Epilogue
LUCA
UNDONE BY LOVE
The church is half-filled with guests, more on our side than Aemelia’s, but that’s to be expected. Her father's family isn’t welcome, and her mother’s is small. Most of her friends from Maryland couldn’t make it, except for a select few we offered to fly out for the weekend.
On our side is a mix of beloved family—Rosita and Raphael with baby Mario asleep in her arms, Mama looking happy and proud, cousins, friends, our crew and their wives and children, and further back, our allies, the men who control this underworld most of the time.
I glance past them because their presence isn’t about sentiment, it’s about power, about ensuring that alliances remain intact. The only way to secure a safe future for Aemelia and our family is to keep the right people on our side. There’s no walking away from this life, so we have to play the game.
By my side, Antonio and Alexis stand, dressed in matching tuxedos, hair styled, eyes bright, waiting with the same tension I feel coiled inside me.
I don’t like it when Aemelia is out of our sight. That’s one of the benefits of sharing a woman—three husbands can protect her far better than one.
We’re an anomaly in this world. Men like us don’t share. They hoard, they claim, they devour. But with us, it has always been different. Sharing Aemelia has brought me a peace I never thought possible. While it took time for our mother to understand, Aemelia’s desire to fill our home with children has softened her heart. She just wants to see us happy, and it’s impossible for anyone to deny that we are.
“She’s late,”
Alexis hisses, raking a hand through his curls, ruining their styled perfection. He looks more like himself now, a little disheveled, a little reckless.
“It’s a bride’s prerogative,”
I remind him.
Carmella Lambretti sits in the front with her sister beside her. Christina is even thinner than when we last saw her, but she’s hanging on, determined to witness her niece’s wedding. Who knows what will happen after? She has already outlived every doctor’s prediction.
I adjust my cuffs, my fingers grazing the links Mario gave me so many years ago. He should have been here today. He was always the one who believed in love, the artist, the poet, the dreamer.
Before grief can weigh me down, music begins to play. Aemelia’s brother, CJ, appears in the doorway. And beside him, our bride.
She’s the picture of elegance, enveloped in cream lace that clings to her curves before spilling out into a fluted skirt. Tight sleeves drape over her hands, modest yet breathtaking. Over her head rests her mother’s veil, a final tether to the past she’s leaving behind. As the congregation turns to watch, she slides her hand into her brother's arm, her posture regal, her steps measured.
The world slows, each step she takes carving away the years of violence and blood that led us here. The weight of my past, the sins I have worn like armor, seem to splinter as she draws closer. These hands—stained with blood, calloused and unworthy—have taken life without hesitation, but today, they will only hold hers, gentle and reverent. I have known power and commanded fear, but today, for the first time, I’m undone by something greater.
Her.
Nothing has ever unraveled me like the soft, steady way she looks at me now. Like I’m worthy of her love. She was never meant to be mine—never meant to belong to any of us—but fate, who’s been as cruel as she’s been generous, wove our paths together in the kind of story that shouldn’t have a happy ending. And yet, here she is, walking toward us, the only men who have ever been willing to burn the world to keep her safe. My chest tightens, my heart a raw, aching thing in my ribs. I never believed I’d find love and still don’t fully believe I deserve her.
“You ready?”
Antonio asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“I was born ready,”
I mutter, which earns a chuckle from both my brothers. I’m thirty-nine, and the wait for the perfect woman has been long. Now that she’s ours, I vow to make all the years we’re given together count. No more waiting for life to start.
“Unlike other mafia brides, at least this one has backup husbands,”
Alexis chuckles darkly.
“I’m not planning to die any time soon,”
I mutter, but he isn’t wrong. There is strength in numbers, and with three of us by her side, she and our children will never be alone.
My gaze locks on Aemelia, tracing the slow sway of her hips and the proud lift of her chin. She has always carried herself with a quiet grace, but now, she walks like a queen.
Aemelia Venturi. It has a much better ring to it than Lambretti. I can’t say I’m sorry to see Carlo’s name go.
