unshed weight.
I give him all the love a wife could give to her husband, even more. At least I believe so. I never let him feel like he’s alone, and every step of the way, I let him know how much of a lovely husband and father he is.
I’m still managing the mafia’s finances as the chief accountant, but even more than that, I’ve been fronting some business negotiations with Alejandro, vetting partners, and helping to close deals.
Seeing the cash flows, the profits, the progress, and more importantly, the smile on Cortez’s face, makes me satisfied with myself.
I’m doing all I’ve ever wanted to do—help. Change the narrative. Stand shoulder to shoulder with the men who make the rules.
Alessia’s babble brings me back to the present.
I don’t know what she’s saying, but from the looks of it, she’s standing on business, furrowing her brows and pointing a tiny finger at a stuffed lion.
Cortez shakes his head, his shoulders vibrating as he laughs before gently kissing her forehead. Then he turns to me.
“Fiery. Just like you,” he mutters with a warm smile. One filled with love and adoration.
I nod. Of course, she may be a daddy’s girl, but she’s got mommy’s spirit. My smile widens as I glance between the duo, my gaze lingering on our daughter, reminiscing on our journey so far.