Epilogue
Giovanni
Luca’s office holds all of us. Jackets off, smudged faces, knuckles scraped.
Nico’s got a cut along his hairline; Antonio’s shirt is marked where someone grabbed him; Vito’s breathing like he ran stairs.
Roberto is neat by instinct, but even he’s smudged at the cuff.
Luca is the only one who looks like he hasn’t been through hell.
And it’s only because Elena didn’t want him joining the raid on the warehouse.
Bianca is upstairs in the borrowed room. The shower kicked on the second we walked in. By the time we arrived, she looked dead on her feet, adrenaline burned out, and nothing left.
All I wanted was to take her in my arms, wash the night off her, and put her to bed. Next to me. But there are things to finish.
We don’t bother to sit, each leaning against something. Me, ready to finish and go.
Antonio reaches into his bag and comes up with an old gray flip phone, the kind that survives a fall.
“Want to do the honors?” He holds it out to me.
“My pleasure.”
The plastic is warm in my palm. I key in a number and press call. The line rings in my ear. Once. Twice. Three times. I hang up.
We don’t talk. We don’t have to. We wait.
Even across town, the sound reaches us. Deep first, then a hard crack that rolls under the floors and through the glass.
Luca’s eyes lift a fraction. Vito’s mouth tilts into a smirk of satisfaction. Somewhere in the house, Alessandra fusses, and Elena’s voice hushes her.
I picture the map we laid out: the load-bearing points under the east wing, the service tunnel that would carry heat and power, the shaped charges tucked behind conduit, the last gift under Adriano’s office floor set to wake on that call.
Antonio prepped the timings. Nico checked the runs. I placed the last explosive myself.
If Adriano died in the blast, all the better.
If he lived, he heard us just fine. And he learned the only lesson that matters: don’t touch what’s mine.
I leave the others with their bruises and plans and take the stairs two at a time. The borrowed room is dim. Steam edges the bathroom door. I don’t bother to knock, just go in.
She’s under the spray, hair slicked back, eyes closed. The sight hits me in the chest. I set my gun on the counter, strip fast, and step in behind her.
The water is hot; her skin is hotter. I wrap my arms around her from behind and pull her in.
She turns and folds against me like she did in the dark room where she was being held captive, only now there’s nothing between us.
Her breasts press softly against me. Her hands clamp around me.
I breathe into her hair and feel a knot in me loosen.
We stand like that until the rush in my head eases. When I pull back, there’s a small gray smudge high on her cheekbone—ash or dirt from the crawl. I brush it with my thumb, and she gives me a tired, soft smile.
“Now you’ll have to bathe all over again,” I say gently.
She lifts the sponge from the dish and offers it. “Help me?”
My breath catches. Heat climbs my throat. I take the sponge from her hand.
“Yes,” I whisper.
The soap smells of pine. I lather it over the curve of her hip, the small of her back. She keeps her hands on my shoulders, her head tipped back, eyes closed. Droplets cling to her lashes. My knuckles slide between her thighs, and her breath hitches.
I rinse her slowly, watch the water sluice soap away. When I’m done, she takes the soap from me.
Her hands are steady, sure. She lathers my chest, my arms, the heavy muscles of my shoulders. She cleans my hands, careful with my knuckles, then traces the path down my stomach. The air in the shower is thick and heated, the sound of the spray loud in my ears.
She looks up at me. Her eyes are dark in the steam.
“Come to bed,” she whispers.
I turn off the water. We step out onto the bathmat. I grab a towel and dry her, starting with her hair, then her shoulders, her back, her legs. She watches me the whole time.
When I straighten, she takes the towel from me and dries me with the same slow care. When she’s done, she presses her lips to mine, a light, quick touch.
Then she takes my hand and leads me to the bed.
The sheets are cool. I pull her down with me and roll over her, and she opens to me. The kiss is deep, slow, tasting of water and pine. I trail my fingers down her throat, her breasts, the soft curve of her belly. She arches into me, a soft sound in her throat. I want to devour her inch by inch.
But I also want to be gentle after the ordeal she's had. I hover over her, looking at her.
She reaches up and traces my jaw. “Gio,” she whispers. “Take me. Make me yours again."
I’m undone. I lower my head, kiss her again, harder this time, and we lose ourselves in each other. There is no world outside this room, no danger, no past.
