Epilogue #2
“I’m happy for you. Both of you,” he says. Ghost still looks well—apparently he’s stayed sober and even put on some more muscle since I last saw him in Vegas. He’s found his place in there, just as I’ve found mine here.
It wasn’t easy.
When we came back to New York after the trip, I thought Matteo and Leonardo were going to shoot me for even thinking of touching Gabriella.
Hell, they probably would have if Gabriella hadn’t threatened to cut the entire family off and run if they killed me.
Her brave little speech bought me time, but it didn’t stop the tension that followed.
For weeks, Matteo and I were barely civil.
He felt I’d violated his trust, and he wasn’t wrong—I’d known how he’d feel about it, and I’d let it happen anyway.
The silence between us was worse than any confrontation.
It was Gabriella who finally forced the issue.
They spoke privately one evening, and I don’t know what was said by either of them.
I didn’t ask. I refuse to come between Gabriella and her family more than I have already.
What I know is that he came to find me the next evening, and we sat together for a long time saying very little, and by the end of it, something had shifted.
Matteo’s greatest fear had been that I’d been conducting a secret affair behind his back for God knows how long—I was able to look him in the eye and tell him honestly that I hadn’t.
That when I recognized what I felt for Gabriella, I had fought it.
That the trip changed things, and I hadn’t been able to make myself turn away.
After that, the Rossi brothers made their position clear—hurt her, and there would be consequences. I accepted every word. Still, the most important thing was this: No other man could care for Gabriella the way I always will. With that understood, I finally had their blessing.
“Invite me to the wedding,” Ghost says, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “I have a feeling it might happen sooner than later.”
At his words, I turn to Gabriella, smiling when I spot her walking toward us.
Everything else fades away, and my heart picks up as it always does when she’s near.
Tonight, she’s wearing a long, flowing white dress that shimmers under the gallery light.
It’s simple, elegant, and it makes her look like an angel.
The fabric shifts as she walks, draping over her figure in a way that makes me picture her walking down the aisle to me.
“Yep, you’re a goner.”
Ghost’s voice is a distant hum in my head as I watch Gabriella make her way to me, her smile radiant. I wait until she’s in my arms to press a kiss on her temple. “Tired?” I whisper into her hair.
“Not really?” she says, lifting her face to look into my eyes.
“I saw you speaking with Leonardo,” I say, nodding to the dried tears on her cheeks. “Everything alright?”
She nods. “We’re having a lunch date tomorrow. He wants to know everything that’s happening in my life. My plans for the gallery. And I get to talk to him about this guy I’m seeing,” she teases.
“Oh yeah, will you tell him the guy is madly in love with you?”
She bites her bottom lip, which she knows drives me crazy. “I might mention it at lunch tomorrow. Depending on how he treats me tonight.”
“Is that so?” I muse, dropping my hand down to her ass and squeezing it, watching her eyes go bright with need. “I will treat you very nicely tonight then. How about I—”
Someone clears their throat, and Gabriella looks over my shoulder to spot my brother. “I know I’m called Ghost, but most people swear they can see me,” Ghost says, not without humor.
“Oh, sorry, Ghost,” Gabriella says with a blush, trying and failing to detangle herself from my arms. “Nico!”
I’m about to whisper something about her squirming ass doing things to my cock when I spot a tray of champagne glasses carried by a passing waiter, so I release her to snag two.
I pass one to Gabriella with a smile before tapping my ring against the side of the other to get everyone’s attention.
The room quiets as everyone turns to me, and I notice my girlfriend’s flush from all the attention.
“Alright, everyone, I’d like to say something.
Sorry to keep you away from the free food and open bar, but I won’t talk for too long.
” A good-humored chuckle moves through the crowd.
“I’m absolutely thrilled to be here tonight, to look out and see everyone show up to celebrate Gabriella’s special day. ”
I wrap my arm around and pull her to my side, pressing my lips to her temple before turning to the crowd.
“I’m very proud of her. For everything she’s accomplished, and I can’t wait to see what she does next.
I promise to be there for the journey, as I told Matteo when I came back from Vegas and asked for his blessing.
Which he eventually gave.” Another laugh.
“But seriously—tonight is about celebrating Gabriella. Looking at her now, I’m reminded of how far we’ve come.
From being there for each other to accepting that our feelings ran deeper than either of us was willing to acknowledge. ”
When I turn to Gabriella, I notice the smile dancing on her face—the purity of it, the openness.
“She’s beautiful, intelligent, kind, loving, and the most talented person I’ve ever met.
Every day, I learn so much from her. She makes me a better man, and I never want to know a life where she isn’t with me.
” I watch the smile on her lips falter and her pretty brown eyes widen with shock as I drop on one knee—right in the center of her gallery, in front of all our family.
“Gabriella Rossi, I want you to know how incredibly lucky I am to have you in my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Make me the happiest man in the world and marry me.”
