Extended Epilogue
I was settled onto the plush couch in our bedroom with our baby girl cradled in my arms as I fed her. The room was quiet and the only sound was the gentle suckling of our daughter at my breast
Elara.
I traced my fingers over the fine strands of her dark hair, marveling at how tiny she is, how warm she felt against me. Her small hands curled against my chest, her breathing slow and steady as she fed. My heart clenched at the sheer love that rushed through me.
She was perfect.
Our little girl.
She had Luca's stormy, full eyes, full of something unspoken. Even now, barely six months old, she had a way of staring right through me as if she understood more than she should.
Like her father.
A shadow fell over us and I looked up just as Luca stepped into the room.
He had shed his suit jacket, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked every bit the powerful man he was-dangerous, commanding but the second his gaze landed on Elara, something in him softened.
"You are still awake, carina?" he murmured, crossing the room toward me.
"She doesn't want to sleep." I whispered, smoothing my fingers over Elara's dark curls. "She fought it, though. She has your stubbornness."
Luca smiled, crouching in front of me. "And your temper."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "She is six months old. She doesn't have a temper."
His brow arched. "She screamed at me for putting her down earlier. That was definitely a temper."
I rolled my eyes but my smile lingered. "She just likes being held."
Luca reached out, tracing a gentle finger down Elara's cheek. "Then she will never have to ask twice." His voice was softer now.
Luca had been utterly devoted to Elara from the moment she was placed in his arms. It was almost ridiculous. The same man who once scoffed at the idea of marriage, who never imagined himself as a father, now spent half his time hovering over us like a protective shadow.
Luca's fingers lingered against Elara's cheek before he cupped the back of her head, his palm engulfing her tiny skull as he let out a quiet breath.
"She is growing too fast" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
I smiled, shifting slightly as Elara's suckling slowed. "That's what babies do, Luca."
He shook his head, his gaze locked onto her. "It's too fast."
My chest tightened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. Luca Moretti didn't fear much. He faced bullets and betrayals with a smirk, met enemies with a knife to their throat. But this, his daughter growing up, time slipping through his fingers unsettled him.
I reached out, brushing my fingers through his dark hair. "You are a good father, Luca."
His eyes flicked up to mine. "She is everything."
"I know."
Carefully, I adjusted Elara, her tiny body now lax against me, milk-drunk and deep in sleep.
Luca carefully slid his hands beneath Elara, cradling her against his chest. She stirred slightly, her tiny fingers flexing but the moment he murmured something low in Italian, she settled back into sleep.
He walked across the room, each movement careful as if he carried the most fragile thing in the world. When he reached the crib, he hesitated just a moment, his fingers grazing Elara's cheek before he finally laid her down.
Luca lingered, watching her, his hands braced on the edge of the crib. His shoulders were relaxed in a way they rarely were.
Then, slowly, he turned to me.
"She is perfect," he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp in the dimly lit room.
I smiled at him from the couch. "She has you wrapped around her tiny little finger."
He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping closer. "She can have whatever she wants." His dark gaze locked onto mine, something shifting in them. "So can her mother."
I swallowed as he reached me and loomed over me, his fingers brushing along my jaw before tilting my chin up. His lips curved as he traced his knuckles down the column of my throat. His fingers slid lower, grazing my collarbone.
A shiver ran through me. Even after three years of marriage, a simple touch from him was still enough to undo me.
Slowly, Luca tugged me to my feet, his hand slipping around my waist, pulling me into his chest. I leaned into him as he pressed his lips to my temple, then lower, trailing down to the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.
"You are beautiful, Alessa," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin.
I exhaled a shaky breath, my fingers curling into his shirt. "Luca-"
He cut me off with a kiss.
Soft at first but deepening with every second.
His arms tightened around me, pressing me flush against him, as if he needed me closer, as if there was still space between us that he refused to allow.
And when he pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his voice was rough and raw.
"You gave me more than I ever thought I could have," he said quietly.
My throat tightened.
"And you gave me everything I ever wanted" I whispered back.
He brushed his lips over my forehead, his hands steady on my waist, holding me. I looked up at him, at the man who had once fought against this, against us and now saw nothing but love in his eyes.
I had changed him. He had changed me.
And we had created something beautiful together, which made us fall in love a little more each day.
And I know he would never stop falling.
Neither would I.
Because this-us, our daughter, our life-was always bound to be ours.
The End.