Epilogue
Dante
3 years later
My wife is exquisite.
Naked, draped across our sheets, her hair cascading over the pillow in inky waves. Her breathing is slow, even. And I haven’t moved for the past ten minutes. I sit here, watching her. Every feature. Every detail.
If I didn’t know she needed the rest, after I spent half the night waking her up because I needed her, over and over again, I’d already be inside her once more, buried so deep she wouldn’t remember her own name.
She stirs slightly, as if she feels my gaze skating over her bare skin. A soft smile tugs at her lips.
“You’re up early,”
she murmurs, voice husky with sleep.
I lean down, press a kiss to her forehead.
She stretches slowly, arms lifting over her head, her spine arching just enough to make a low growl rise from my chest. Her naked form on full display, and I am utterly starved for it.
Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep.
“We have guests today,”
she says, already knowing my mood.
“My father, my brothers. Sofia called. She and Elena are coming too.”
I grunt, pulling her closer, my cock pressed firmly to the curve of her backside.
“Guests? At this point, they’re practically fucking residents with how often they visit.”
“I thought by now you’d be used to it,”
she hums, pressing a kiss to my jaw.
I nuzzle her shoulder, her neck, lower.
“I tolerate them because of you.”
She laughs, gently pushing at my chest. “Behave.”
I don’t. My hands trail down her back as she slips out of bed, walking toward the bathroom, hips swaying with intention. She’s doing it on purpose. And fuck me, if I don’t want to eat her.
By noon, the garden is brimming with life.
The long table is arranged beneath the lemon trees, white linen rippling in the breeze, crystal glasses glinting in the sun.
Giovanni sits beside Harlow, and I watch them with quiet satisfaction.
It took time, but they’ve forged something real between them, a bond that can’t be broken.
I watch as she leans into him, smiling, and he drapes an arm around her shoulders like he never wants to let go.
Niccolò and Leonardo are bickering again. Some things, clearly, never change.
Mattia is eleven now, all legs and endless opinions. He’s explaining something animatedly to Luka, his voice echoing through the garden.
And Luka, eighteen now, calm, sharp, precise, he starts university this fall, though it’s more for Harlow’s sake than his own. He made it very clear over a year ago that he intends to work for the family.
We adopted him legally after the surgery. Harlow cried for days, overwhelmed with joy. Luka was already ours, but the papers made it official. Gave him the home and the certainty he’d never had. That we’d always be there. That he belonged.
Harlow laughs at something Giovanni says, and the sound draws me to her instantly. I stride across the garden, pulling her into my arms. She laughs softly, and Giovanni grumbles, but as always, I don’t give a fuck.
I move her a few steps away, just for myself.
She looks up at me, cheeks flushed with warmth.
“You know what I always wondered?”
I smirk.
“What’s that, love?”
“Why I ended up marrying you instead of Leonardo.”
A low growl leaves my throat. Jealousy ignites in my chest at the mere thought of her with anyone else.
Never.
I know she’s mine, but even the memory of those conversations makes my blood boil. I could kill the bastard, nephew or not.
“Because,”
I say darkly.
“the moment I saw you in that police station, I knew you were mine.
And I would’ve brought the world to its knees before letting another man lay claim to you.
We were negotiating alliances, arranging marriage between families, but that came at a cost.
You being engaged to Leonardo, even for a breath, was the price I paid to make certain you would belong to me.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment, then shakes her head.
“You’re mad.”
“No,”
I correct.
“I’m obsessed. With you. For the rest of my life.”
She rolls her eyes, amused. And she’s glowing.
The nightmares have nearly stopped.
There was only one this year.
She still has her therapy sessions with Dr. Verdi, and she’s doing well. She returned to her routine, the gym, she even considered taking up self-defence again. And then, she made her decision.
She opened a shelter.
A place for women in violent situations.
A refuge. Somewhere safe, with food, therapy, legal aid. And self-defence classes. I’ve never been more proud of her.
“There’s something I meant to ask you,” I murmur.
She smirks, throwing my words back at me.
“What’s that?”
“You were at the doctor’s office a few days ago. Why?”
I narrow my eyes.
She narrows hers back, playing innocent. “What?”
I step in closer, my voice a low warning in her ear.
“Don’t lie to me, Harlow. I had eyes on you.”
She groans.
“You’re an insufferable stalker.”
“Yes,”
I reply, without so much as an attempt to deny it.
“I make it my business to know everything about you.”
“We’re changing doctors,”
I add coldly.
She arches a brow.
I scowl.
“I held her at gunpoint, and she still refused to disclose why you were there.”
She laughs.
“You’re actually insane. But somehow, I still love you.”
I nip at her ear.
“You don’t have a choice. You’re mine, forever.”
My voice drops to a growl.
“Tell me, Harlow. Are you ill?”
She glances toward the table where our family laughs and talks, then back at me, her expression softer.
“Luka’s starting university. Mattia’s growing too fast.”
Her fingers drift to my chest, resting over my heart.
“Don’t you think the house feels a little too quiet lately?”
My breath stills. My entire body freezes.
She looks up at me, her expression serene.
“I thought maybe… we should fill it again.”
Fuck.
My hands are on her instantly.
“You stopped the contraception?”
She nods once, and that’s all I need. I lift her clean off the ground and throw her over my shoulder without a word.
“Dante!”
she shrieks, laughing.
“Put me down!”
“Are you telling me I’ve been filling you for days with nothing stopping me?”
My voice is low and dangerous.
“That there’s nothing, nothing, preventing me from putting a child in you?”
“Dante—”
I slap her ass, hard.
“Leonessa, I will not stop until you leave that bedroom pregnant.”
She’s still laughing when I shove the door open and carry her inside.
“We have guests!”
she protests breathlessly.
“I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine. And I want the entire world to see what mine looks like, barefoot, pregnant, and glowing with my name written across your skin.”
She groans, half laughing, half defiant.
“You’re already picking names, aren’t you?”
I lay her across the bed and kiss her like I own every breath she takes.
“It’s a girl.”
She arches a brow.
“You don’t know that. And I’m not even pregnant.”
“You don’t know that,”
I match her tone, a growl in my voice.
She rolls her eyes.
“Actually, a girl sounds good. I’m outnumbered in this house full of boys.”
I trail my mouth down her throat, peeling her clothes away slowly.
She laughs again, fingers threading through my hair as I settle over her, right where I belong.
And this time, I don’t stop.