Costantino

Epilogue

"Costa, stop." I snapped, eyeing his stupid leg that he kept bouncing.

"I can't help it. I'm nervous."

"How do you think I feel?" He chose to ignore my very, very, valid question.

"Fuck." He muttered, running a hand over his face. "I can't do this, Millie."

"Oh. Shall we just go home then? Maybe we'll make it back in time for dinner?" I spat drily, watching my husband unravel before my eyes.

Seriously. He's acting like I can just tell my Mini Milk to get comfortable again because we're going home.

"I'm being serious. I-...I need more time." This time I resisted the urge to give him another sarcastic remark. But only because I already anticipated he'd be feeling this way during my labour. All our recent conversations leading up to the birth hinted that he wasn't going to take it well.

So instead, I softened my voice, reaching out for his hand.

"I know you're scared. I am too, baby. But you're going to be the best father. As soon as you meet Mini Milk, all these nerves will go away." I smiled, squeezing his hand from my place in my bed.

Did I ever think I'd be his fucking therapist while I'm four hours into labour? No. But here we are.

"You're so good with your baby cousin and your niece. When it's your own baby, you'll be even better."

"You don't know that." He shook his head, staring at our joined hands. "I might fuck it up. My father did."

"You're not your father." It was the same line I'd been repeating to him for months whenever he had one of these wobbles. He believed he'd turn out just like his father.

But I knew Costa. I knew he wouldn't.

"Millie-"

"Wait." I cut him off when another contraction started. For the next minute Costa helped me through the contraction, suddenly switching places with me.

Now he's my therapist.

As the contraction faded, I relaxed back into the bed, catching my breath. Costa was still gripping my hand, his knuckles white from how hard I was holding it.

"You're doing amazing." He whispered, brushing some hair away from my face. I managed a tired smile in return. "See? You're already taking care of us."

My aim was to calm his anxiety, but all it seemed to do was remind him there were two of us. His eyes snapped to my bump and the anxiety returned tenfold.

"Am I allowed to go and get some fresh air?"

"And leave me here all alone?" If I could have shouted that at him, I would. But we were in a hospital so I said it in a harsh whisper instead.

"You're not alone." He scoffed. "Just press your button and the nurse will come in."

"Costa, you're not allowed to leave me here." I spoke through gritted teeth, squeezing his hand even harder. It only took a few seconds before panic rose up in his eyes.

"Fuck. Fine! Let go." He tried to tug his hand out of mine but I squeezed for another few seconds just so he understood. When I finally released him, he pulled his hand away, rubbing it gingerly. "How the hell did you get so strong?"

"It's the hormones. I feel like I could kick your ass right now and then get back into bed before the next contraction hits." I shrugged, taking a sip of my water.

"Maybe you should just stay in your bed." He murmured, eyeing me like I was a freak of nature or something.

I think he was really scared of the possibility I might actually kick his ass midway through my labour.

As he should be. I'm like a pregnant ninja.

The next twenty minutes went by with Costa helping me through my contractions while also having a mental battle with himself. I could tell he wanted to get out. Or at least, he wanted a drink or a cigar or something to take the tension away.

But he did well to stay calm, I'll give him that.

We managed to keep my hospital room a safe and peaceful space while I got through my contractions. It's exactly how I wanted it to be.

"Is it here yet?"

"Bro, you can't just walk in. What if you saw something?"

"Oh. Sorry." Giovanni closed his eyes in the middle of the room before asking that stupid question again. "Is it here?"

"Get them out of here." I spoke through gritted teeth, glaring at my husband next to me.

"I didn't invite them." He stupidly tried to defend himself like it would help his chances against me. Future heir to the Sicilian Mafia or not, he's no match for a woman in labour.

"We tracked Costa's phone to find the right hospital. Then we asked the nice lady at the reception for your room number." Aidan explained, also standing like an idiot with his eyes closed.

"So, is it here?" Giovanni asked again, struggling to keep his balance since his eyes were still screwed shut.