When she reaches the altar, she waits for her brother to lift her veil. Since his time in rehab, his hands have been steady, his eyes clear. There’s no going back for him. He understands what will happen to him if he does.
Aemelia’s eyes shine, her skin glows, and her full lips curve into a soft, eager smile. We’ve all been waiting for this day, but Aemelia especially. It’s important to her that everyone sees that she’s not just our captive anymore. She’s our love, and now our wife.
I reach out for her hand, drawing her gently toward me. Once, I had to stoop to hold her hand. Not anymore. She meets my gaze, her own intensity like an open palm against my chest.
“You kept us waiting,”
I whisper, and she gives me a cheeky smile.
“Was I worth the wait?”
I brush my thumb over the back of her hand. “I waited thirty-nine years for you, Aemelia. What’s a few more minutes?”
Her blush is sweet, her surprised expression enough to warm my heart. Antonio and Alexis gather closer as the priest begins the service.
His words wash over me like a dream because all I can think about is our life beginning today. From the moment Mario was murdered, our lives were knocked off course—grief, anger, and vengeance consumed us, driving away any hope of happiness. But now, we’re putting that chapter to rest.
When the priest instructs us to repeat after him, my throat tightens. Aemelia’s voice is soft but steady, unwavering as she commits herself to me, to us. The emptiness I have carried for so long is filled by her promises. I turn to my brothers, seeing the same devotion in their eyes.
The service ends, and I’m told to kiss my bride. My hands tremble as I cup her face, drawing her close. The first brush of our lips as husband and wife is unlike any kiss before—it's the beginning of something new, something sacred. The first words inked in a book.
Once upon a time…
…a girl was rescued by three brothers to live happily ever after.
It’s a shortened version of the truth. The path was rocky, but we got there.
And we’ll love her, and she’ll love us.
Aemelia is breathless when I finally release her to the shouts and cheers of our friends, loved ones, and tentative allies. I take her hand and pass her to Antonio, who wraps his arms around her and kisses her like a man starving for her touch. More whoops and cheers erupt, though the priest has already withdrawn—displeased perhaps but content with the generous donation we made to the church.
Money is power, after all.
Alexis is last and, of course, always the showman, dipping her low with his usual flair, pressing a kiss to her lips like something out of a black-and-white film. When he pulls her upright, she’s flushed and radiant, glowing with happiness. So perfect that my throat burns with unshed emotion.
I swallow it down. No one will ever see this mob boss cry.
Except maybe Aemelia, later, when we’re alone, and I show her how much it means that she has chosen to walk beside us, to lay by our sides, to be ours in every way that matters.
***
The ballroom is as breathtaking as it was for Rosita’s wedding, with chandeliers casting golden light over the polished marble floor, flowers tumbling over crystal vases, and candles flickering romantically. Except, rather than my sister gliding around the dance floor in the arms of her husband, it’s Aemelia dancing with Alexis, her hair spilled loose and lightly curled down her back, the sleeves of her dress removed to reveal thin straps that show off her radiant olive skin.
Her face is alight with happiness, her body moving seductively, and Alexis is enraptured as he guides her, taking his turn for a first dance. The band plays a soft, romantic melody meant to slow the heart and heighten the moment. Alexis twirls her, dipping her low before drawing her back against his chest, his lips grazing her temple in a gesture that’s both possessive and reverent. She laughs, like the soft chime of silver, her eyes glimmering in the golden glow.
I sip from a tumbler of aged whiskey, letting the burn settle deep in my chest as I watch my wife move between my brothers, my heart clenched in something primal and reverent. Aemelia Venturi. She’s no longer our captive. She’s no longer a pawn. She is our queen, our most treasured possession, mine to protect until my dying breath.
“She’s beautiful,”
Mama murmurs beside me, placing a weathered hand on my forearm. I glance at her, noting the soft smile on her lips and the approval in her deep-set eyes. I place my hand over hers, engulfing it.
“She is,”
I agree, my voice thick with pride.
“And she’s yours,”
she adds, squeezing my arm gently. “This responsibility you’ve taken is not just a game, Luca. She’s your family now. Our family. She carries the Venturi name. She will birth the Venturi legacy.”