"You are mine. Always and forever, mia," I whisper before sweeping my lips over her throat, tasting her skin. "And I'm yours. Only yours."
I feel her tears on my shoulder.
"I missed you, Gio," she whispers. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again."
My throat tightens. "I'm here," I say, my voice thick. "I'm here now and I’m not leaving."
I kiss her tears away, then her lips, a slow, deep, claiming kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist, pulling me in. I move my lips down her body, tasting, memorizing. Her hard nipple slides along my tongue before I close my lips around it.
With my other hand, I plump her firm breast and squeeze gently. Her head drops back against the pillow in submission, a moan escaping her lips. She writhes beneath me as I move to her other breast, then my palm glides down her stomach, savoring her soft skin.
She trembles and parts her legs wider for me. My fingers delve into the slick, wet heat of her cunt. She's ready for me. She's always ready for me. But not yet.
I trail my lips down her stomach, her thighs. I kiss the soft skin on the insides of her thighs, then the slick, wet folds of her pussy. She gasps, her hips lifting off the bed. I flick my tongue against her clit, then again, harder.
"Oh, God," she cries out.
I taste her sweetness, my tongue swirling around her, drawing out her pleasure. Her fingers tangle in my hair, her hips moving against my mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I know her body so well. I know what she likes, what she needs.
I feel her climax building, the tension coiling in her body. Her thighs clamp around my head as she shudders, her cries filling the room. I don't stop, my tongue lapping at her, drawing out her pleasure until she collapses, limp, on the bed.
I kiss my way back up her body, my lips leaving a trail of fire. She opens her arms to me, her eyes dark with desire. I settle over her, my cock at her entrance.
"Please, Gio," she whispers.
I thrust into her in one smooth stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She cries out, her body arching to meet me. I stay still for a moment, savoring the feeling of her, tight and wet and hot around me.
Then I begin to move, a slow, steady rhythm. Her hips rise to meet me, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me deeper. I kiss her, our tongues tangling, our bodies moving together as one.
"Look at me, mia," I command, my voice low.
Her eyes flutter open, dazed with pleasure.
"Tell me you're mine," I say, my hips thrusting harder. "Say it."
"I'm yours, Gio," she whispers, her voice husky. "All yours."
Her nails dig into the skin of my shoulders.
"Take me," she cries out. "Make me yours. Please."
I increase my pace, my thrusts harder, faster. I feel her body tighten around me, her legs clamping around my waist. I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles.
"Gio, more," she moans. "I want it all."
Her response is my undoing. With a growl, I thrust harder, my thumb working her clit. Her scream is muffled against my palm as her orgasm rips through her.
"You want it all, do you?" I say huskily. "You want to be mine?"
"Yes, please," she whines, writing under me, already ready for more.
All at once, I pull out of her.
Before she can protest, I've flipped her over onto her knees and pull her ass high. I slam into her pussy from behind and groan at the new tightness. "Then take me, mia," I growl, slapping her ass. "Take all of me."
Helpless to do anything but take it, she lies with her face pressed to the pillow, dulling her cries and screams, as I slam into her again and again.
"You feel so good," I moan, curling my fingers into her hair.
"So do you," she cries out. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
My fingers wet with her juices, I let them circle her puckered rear hole, testing its resistance. She gasps and goes stiff.
"Relax for me," I rasp. "Let me in here, too. All of you, right?" She shudders at my words, her body arching. Then she relaxes, a silent invitation.
I ease a finger in, her tight heat a vise around it. She whimpers, a sound of pleasure and pain. I work her with my finger, stretching her, my cock still buried deep in her pussy. "One more," I say, and a second finger joins the first.
She's panting, her body trembling. I can feel her getting close again.
I quicken my thrusts, using my hips to drive deep into her, while my fingers move in and out of her rear hole gently. Her body tightens around me, her cries growing louder.
"Give it to me," I growl. "Give me all of you."
With a final, shuddering cry, she comes, her body convulsing, her pussy clamping around my cock, her rear hole tightening around my fingers. I follow her over the edge, my own release flooding through me, my seed spilling deep inside her.
We collapse on the bed, our bodies tangled, our breathing ragged. I hold her, my arms wrapped around her, her head on my chest. Her heartbeat is a steady, calming rhythm against my skin.
I kiss the top of her head, her hair still damp.
"Sleep now," I whisper. "I've got you."