"Ow!" Aidan groaned in pain before shoving his twin. "You just stepped on my foot!"

Of course, when he shoved Giovanni, he shoved him straight into a chair near my bed. That's how Giovanni stumbled, catching his foot on the chair leg.

Then he fell forward, face first at the bottom of my bed. He grabbed onto my foot, his eyes still closed. "Did I just kill the baby?"

"Oh, just open your eyes!"

Giovanni opened his eyes, squinting in confusion as he looked down at my foot. Realising he was clutching it like some kind of lifeline, he let go instantly, scrambling to his feet.

"Sorry, sorry!" He muttered, his face flushing red as he straightened up.

"Did you two just come to add to the chaos or something?" I asked, feeling the edge of another contraction coming on.

Aidan glanced at Giovanni, clearly struggling to find an answer. "We, uh...just wanted to be here. You know, moral support and all that."

As if anyone would need the two of them for moral support.

"How about support that doesn't involve nearly breaking my foot or bursting into the room uninvited?" I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. But I didn't have time to apologise as the contraction tightened my whole body.

Costa immediately sat up as he held my hand and encouraged me to breathe. I could see the worry in his eyes, but he stayed calm for me. This was the Costa I needed - focused, present and fully committed.

We could deal with his wobbles after I'd finished birthing a whole human.

When the contraction finally passed, I loosened my grip on his hand. He gently rubbed my knuckles, concern etched on his face. "You're doing great, Millie."

Giovanni and Aidan had backed off to the corner of the room, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else than in that hospital room. For once, neither of them had something to say. They stood there in silence, shifting uncomfortably, as if they weren't sure whether to stay or go.

Costa finally turned to them, sighing. "Look, I know you're just trying to be here for us, but maybe you could wait outside until...until things get a little less intense?"

And that was their miraculous way out. Aidan immediately nodded. "Yeah, yeah. We get it. Right, Gio?"

"Absolutely. We'll...uh, go grab a doughnut or something," Giovanni replied, glancing back at me as he stupidly fumbled with the door.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, watching him struggle to open it.

"You're gonna do amazing, Millie. If you want a doughnut for you or the baby, just let me know. We'll be right outside if you need us."

It's not far enough. I needed them to be on the other side of the freaking hospital. Or the other side of the world.

The door shut behind them, and silence filled the room again. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply, savouring the momentary peace.

Costa ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "Why do they have to behave like this?"

I smiled despite the tension coursing through my body because of his moronic cousins. "Because you know they care. In their own, chaotic way."

Costa chuckled, shaking his head. "I know, but...it's still a lot. Especially with how I'm feeling and you being in labour. The last thing we need is their...chaos."

That was putting it lightly. Those twins could cook up a storm if they wanted to. Or if they didn't want to. Just their presence alone could send the world into chaos.

Let's not forget they're the reason Costa and I ever even got married in the first place.

I reached up, touching his cheek. "We'll be okay. All three of us. We'll get through today."

We only had a few seconds to enjoy the calm before another contraction hit, stronger than before. I clutched Costa's hand, breathing through the pain with every ounce of focus I could muster.

We continued like that, working our way through my contractions until a nurse finally came in to check my progress, giving me an encouraging smile.

"It's nearly time." She smiled softly, beginning the final preparations. But while she was trying to be calming, it had the complete opposite effect on my husband.

Costa's face paled and his eyes became wide as he glanced at me and then at my bump. It was like the reality was finally sinking in and there was no going back.

But thankfully, he took a deep breath, grounding himself for my sake. He'd been nervous and shaky the entire time, but somehow, his grip on my hand felt steady now, as if he knew I needed his calm more than ever.

I was in a haze at that point, but I remember a flurry of activity filling the room as doctors and nurses prepped everything. I tried to keep my attention on myself and my baby, ignoring their presence.

The next moments blurred as the final contractions came. Costa whispered words of encouragement in my ear, his forehead pressed to mine.

He never once let go of my hand.

While I don't really remember a lot of detail about the different nurses and the room and how everything happened. I do remember that very moment I felt my baby come out.