I catch sight of Mama’s wedding band, which is still wedged tightly onto her finger. Her marriage was the catalyst for our existence, and now, our marriage will bring more children to the bloodline—the never-ending cycle of life. “I know, Mama. She’s safe with us.”
“It is not just about safety,”
she says, her gaze sharp, knowing. “A woman like that needs more than protection. She needs devotion. She needs a home. You have given her your name, but now you must give her a life. A future.”
A future. I sip my drink, letting the weight of her words settle over me. My world has revolved around vengeance, blood, and duty for so long. But now, I have something beyond that. Aemelia is my future, our future. She is the reason I will wake up every morning with a purpose beyond the family business.
“You’re taking her away?”
she asks, though she already knows the answer.
“Tonight. We leave for the Maldives after the reception. I want her to have the honeymoon she deserves.”
My mother smiles approvingly, lifting her glass to her lips. “Good. A woman should know luxury. She should know what it means to be adored.”
Adored. The word perfectly fits with how I feel about Aemelia.
I turn my attention back to my wife just in time to see Antonio take her from Alexis, his hand settling on the small of her back as he leads her into a slower dance. He presses his forehead to hers, whispering something that makes her blush and smile, her fingers curling into the lapel of his tuxedo.
A flicker of possessiveness rolls through me, but it is quickly replaced by satisfaction. We’re not like other men in our world. We don’t fight over our woman. We share, we protect, and we love. Together.
The night continues in a blur of laughter, wine, and celebration. Aemelia never leaves my sight, moving between me and my brothers and greeting our guests with the grace of a queen. When the time comes to cut the cake, she looks up at me with eyes so full of light that I think I could drown in them.
“You ready to leave after this?”
I murmur against her ear as we make the final rounds of the evening.
She nods, her fingers tightening around mine. “Yes. Take me away from here, Luca.”
Minutes later, we slip out, escorted by our men through the back entrance of the grand estate. A sleek black car waits for us, its driver already at attention. Antonio and Alexis climb in behind us, their hands resting protectively on Aemelia’s knees as she leans into me, exhaustion and excitement warring in her eyes.
The drive to the private airstrip is silent, filled only with the quiet hum of the engine and the sound of our kisses as we pass Aemelia between us, hungry for our wife. Our private jet is waiting when we arrive, and the crew is already prepared for takeoff.
Aemelia’s breath catches as she steps onto the plane, taking in the plush leather seats, the dim golden lighting, and the bottles of champagne chilling in a crystal bucket. “This is… incredible.”
Alexis grins, pulling her onto his lap as he pours a glass. “Only the best for our wife.”
Antonio sits across from them, his gaze softening as he watches her. “We want you to have everything you never had before, Aemelia.”
I sit beside her, tilting her chin toward me so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. “From now on, you’ll never want for anything again, mi amore. The world is yours.”
She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around my wrist. “I already have everything I need. I have you.”
I grip her jaw in my hand, staring into the eyes of the woman who’s found her way into my heart. “You were never meant for this life., but you were meant for us. You’ll wear our name before the world, Aemelia Venturi. And in private, you’ll wear nothing but our marks.”
Her smile illuminates the universe.
The engines roar to life, and as the plane ascends into the night, carrying us toward the sun-soaked paradise of the Maldives, I know with certainty that the war we have fought, the blood we have spilled, was all worth it because it has led to this.
To her.
To us.
Forever.
BONUS EPILOGUE
THE HONEYMOON
Day 3
LUCA
The sun is a dying ember on the horizon, spilling streaks of molten pink, yellow, and orange like flames across the sky, turning the ocean into a shimmering field of gold. I lean against the wooden railing of our overwater villa, a glass of whiskey forgotten in my hand, and watch her.
My woman.
My obsession.
Our obsession.
Aemelia stands ankle-deep in the crystalline water, the waves licking at her calves, the hem of her gauzy white cover-up damp and clinging to her thighs. The sea breeze plays with her hair, sending wild strands whipping around her face, and she laughs softly at the sensation. That sound cuts through me like a blade made of light. I’ve spilled blood for her, but I’d spill oceans more to hear that laugh.
