Chapter 25
Rory
Every step pulled at my stitches, the ice pack shoved into my panties providing only a fraction of relief to my sore and swollen lady bits, as I shuffled down the hallway toward the nursery.
When I reached the open doorway to Luca’s room, I paused on the threshold, my heart swelling at the beautiful sight I found within.
Gio was seated in the glider, shirtless, our sleeping son atop his chest. Our baby boy wasn’t small by any means—weighing in at nine pounds, five ounces—but he looked tiny against his daddy’s broad frame.
My husband was a hardened criminal; his large hands had taken countless lives, so it was almost startling to see how gently they cradled the infant in his arms.
That was the dichotomy of Gio versus John—two very different men, trapped within a single body. Even having witnessed both sides of his personality firsthand, it was still hard to wrap my mind around the striking contrast.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” his deep voice rumbled. “Dr. Corsi said you need to rest so your body can heal.”
Pouting, I replied, “I woke up alone.”
Gio dipped his chin toward Luca. “Heard him whimpering through the baby monitor. Figured he was hungry and was going to bring him to you, but the minute I picked him up, he passed out again. Now I can’t get up for fear of waking him.”
I stepped closer. “You look good nap trapped.”
His lips brushed against the baby’s jet-black hair. “Can’t say I’m too mad about it.”
Pressing against the sides of my tender breasts, I was—with deep regret—forced to put an end to this tender moment. “I need to feed him. With the roads impassable, blocking our access to phototherapy, that’s the only way to combat his jaundice.”
As if it wasn’t bad enough that the nightmare of his birth replayed on an endless loop every time I closed my eyes, my anxiety shot through the roof after receiving that diagnosis from our current live-in physician.
Only to be further compounded by then going down the rabbit hole on the internet, uncovering all the severe complications my sweet baby boy could potentially suffer if the condition went untreated.
“You’re right,” Gio agreed, rising to his feet. “Why don’t you sit while I try to rouse him with a diaper change?”
If you’d have told me that the big bad mafia man I married would insist on changing every dirty diaper, I would have never believed it. But there had been a noticeable shift in him the moment we became parents, and I welcomed the change.
It was almost as if my prayers had been answered, and bit by bit, John was slowly coming back to me.
But I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe this could last. Right now, we were living in a bubble, shielded from the rest of the world by virtue of a snowstorm that had brought the city to a standstill.
With that isolation came the freedom for Gio to explore that other part of himself, but soon, the threat to our survival would demand his attention again, and he’d be forced to revert back to the ruthless mafia don he was born to be.
A freshly diapered Luca was placed in my arms, and as he latched, I couldn’t stop staring at the bruises that marred his perfect face, courtesy of the forceps delivery.
In a way, it felt like foreshadowing. How many times would I see my baby boy come home battered and broken because of the life—the family—he’d been born into?
Would he be fortunate to live long enough to graduate high school, to get married, to have children of his own?
No matter what happened with the coup staged by Gio’s uncle, new enemies would constantly make themselves known, and there would always be a target on my son’s back.
How was a mother expected to carry on, knowing that within minutes of birth, their child’s life expectancy had been significantly shortened, through no fault of their own?
“Hey.” Gio knelt beside me, his thumb stroking my cheek. “Why are you crying?”
Shoving my fears deep down, I put on a brave face. “My hormones are all over the place. I swear it’s even worse now than when I was pregnant.”
He eyed me skeptically. “You sure that’s all it is?”
The man was a bloodhound when it came to lies; he could sniff one out from over a mile away.
I nodded. “I’m fine, really.”
His hum told me he wasn’t overly convinced, but he let it drop, content to sit by my side as I fed our baby.
If only the three of us could stay like this forever.
“No one warned me how freaking hungry I’d be all the time.” The words were said around a mouthful of pasta as I lifted my bowl for a refill. This was already my sixth full meal today!
Gio chuckled, wasting no time in scooping another heaping helping from the pot on the stove. “You’re burning a lot of calories making food for our little man.”
“I sure hope that’s what it is, or else I won’t be able to fit through the front door by the time this storm is through.”