I remember the way my heart pounded in my chest and the wave of exhaustion that washed over me. I remember the way the midwife caught the baby when it emerged. And I remember Costa slowly releasing my hand when the first cry sounded.

"It's a boy!" She gave us the news we'd waited all these months for, immediately putting my little baby boy on my chest.

A boy.

Costa's demeanour immediately shifted once our baby arrived. Instead of being anxious and nervous, his expression was a mixture of awe, love, and something deeper - pride.

And I just knew he'd be the best father as he raised our son in the chaotic life of the mafia.

And he was.

Seeing him with our son every single day gave me this serene sense of peace over the last five years. Because I knew my baby was going to be okay.

I knew what it meant when she told us he was a boy. And I knew how bad it could turn out. Even looking down at my sleepy five year old next to me right now, the same little boy who was born that day, I still worry for him.

I'll never not worry for him.

But it was different for him than it was for Costa. Edoardo used tough love to prepare Costa and his brothers for the harsh reality of this life. But Costa was determined to shield our children from it for as long as possible.

It's one thing he, Rocco and Tristano all agreed with. But, it was actually the twins who pushed this idea the most because of their love for their baby sister, Marina.

None of the children in the next generation of this family would be involved in the mafia until they turned 18. And, we'd try and shield them from even knowing about it for as long as possible.

Even on my Greek side of the family, we agreed to protect the next generation.

Julius just had a baby girl with his wife, so he understood now more than ever how important it is to let children be children.

We wanted them to grow up in blissful ignorance before they were faced with the harsh realities of this life.

"Mama?"

My thoughts about that night five years ago were cut off by the sound of his sleepy voice.

"Yes, baby?"

"Is Papa home? He said he would read me bed time story." He rubbed his eyes with one hand while keep his other arm firmly across my baby bump.

"Not yet, baby. But don't worry, he'll be home soon. When he gets here, he will come in and read your story."

"Promise?" He stared hopefully at me with those deep green eyes which he'd inherited from his father.

The eyes I was so deeply in love with.

"Promise." I smiled, lying through my teeth. I'm currently 7 months pregnant. Once Costa gets home, he's giving me a foot massage. He's not wasting his time reading a children's story.

"Good. I'll sleep while we wait." My little Sandro snuggled up closer into my side, falling back to sleep in his bed.

Yes, I was in my five year old's bed while being 7 months pregnant. We can all blame the man who sheepishly arrived twenty minutes later.

"He's asleep?" Costa whispered, slipping into the police themed bedroom.

How ironic is it that Sandro loved anything to do with the police?

Every time he mentioned it, Costa would make the best expressions. He'd grumble or scoff to himself when Sandro raved about how cool police cars are. Then he'd have to pretend he shared that love when Sandro wanted to play with him.

"Yeah. Did you forget I told you to stop promising him things?" I narrowed my eyes at my husband as he rounded the small police car bed, coming over to my side.

"Have you seen those fucking eyes? How can I say no?" Yes, Costa never learned to stop swearing. It's been five years since Sandro was born and we're still working on it. But he's getting better. He now only swears around Sandro when he's busy eating, playing or sleeping.

"It's called being a parent. No matter how cute he is, you have to be strong enough to say no." It's also the hardest part of being a parent. Any parent knows you'd do anything to see your baby happy. But you also can't give them pizza for dinner every single day.

Unless you want a fat child. Which is really tempting because chubby kids are so cute.

"Please." Costa muttered as he helped me up from the bed. "That little monster inherited your violent tendencies. If I say no, he'll try and stab me with something."

"Hold on." I scoffed, pausing my movements as I got off the bed. "My violent tendencies? Says the future heir to one of the most deadly organisations on the planet."

"Are you forgetting how many times you've tried to stab me with your knife?"

"And you deserved every single one of those attempts." I snapped back, holding his fierce stare.

But, as usual, my husband was the first one to break. He hates it, but he's become soft over the last few years. He just doesn't admit it. But he has.