I set my glass down and stalk toward her. She senses me before I reach her—she always does—turning slightly, a sly smile tugging at her lips. I wrap my arms around her from behind, dragging her back against my chest, inhaling the scent of sun-warmed skin and saltwater. She melts into me without resistance.
“You’ve been staring at me for ten minutes,”
she teases, her voice a sweet rasp. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten bored.”
I let out a low hum and brush my lips against the shell of her ear. “Bored?”
My voice is rough, thick with disbelief. I turn her in my arms, cupping her jaw in my palm, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “No, princess. Why would I be bored when I have the best view in the world?”
Her gaze softens, but she doesn’t speak. Instead, she presses her forehead to mine and lets me breathe her in. For the first time in my life, there is no power play, no battle for dominance, just peace.
I tilt her chin up and catch her mouth with mine. Soft at first. Reverent. Like a man who’s still afraid his dream might slip through his fingers. But when she makes a needy little sound, I deepen the kiss, claiming her slowly and thoroughly, like I have all the time in the world.
Because with her, I do.
I carry her into the calm ocean, relishing the gentle lap of the waves against my thighs as the water rises around us. The sea is warm like liquid silk slipping over our skin, and she clings to me, her arms twined around my neck, her legs locked around my waist. She’s weightless in my arms, her soft, sun-kissed body pressed so perfectly against mine it feels like she was made for me.
The dying sunlight highlights the graceful line of her bare shoulders, the delicate slope of her neck, and the curve of her spine. I run my hand slowly down her back, and she shivers when my palm flattens over the curve of her ass, a soft gasp escaping her parted lips. I capture the sound with my mouth, swallowing it down like a man starved.
“You feel that?”
I murmur against her lips, voice rough, heavy with possession. “The ocean around us. The sky over us. The sand below us. My money, my name, my power…”
I cup the back of her neck, holding her so she can’t look away. “They could take all of it from me, and I wouldn’t fucking care.” I press my forehead to hers, my voice nothing but sand and salt air. “As long as I have you.”
Her breath catches, and she fists her hands in my hair, dragging me closer until her mouth crashes back into mine. The kiss is desperate and consuming, raw with everything we’ve fought for. I can feel her trembling slightly in my arms, but she doesn’t pull back. No. She only holds tighter, sinking her teeth into my bottom lip, demanding more.
I let out a low, gravelly groan and give her exactly what she wants, slanting my mouth over hers, drinking her in with deep, drugging kisses. She clings to me, her hands demanding against my skin, gasping softly as the cool water ripples around us, brushing over us in lazy caresses.
“Luca…”
she breathes, her voice barely louder than the waves.
And the sound of my name on her lips, fragile and wanting, wrecks me.
I tighten my hold on her, anchoring her hips flush against mine, letting her feel how much I want her. The smooth brush of her thighs around me, her calves tightening with a slow, sensual squeeze, ignites the darkest, hungriest desires in me.
I tip my head back slightly, just enough to look at her, and she stares down at me with wide, unguarded eyes, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache. She traces her thumb along my jaw, brushing over the stubble, and her gaze softens, so full of tenderness and trust it nearly brings me to my knees.
“I love you,”
she whispers, the words so soft they almost vanish into the ocean air.
But I hear them. Fuck, do I hear them?
They stop my heart and freeze my body, drawing my arms tighter around her, knuckles whitening with the need to hold her closer. My throat works hard against the ache that rises there. She’s said it before, but now, with the stars in her eyes and the sea at our feet, it feels holy.
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs trembling slightly as they stroke over her cheeks. “Say it again.”
My voice is barely there, rough and broken, but she hears it.
She leans in, her mouth brushing against mine, her breath warm and sweet. “I love you, Luca. My husband.”
I close my eyes for a beat, feeling the weight of it—the promise, the gift of it—pour over me like baptism. Like salvation.