"Not yet," she murmurs. "I need to tell you something."
"It's not important right now," I say, hushing her.
"No, it is. It is," she repeats. She pushes up on her elbow and looks at me. Her eyes hold the lingering pleasure, but they're clear now. Determined.
"What is it, mia?" I ask, pushing a lock of hair away from her face.
"I think..." she whispers. "I think I'm pregnant."
My whole body goes still. For a second, the world tilts on its axis. A baby. My baby. Growing inside her.
I stare at her, my mind racing. The implications, the dangers, the sheer impossibility of it all crash over me.
And then, a wave of fierce, possessive joy. Mine. All mine.
I frame her face with my hands, my thumbs stroking her cheeks.
"Pregnant?" I repeat, my voice a hoarse whisper. "Are you sure?"
"No," she says. "But yes. I don't know. When I was... there, I just knew. I know it's too soon, but—"
I pull her against me, burying my face in her hair. The world can wait. For now, she is here, and she might be carrying my child. And I will protect them both with my life.
I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. A slow, lingering kiss full of promises.
"Then we'll take a test," I say, my voice steady, for her sake. Inside, I'm all but vibrating with joy.
"When?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.
"As soon as the sun's up," I say. "Actually, as soon as you call your mother."
She laughs. "I should probably do that."
"She thinks you've been really jet-lagged," I say.
"And she's going to keep thinking that," she says resolutely.
"I think that would be best," I whisper.
She presses her cheek to mine and snuggles into me.
"Is it true?" she murmurs. "That you've been keeping the Russos away from Regalia? And that you've been using the debt money to fix up the neighborhood and protect our businesses?"
I stiffen. "Where did you hear that, Bibi?" I ask.
She just asks again. "Is it true?"
I relax under her. "You weren't supposed to know that," I grumble.
"I love you, Gio," she whispers.
The words send heat sweeping through me. Not the sexual kind, although...yes, that too. But this is different. Deeper. Emotion so deep it might drown me. I'm not a poet. I don't have the words for this. So I do the only thing I can. I show her.
I roll her onto her back, my body covering hers. I take her face in my hands and kiss her. I pour all of my joy and fear and hope into the kiss. I pour all of me into it. My tongue sweeps into her mouth, claiming her. My hands roam her body, re-learning every curve, every hollow, every dip.
She's panting when I pull back, her hands on my shoulders, her legs cradling my hips.
"I love you, too," I say, the words rough and clumsy. "More than you know."
I slide into her in one smooth motion. And we're home.
This isn't about taking or claiming. Not anymore. This is about worship. I move inside her, slow and deep, my eyes locked on hers. Her hands roam my back, her nails lightly scoring my skin. Her hips meet me, stroke for stroke.
"I want to have your babies, Gio," she says.
My rhythm falters. I stop, buried deep inside her.
"it seems you already are," I say, my voice cracking.
"More," she whispers. "A ton of them."
A laugh bubbles in my chest, and I begin to move again, my strokes slow and deep. My heart is so full, I think it might burst.
"I love you, Bibi," I whisper. "I love you so much."
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. "I love you, too."
We stay like that for a long time, our bodies moving together, our whispers filling the room. It's slow and sweet, a gentle, steady climb. There's no rush. There's only us. There's only this.
I slide my hands under her ass and lift her, changing the angle. I go deeper, and she gasps.
"You're mine," I whisper against her lips.
"Yours," she whispers back.
I feel her body start to tighten, her breath catching in her throat. I know her body, know every signal, every tell. I know she's close.
I reach between us, my thumb finding her clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles.
"Gio," she gasps, her hips bucking against my hand.
"Let go for me," I murmur. "Let go."
She cries out, her body convulsing around me, her release flooding over her. I follow her, my own orgasm tearing through me, my whole body shaking with the force of it. I pour myself into her, my seed spilling deep inside her, hoping, praying, wishing.
We lay together for a long time, our bodies tangled, our breathing ragged. I hold her, my arms wrapped around her, her head on my chest. Her heartbeat is a steady, calming rhythm against my skin.
I kiss the top of her head, her hair still damp. "Sleep now," I whisper. "I've got you."
This time, she does. Her breathing evens out, her body relaxing against mine. I hold her, watching her sleep, my heart aching with a love so fierce it hurts. The darkness is outside, but in here, in this room, there's only light.
And her.
And a baby. Our baby.