His lips twitched into a soft smile as he lifted his hand, tucking some hair behind my ear.

"I can't believe you thought you'd be able to stab me."

"Of course I could." I scoffed, only to pause a second later. "Wait, which time?"

"Our engagement party." He clarified with a smile.

"Oh. Yeah, I could definitely have stabbed you."

Slowly, he turned to face me, his eyes burning with the same intense anger from the first night we met.

"You better remember who you're speaking to, stupida ragazzina." (You stupid little girl)

I mean, did it really take a genius to figure out what stupida meant?

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" I rose an eyebrow at him as I put my glass down on the desk. Costantino knocked back the last of his drink, tossing the glass carelessly onto the wooden surface of the desk.

The large brown desk was the only thing keeping us apart as we glared at one another.

"If I can crush you before this wedding even takes place, imagine what I can turn your life into the moment you say 'I do'."

I don't exactly know what he meant by 'crush', but I wasn't stupid enough to enquire about it.

"You can't do anything to me." Just to prove it, I started walking around the desk, closing the gap between us. "If you think I'm going to be some kind of demure little wife, you're wrong. I'm not scared of you."

"You should be scared, Millicent." That was the first time he ever said my name. Yes, I hated the man, but damn did my name sound good in his thick Italian accent.

I chose to ignore his warning tone as I boldly approached his domineering figure. My heels clicked against the wooden floor while Costantino remained rooted to his spot, watching my every move.

We were less than two feet apart when I finally stopped in front of him by the window.

I held his stare, my own brown eyes locking onto his green ones.

Despite the power I was trying to hold, I paled in comparison to him.

He was naturally dominant and commanded authority wherever he went. He was at least six inches taller than me and obviously bigger in his build. His muscular figure towered over me, but I didn't back down in my glare.

There was no denying it - the only thing between us was pure hatred.

Just staring into his eyes so close, I knew there was no chance in hell we'd ever move past it. This hatred stemmed all the way back to the night we first met in New York. So much had already happened between us and so much was clearly yet to come.

He was just as stubborn as me. He refused to be the one to back down during our stare down. Instead, he let me see his anger and hatred, but he skilfully hid the rest of his emotions and thoughts away from me.

That was until his lips twitched into the slightest smirk at the very same second that I made my move - a move he clearly knew was coming all along.

The second I reached down to my thigh and pulled out my knife, he instinctively grabbed my wrist. I gasped at the sudden contact and within a split second he had me pushed up against the window with my hand now holding the knife behind my back.

The slight amount of pressure he placed on my arm stopped me from struggling against him, but it didn't hurt me.

Surprisingly, he was extremely gentle, even when he shoved me up face first against the window with my right arm behind my back. My left palm lay flat on the cool glass to steady myself.

"You're becoming a little predictable with that knife, principessa." (Princess) His warm breath fanned the side of my face as he whispered the words, his accent sounding even more alluring with the close proximity.

"Mistake number one, never use the same move twice." He murmured, applying a gentle pressure to my arm.

"I can't believe you did that." I shook my head as we tip toed out of Sandro's room. "You should have let me stab you. That was the polite thing to do."

What kind of future husband doesn't let his future wife stab him?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me." He drawled, closing the door to the police themed room I knew nauseated him every single day.

I can't explain what a hit it was to Costa's ego when he realised just how much his son loved the police and anything to do with law enforcement.

Even his father never lets him forget it. It's Edoardo's favourite pastime - reminding Costa how much his son loves the police. It was the one organisation mafioso are programmed to hate.

But Alessandro Salvatore Accardi missed the memo apparently. He came out of the womb with those Accardi green eyes and an unhealthy love for the police.

It took everyone some time to accept it, but Costa struggled with it the most. His brothers and his father now enjoy it because they can use it against him.

Costa and Edoardo still struggle to see eye to eye on a lot of issues. But, ever since Edoardo Accardi became a grandfather again, he's definitely mellowed. It's all thanks to me of course - Costa could never have made such a cute baby with anyone else.