Aemelia makes me want to be a better man worthy of her innocence and love. I don’t know what that will mean when we leave this paradise and return to the prison of our lives, but I have a feeling that nothing will remain the same for long.
When I open my eyes, I meet her gaze fiercely, my voice hoarse and cracked from the force of what I feel. “I will never stop loving you. Not for a day, not for a minute. Never.”
And then, I kiss her again as the sky loses the warmth of the day, with the taste of salt forever lingering on our lips.
Day 4
ANTONIO
The night is still, except for the rhythmic lap of the waves against the stilts of our villa. Luca and Alexis left an hour ago to play cards in a bar up the road so that I can spend some time alone with Aemelia. It’s been our arrangement since we arrived, and I’ve relished the intimacy it brought to our time together.
I sit on the edge of the bed, propped against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of me. The silk sheets are bunched around my waist, and Aemelia is tucked into my side, her head resting on my chest. She traces idle patterns against my skin, her fingertip gliding over the small scars and jagged marks that tell the story of my life. A life that existed before her and a life that now only makes sense with her in it.
She runs her finger over a narrow scar just below my ribs, the mark from a knife fight years ago. Her lips brush the raised flesh as if her kiss alone could erase it. I catch her wrist and still her hand, bringing her fingers to my mouth. I press a kiss to each knuckle, reverent and tender. She doesn’t realize how easily she undoes me with a gesture so small.
“You’re quiet,”
she whispers, tilting her head back to look at me. “Are you okay?”
I turn to my side, pinning her beneath me. She gasps softly, but her eyes never leave mine. She trusts me. Completely. That knowledge sends a dull ache through my chest. She’ll never know all my sins, but she accepts me as I am—a flawed man in a flawed world. A man who’d do better if my circumstances were different.
“I’m more than okay,”
I murmur, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I’m wondering how I ever lived without you.”
Her lips part slightly, eyes going soft and glassy. I lower my head, kissing her slowly, deliberately. My hands slide down her sides, revering every inch of her, memorizing the slope of her waist and her skin's warmth.
“You’re mine, Aemelia,”
I rasp against her lips, my voice shaking slightly with the weight of the truth. “But you’re more than that. You’re my peace. My redemption. My reason.”
Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away. She cups my face in her hands, tilting her head slightly, and kisses me back with a slow, aching tenderness that makes my pulse throb in my throat.
The world outside these four walls could burn, and I wouldn’t care.
I let my hand drift between her legs, stroking through the stickiness of our release and sigh from a bone-deep contentment that’s new and unfamiliar. We talked about birth control, but Aemelia’s ready to start a family. Knowing she might be pregnant with our child has made us even more protective of her if possible.
She squirms against my touch.
“Again?”
She reaches out for my semi-erect cock. “Are you complaining, old man?”
I pin her to the bed so fast, she squeals. “Who are you calling old man?”
“No one.”
Laughter bursts from her as I grab at her side to tickle her.
“Oh, yeah? Want me to show you what I’ve learned with all my extra years of experience?”
She bites her lip, playful and sweet, and I spread her legs with my thighs and thrust so deep inside her that she cries out.
The lock beeps, the door opens and Luca and Alexis stroll into the villa casually like we’re watching TV, not in the middle of fucking.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Alexis drawls, his eyes glimmering with heat, already reaching for the back of his shirt and tugging it over his head in one fluid motion. His grin is all hunger and sin, but Luca’s eyes?
They blaze with raw, unrepentant possession.
I cant my hips, driving into the Aemelia just the way she likes, and she moans, pinching her nipples in time with my thrusts. Luca watches, his jaw tight, his chest heaving with slow, heavy breaths, and then he moves.
Efficient. Controlled. Like a predator finally closing in on his prey.
He unbuttons his shirt, every flick of his fingers deliberate and slow, his eyes locked on Aemelia’s.
When the fabric falls away, he kicks off his pants, his thick cock already flushed and full, aching with intent.
And then he’s on her, replacing her fingers with his mouth, latching onto one perfect, pebbled peak and sucking hard enough to pull a broken whimper from her throat.
