41. Epilogue
LOVE LIKE THIS DOESN’T DIE
My wife is nesting.
Which, in Amara-speak, means she’s horny, moody, and organizing the pantry like it’s a military op.
And she’s huge.
I mean, glowing , sure. Beautiful, always. But also—massive.
And she keeps eyeing me like she wants to climb me like a goddamn tree.
I smirk just thinking about it.
She waddled into the living room yesterday, pointed at me with a piece of cantaloupe, and said, “Don’t make any plans tonight unless they involve your mouth or your fingers.”
That baby better come soon, or I’m going to die from overuse.
Matteo laughs when I tell him.
“I told you so,” he says, sipping espresso like he didn’t just drop the smuggest I’m-the-smartest line in the book. “I told you it’s all worth it. The angst, the fear, the highs, the lows—it’s like we turn into hormonal women just by our proximity to them.”
“Speak for yourself,” I mutter. “I still shoot people with a smile.”
He grins. “Sure. But admit it. Your heart melts when she sleeps on your chest. ”
“Only once.” I pause, but he’s still looking at me. “Well, yeah, you’re right. It’s the best feeling in the world.”
We’re sitting on the back terrace of the Borrelli estate, the sun is low, whiskey has been poured, and for once, we’re not actively planning how to dismantle someone’s empire.
“What a relief,” Matteo says, “there are no adult Borrelli men cursed and bleeding for love. We’ve got time. Time to regroup and breathe.”
“And time for Lorenzo to grow up,” I chuckle.
“Let’s not jinx it,” he mutters.
Then—
Ring.
My burner buzzes against the glass tabletop. I glance at the screen. Unlisted. But I know who it is.
I answer, lifting the phone slowly.
“Vukan.”
His voice is calm. Measured. Like always.
“I’m calling in my favor.” I listen.
Then— click.
Dial tone.
I stare at the phone, frozen for half a second.
Matteo raises a brow. “That sounded ominous.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “He called in his favor. He’s asked for Bianca’s hand in marriage.”
Matteo chokes on his drink. “ What? ”
“We can’t refuse,” I grit. “We made a deal.”
Silence. Then?—
Matteo leans back, groaning. “Well… there goes the peace.”
I stare out at the lawn where Amara is sitting in the sun, one hand on her belly, and that little secret smile she saves just for me on her face.
She and Bianca are tight. I don’t know how she’ll take the news since she, herself, was forced into an arranged marriage. I’m sure Bianca will go ballistic, but maybe an older man is precisely what she needs to settle down. Vukan was the better of the two brothers. I wonder how this will play out….
Read the last book in the series, Ruined Vows, next!
Every war has casualties.
I just didn’t expect to be handed over like one.
Now my brother wants me to marry the enemy?—
A man with blood on his hands and ice in his eyes.
But I don’t break that easily.
I never have.
So I give him a deal: ten dates to win me over.
If he fails, I walk—no second chances.
And I promise?—
I’ll make him bleed for every second he spends trying to tame me.
I’m Bianca Borrelli.
And no man takes me without a fight.
She thinks it’s a game.
Ten dates. Ten chances to win her over.
But I’m not playing.
I don’t chase—I claim.
I only agreed to her terms because the second she set rules, I knew I’d already won. She can pretend she’s in control—act like she has a choice.
She doesn’t. Not really.
I’ll give her ten nights.
Ten nights to fall.
Ten nights to learn that no one will ever want her, protect her, or f*ck her the way I do.
And if she still tries to walk away?
Then I’ll take her anyway.
I’ll ruin every man who’s ever touched her, burn every bridge she tries to cross.
Because she’s already mine.
And I don’t give up what belongs to me.
Not ever.
Vukan Petrovi?
Ruined Vows