“Nico!”
The next hour is a blur of laughter, happy tears, kissing, a staggering number of champagne bottles being popped open, and rough claps on my shoulder that I’m certain I’ll feel tomorrow.
The air turns merry as people talk, drink, and pour ridiculous amounts of money into the art on the walls, and when the evening winds to a close, and I’ve pushed the last couple into their car to be driven home, I finally let out a relieved sigh.
I find Gabriella in the studio at the back of the gallery, not painting but watching her engagement ring catch the light. “Do you like it?”
“It was my mother’s, wasn’t it?” she asks, turning her finger toward the light.
“I’ve only seen it in pictures. Papa tucked her jewelry away and never let anyone near it.
When Matteo got married, he gave Sofia my mother’s wedding necklace.
He gave Antonio a small silver locket she always wore, Dante got my mother’s heirloom pearl earrings to gift to his bride, Enzo was gifted with my mother’s engraved watch, and I always wondered what…
whether I would get something she wore at her wedding. ”
“He kept her ring just for you. It’s a family heirloom—one of the few things she carried with her from Italy,” I say, walking to her. “He gave it to me when I told him I intended to marry you.”
“I love it,” she says, looping her arms around my neck, brushing her lips softly over mine. “You were wrong about something in your speech.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask, dropping my hands to her ass and pulling her against me.
“I’ve known I loved you since I was fourteen, maybe younger,” she says, catching me off guard. “You were the one having a harder time accepting it. I wasn’t.” She leans away when I move in to kiss her. “I finally got you where I’ve always wanted you.”
“Let me kiss you.”
“You will,” she promises, a gleam in her eyes. “But first, I want to try something.”
Before I can stop her, she slips from my arms and crosses to the corner of the studio. I watch her grab a folded white sheet and bring it to the center. “You want to paint— now?” I ask, my cock throbbing painfully at the thought of waiting any longer to be inside of her. “Principessa…”
“Let’s paint each other,” she says, turning from the sheet to collect a handful of paint cans and set them down before gathering brushes. “I want you to be my canvas for the night.”
“It pains my soul to think of that beautiful dress getting paint on it,” I say, moving to touch her.
“Who says I’ll be wearing it?” she teases, sending what’s left of my blood rushing south. There is a wicked gleam in her eyes as she reaches up to work the buttons of my shirt. “You said I’m talented. Don’t you want to see me at work—painting you, letting you paint me.”
“Goddamn, baby, how did I land someone like you?” I growl, crashing my mouth to hers in a long, deep kiss. She whimpers in my arms, fingers moving impatiently over me, so I move to help her, shrugging off my shirt. I break the kiss and spin her around to unzip her dress.
What follows is a flurry of touches, strokes of wet brushes across skin, my lips finding hers every few seconds. It’s deeply arousing, and when I haul her to straddle me, we’re covered in paint and practically vibrating with need.
“Mine!” I growl low into her neck as I push up into her wet, tight heat.
She cries out as I fill her in one rough stroke, hands gripping my shoulders.
Chanting my name in a fevered moan as I move.
Fuck, she’s wet and tight and so dam hot—the way she clenches around me, the sounds she makes as our paint-slicked skin slides against one other.
“Faster, Nico,” she whimpers, her moans climbing in volume.
With a snarl, I spin her around, lowering her onto the paint-streaked sheet, gripping her hips as I thrust into her. My eyes stay on her, drinking in every expression that crosses her face as my cock fills her. “My principessa…my fiancée. Mine.”
“Yours,” she sobs, tits bouncing with every thrust, the desperate need to bury myself deeper and make her a part of me overwhelming everything. Christ, I would climb into her skin if I could and make us one. Mind, body, and soul.
“You’re everything,” I growl when she bucks against me, her hips trembling.
“I love you so much, baby. Come for me.” I drop my mouth down to her chest, lips closing around her nipple moments before her back arches off the floor with a cry, legs locking around me as she clenches hard around my cock and takes me with her.
I come with a groan, driving deep as I empty myself into her.
It’s her name on my lips, in my mind and heart as I pour everything into her. It’s her name that stays long after we’ve both collapsed onto the floor in a mess of paint, heavy breathing, and damp skin.
“You’re squishing me, Nico.”
“Oh, sorry,” I laugh, sitting up and taking her hand to bring her up with me. I look around the mess we’ve made and laugh again. “I had no idea lovemaking could be an art form.”
“I think this might be my favorite piece ever,” she says, turning around to look at it.
“We’ll hang it in our bedroom so we can remember this day,” I say, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her back down. “I do think it could use a few more strokes of color, don’t you?”
“In my expert opinion…I think you are right,” she grins, combing her hands through my hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulling my lips down to her. “Maybe we can start another one when we run out of space on this sheet.”
“I’m all yours, baby.”
Tonight, the next one, and every last one after that.
~The End
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