Alexis is already there. He catches her moan in his mouth, kissing her deeply, savoring the soft, needy sounds she makes. His hands roam her body, knowing exactly where to linger, where to press, where to claim, until he finds her clit and circles it slowly, teasing her until her thighs quake around us.
We move like a well-oiled machine, synchronized and relentless, driving her higher and higher until she’s clenching down around me so tightly that I almost see stars.
She shatters in our arms, clawing at the sheets and crying out for God, her release milking me so hard it takes everything I have not to follow her over the edge.
We ease her through it, letting her float in the aftershocks while her body pulses around me, soft and wet and perfect.
I watch, mesmerized, as she gasps and shivers, her lips parted, her eyes dazed and heavy-lidded.
So beautiful.
I finally pull out, my cock slick with her release, and dip my head between her trembling thighs.
I swipe my tongue slowly over her folds, tasting the sweetness of her climax, and she lets out a broken sob, her hips jerking, and pushes at my head, trying to squirm away.
“Too much?”
Alexis chuckles, his eyes glinting with dark amusement.
“She can take it,”
Luca rumbles, his voice low and confident, already lifting her boneless body into his lap.
She clings to him, dazed and pliant, and he takes her mouth in a slow, possessive kiss, his tongue sweeping deep, claiming her again.
Without a word, he lines up and drives into her, filling her with one smooth, unyielding stroke.
Her spine arches, her thighs trembling around his hips, and she keens into his mouth, the sound soft and broken.
I move behind her, still hard, still aching.
I gather her hair, twisting it gently around my fist, baring the graceful column of her throat.
I kiss along the delicate skin, tasting the salt of her sweat, the remnants of our shared sin, and whisper against her ear.
“Relax,”
I murmur darkly, lining my cock against her entrance as I force my body inside hers, in, and in, and in, until I’m as deep as I can be, and she’s stretched tightly around me and Luca. It feels so damned good, my head spins, but it’s more than just the feel of her body. It’s her total submission to our desires that gets us so hot.
“You feel that, amore?”
he says through gritted teeth, his breath ragged in her ear.
“You were made for us.”
Alexis kneels beside us, watching hungrily, his cock heavy and thick in his hand.
His eyes darken with lust as he drags his knuckles over the curve of her breast, brushing her nipple lightly.
“Take him,”
Luca commands roughly, his voice all gravel and heat.
“Show him how fucking good you are.”
Aemelia obeys.
Without hesitation, she wraps her delicate fingers around Alexis’s length, stroking him with long, deliberate pulls, her thumb brushing over his slit with every upstroke.
His eyes darken further, and he groans, the sound low and feral, his hips rocking into her grip.
“Fuck, yes. Just like that.”
The slick, obscene sounds of her pussy around us fill the room, mingling with the harsh rasp of our breathing, until the tension is unbearable.
I reach around her, palming her breast, feeling the frantic race of her heart under my hand as I drive into her with deep, punishing thrusts.
Luca’s hand tangles in her hair, fisting it tightly, and he takes her mouth in a brutal, searing kiss, swallowing her every whimper.
Alexis’s head falls back, his jaw clenched, his cock flushed dark in the circle of her fist, and he groans her name, the sound raw and desperate.
“Aemelia,”
I gasp, my voice wrecked as I clutch her tighter, driving deep and hard, feeling her tense and flutter around us.
“Come for us.”
And she does.
Her back bows, her throat bared, and her entire body locks around us as she shatters again, trembling violently, her pussy milking us without mercy.
Luca’s head falls back, his chest heaving, and he roars his release, filling her with his thick, hot spend.
I follow, groaning against the damp skin of her throat, emptying myself inside her, holding her hips so tightly she can’t escape even a drop.
And when Alexis curses through clenched teeth, his cock jerking in her grip, he spills over her fingers, his dark eyes half-lidded and dazed as he watches the mess she’s made of him.
We hold her between us, our breath ragged, our bodies sated, but still fiercely entwined with hers, knowing that every pulse of our orgasms could be the one that puts a baby in her belly.