It's my Greek genes. His Sicilian ones just aren't good enough.

"I'll forgive you for not letting me stab you if you get me a milkshake." I smiled, turning to face him in the luxurious hallway of the Accardi villa.

"No fucking way." His response was immediate - like I knew it would be.

"Costa." I was just daring him to argue.

"No." He shook his head, attempting to side step me. Unfortunately for him, in my pregnant state, it wasn't hard to stop him. My bump was huge even just at 7 months pregnant.

"You can't say no to me. I'm pregnant." I've been using that line for the last seven months and it definitely helps me sometimes. But not always.

"I'm not getting you another milkshake. Not after last time."

"How was I supposed to know my Miniest Milk doesn't like banana milkshakes?"

We wanted a milkshake and I hadn't had a banana milkshake in a while. So, Costa got me banana and...well...

It didn't end up well for the white leather interior of his Rolls Royce.

"My Miniest Milk is still trying to figure out which flavours he likes. He said no to banana." I shrugged, ignoring the ferocity of his glare.

I was used to them after being married for almost seven years.

"You threw up in my fucking car and that's what you have to say? He said no to banana?" He was definitely mocking me with that tone. "Really?"

"Okay. You know what your problem is? You've hated my love for milkshakes ever since the beginning."

If this bitch wants to get into it, we can definitely get into it.

"I have not." He scoffed.

"Yes, you have."

"This is the last time you're ever coming anywhere with me." Costa huffed for the fourth time in the last five minutes.

"Why are you throwing a tantrum? I got you one too."

"I didn't fucking ask for one! I specifically fucking said 'I don't fucking want one'."

So many bad words.

"Oh, please." I scoffed, bringing my straw back to my mouth. "Who really doesn't want one?"

"Me." He deadpanned.

"Well, you're a psycho so you don't count." I shrugged, sipping on my milkshake from the luxury Sicilian gelato and milkshake place we passed.

"We're late now, Millie." He complained, again.

He never gets tired of complaining.

It's always 'We're late now, Millie' or 'I'm going to throw you out this car, Millie'. It's never 'Thank you for the milkshake and for gracing me with your presence, Millie. Here's a diamond necklace to say thank you'.

"Just drink your milkshake. It might help you loosen up a little." He didn't move an inch, he just continued to stare straight ahead at the slow moving traffic. "Oh. Are you saving it for the plane?"

No answer.

"I should have done that." I frowned looking down at my half empty milkshake.

This was definitely one of those moments my father would throw in that 'look at your glass half full, not half empty' line.

I fucking hate that line.

"Can I have yours?"

Still no answer.

"Why are you being such a bitch, Costa?"

"We're an hour late!"

"Ah, he speaks." I grinned, slurping loudly on my milkshake just to annoy him.

His response was delayed while he was busy trying to change lanes. He was definitely aggravated and that was showing in the way he was trying to weave in and out between other cars.

"You're lucky we're moving again otherwise I would have thrown you and your milkshakes out the car."

"So I can have yours too?" I smirked, loving the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

"Shut up."

"See? You hated it from the beginning."

"Only because you were being an irritating little brat." He muttered, his annoyance still getting the better of him.

It's okay. I know how to handle him. I'm still a boss bitch.

"That's not what you were saying last night." I sang, sliding my arms around his waist.

The moment I mentioned our escapades from last night, his steely front began to crack.

All men are the same.

"Well...you were behaving last night."

"Hmm...I can behave again tonight if you want?" I gave him my best flirty smile, channeling my inner boss bitch energy.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I smiled. "If you get me a milkshake."

It took him a few seconds. Men are like that. They need a few seconds to process the fact they're not as in charge as they thought they were.

"Fine." He huffed in defeat, pushing himself away from me. "What flavour?"

"Not banana." I chuckled, causing him to come to a stop. Then he slowly turned to give me that look - the one where I know he's planning my death. "Too soon?"

He cocked an eyebrow, in a 'What do you think?' kind of way.

"Strawberry please." My Miniest Milk loves strawberry.

>>>>>>>