We were four days into Luca’s birthday blizzard, and while the snow had stopped, the high winds were still going strong, making it difficult for the road crews to see well enough to clear the several feet of frozen precipitation on the ground.
Slurping the last noodle through my lips, I rested a palm over my now-full stomach, and a sigh of bliss rushed past my lips. “Delicious.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” He reached above his head to place his clean bowl back in the cupboard.
My eyes widened as I tracked the move. “Oh my God, Gio! Did I eat it all?”
He waved me off. “You needed it more than me. I’ll just grab some cereal.”
I groaned into my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Lips landed on my forehead. “I was actually craving breakfast for dinner, but you wanted pasta, so this way we both win.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
Unable to hide his smirk, he asked, “Is it working?”
I shoved at his shoulder, creating enough space between us that I was able to ease off the kitchen stool. Though I did so very gingerly because I was still sore as fuck. “Let me make you something.”
“Whoa, not so fast.” One of Gio’s strong arms looped around my waist, hauling me to his chest. “You can barely walk, Rory. There’s no way in Hell I’m letting you cook for me.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I just fed you, so you know I’m more than capable of feeding myself. You’re not winning this argument, so don’t even try.”
My eyes lifted toward the ceiling, and I huffed, “Fine.”
Against my ear, he asked, “If I let you go, do you promise to sit back down?”
“Yes, master.” There was no limit to the amount of sass that leaked into my tone.
Clearly, it didn’t bother him to have seen the horror show that had taken place between my thighs only a few days ago, because his cock began to swell against my ass.
Voice husky, he all but growled, “Count your lucky stars that cum isn’t nutrient-rich enough for your current high-caloric diet, or else that’s all you’d be ingesting until you get a handle on that smart mouth.”
Turning in his arms, I gasped at the lust burning bright in his dark eyes. And damn, if it didn’t make me want to drop to my knees before him in the middle of the kitchen.
Jaw clenched, Gio gritted out. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.”
I cocked my hip. “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Rory.” His grip on my waist tightened when I purposely rubbed against his erection.
By all rights, sexual acts should be the last thing on my mind so soon after having a baby.
There were plenty of women who couldn’t stand the thought of a man touching them for months afterward.
Though technically, the dirty deed I currently contemplated involved giving pleasure instead of receiving.
His hands didn’t even factor into the equation.
“You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think I’ll stand here and let you give me a blowjob less than seventy-two hours after you’ve given birth.”
I walked my fingers up his chest, taunting, “The Gio Bellini I know doesn’t give a damn about others, only himself.”
An iron grip locked down around my wrist. “I said no.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “How about a compromise?”
“You drive me insane, you know that?” Gio grumbled.
My satisfied smile couldn’t be contained. Getting under his skin—or rather, into his pants—had been my primary objective this whole time.
“What if we go upstairs and take a nice hot shower together?” I suggested. “And if my soapy hand just so happens to find your hard cock and start stroking, then maybe we can just call it a happy accident.”
Pulling out of his arms, I spun on my heel and did the least sexy saunter ever recorded out of the room. Sure, I walked with a limp, but I was counting on my hot ass being enough to distract from that.
But my steps faltered when the lights flickered. And they stopped dead when we were plunged into darkness.
A frightened squeal slipped up my throat and into the air. “Gio?”
“I’m right here,” came right before the flashlight on his cell phone lit up the room.
My voice wavered as I asked, “Is it the storm? O-or something else?”
Lips pressed together, he kept his answer honest. “I don’t know.”
With his attention locked on his phone, my husband tapped the screen and pulled up Benito’s contact—the most senior member of the estate’s security team. While waiting for the call to connect, he engaged the speaker function, and endless ringing filled the room.
My heart thrashed against my ribcage. The longer the call went unanswered, the more panicked I became, realizing that we were snowed-in sitting ducks. If Dario’s contingent had somehow managed to beat the elements, this was the perfect time to attack.
“Sir?”
Relief crashed into me so hard that my knees threatened to buckle when Benito’s strong voice came through the speaker.
Gio didn’t mince words. “What are we dealing with?”
“Transformer blew. The whole neighborhood is out,” Benito relayed the situation.
“Is there an estimate as to when we can expect the power to be restored? There’s a newborn in the house, and we need heat.”