Chapter 19 – Gaspare
The ocean stretches out before us, a massive sheet of glittering silver under the late afternoon sun.
Waves kiss the sand with rhythmic gentleness, the salty breeze lifting the hair off my forehead.
The beach is ours—secluded, private, untouched by the chaos of the world we left behind.
Just a small slice of heaven tucked along the Italian coast.
We were long overdue for a vacation. And Almeria thought it right to show him where his mother came from.
Luca runs ahead of me, barefoot and laughing, his small feet kicking up sand as he waves a plastic shovel in the air like a sword.
Almeria follows at a slower pace, wearing a sundress that flutters around her legs like something out of a dream, her smile soft and full of quiet wonder.
I watch them, my chest tightening almost painfully.
This...
This is what I fought for.
Not power.
Not titles.
Not blood.
Them.
"Come on, Gaspare!" Luca calls over his shoulder, grinning wide, a missing front tooth only making him look more mischievous. "You’re too slow!"
I chuckle, tossing the beach bag down near a set of loungers before jogging after him.
"I’ll show you slow!" I call back, scooping him up under his arms and spinning him in a wide circle.
He shrieks with delighted laughter, his head tipping back, face turned up to the sun.
The sound is pure.
Unbroken.
I hug him closer to my chest for a moment longer than necessary before setting him down gently on the sand.
"Alright, champ," I say, crouching beside him. "You ready for the next big lesson?"
He nods fiercely, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Swimming," I say with mock seriousness. "Lesson one: Don't drown."
Luca bursts out laughing so hard he falls onto the sand.
Almeria laughs too, a soft, musical sound that carries easily on the breeze.
My heart aches with how much I love them.
I lead Luca toward the water’s edge, holding his small hand firmly in mine.
He shivers when the first cool waves lap at his ankles, but he grins through it, determined.
"Okay," I say, crouching down to his level. "First rule of swimming: always respect the ocean. She’s beautiful, but she’s powerful."
He nods solemnly, as if I’ve imparted some sacred secret.
I step deeper, the water swirling around my calves, then my thighs.
Luca hesitates for a moment, then charges after me with a gleeful shout, his little arms flailing.
I laugh and turn to scoop him up before the next wave can knock him over.
"You gotta be faster than that, squirt," I tease.
He wraps his arms tightly around my neck, his face beaming.
I lower us gently into the water until we're waist-deep, still holding him securely.
"Now," I say, "lie back against my arm. Trust me. I won't let you sink."
Luca eyes me nervously but nods.
Slowly, carefully, he leans back, floating with my arm under his shoulders for support.
His eyes widen in wonder.
"You’re doing it," I murmur. "See? You're floating."
He grins, the pure pride on his face shining brighter than the sun overhead.
I guide him through the gentle rocking of the waves, teaching him how to kick his legs, how to paddle his arms.
And he listens.
He tries.
He laughs.
God, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of joy before—this fierce, unrelenting need to protect and nurture.
Not as Gaspare Colosimo, Don of the Syndicate.
But as a man.
As a father.
We spend over an hour in the water.
By the time we stagger back to shore, Luca’s cheeks are flushed with exertion, and he's giggling uncontrollably.
I plop down onto a beach towel, hauling him into my lap, both of us dripping wet and exhausted.
Almeria watches us from under a sun umbrella, her book forgotten in her lap, her eyes warm and shining.
Luca leans his head against my chest, yawning.
Then, drowsily, he mumbles, "Thanks, Dad."
The word punches the air out of my lungs.
I freeze, my arms tightening instinctively around him.
He realizes what he said a second later and stiffens.
"I mean... Gaspare," he says quickly, looking up at me with wide, worried eyes. "Sorry."
I stare at him for a moment, heart thudding painfully against my ribs.
Then I cup his small face gently in my hands.
"Hey," I say softly. "You never have to apologize for that."
He blinks.
"You meant it, right?"
He nods shyly.
I smile and press my forehead to his.
"Then it’s real," I whisper. "And if you want... if you’ll let me... I'd be honored to be your dad."
His face lights up so brightly I feel it burn through every dark part of me.
"Really?" he breathes.
"Really," I say.
He throws his arms around my neck and squeezes tight.
"I want you to be my dad," he says fiercely. "Forever."
I close my eyes against the sudden sting of tears.
"Forever," I promise.
I glance up and catch Almeria watching us.
Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white, her eyes glossy with unshed tears.
But she’s smiling — not a small, timid smile, but a full, radiant one, like the sun breaking through a storm.
And in that moment, everything clicks into place for me.
This is it.
This is family.
Not blood.
Not duty.
Love.
Chosen and fought for.
I hold Luca tighter, feeling the steady thud of his small heart against mine, and I know with a bone-deep certainty that I would kill and die a thousand times over to keep him safe.
To keep them both safe.
Later that night, the villa hums with the quiet sounds of life.
The distant crash of the waves outside the open windows.
The creak of floorboards as Almeria pads barefoot through the kitchen, making tea.
The faint hum of Luca’s voice singing to himself as he changes into his pajamas.
I sit on the couch, legs stretched out, staring into the dimly lit room.
The peace is overwhelming.
I’m not used to it.
It feels fragile, precious.
Like if I breathe too hard, it might shatter.
Almeria comes to sit beside me, curling into my side without a word.
I pull her close, resting my chin on her hair.
For a long time, we say nothing.
Just exist.
Just breathe.
Finally, in the darkness, I whisper, "I’m scared."
She shifts to look up at me, brows knitting.
"Of what?"
I stare at the ceiling, searching for the words.
"Of failing you," I admit hoarsely. "Of failing him. Of not being enough. Of bringing the darkness with me everywhere I go."
Her hand cups my cheek, turning my face back to hers.
"You’re already enough," she says fiercely. "You’ve always been enough."
I close my eyes, letting her words sink in, letting them fill the cracks that even victory hadn’t sealed.
"You saved us," she whispers. "You gave Luca a father. You gave me hope again."
I open my eyes and meet hers.
"And you gave me a reason to be better," I say roughly. "To be more."
She smiles through tears.
"I don’t need more," she whispers. "I just need you."
There’s a soft shuffle of feet in the hallway.
Both Almeria and I turn our heads toward the sound.
A moment later, Luca appears, standing in the doorway to the living room, rubbing his sleepy eyes with the back of his hand.
He’s wearing a set of pajamas a size too big, the pant legs puddling around his ankles.
He clutches his stuffed tiger against his chest, looking so small, so heartbreakingly innocent, that my heart feels like it might burst.
"Can I..." he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, "sleep with you guys tonight?"
Almeria smiles and opens her arms.
Without hesitation, Luca rushes over, climbing into her lap and curling against her side.
She strokes his hair gently, murmuring soft reassurances.
I shift to make room, wrapping my arm around both of them, tucking them in close.
Luca yawns, blinking up at me.
"Goodnight, Dad," he whispers.
I lean down and press a kiss to his forehead.
"Goodnight, son."
His smile is small and sleepy but pure.
Within minutes, he’s fast asleep, his small body rising and falling in the steady rhythm of dreams.
I glance over at Almeria, and she meets my gaze, her eyes shining.
There’s so much emotion between us—love, gratitude, fear, hope—that it feels like the air around us hums with it.
I lean in and kiss her—soft, slow.
A silent promise.
She kisses me back, her fingers twining with mine over Luca’s sleeping form.
When we finally pull apart, we don’t speak.
We just lie there, the three of us, tangled together under the thin summer blanket.
A family.
Built not on blood.
But by choice.
On love.
On battle-scarred hope.
And as I close my eyes, listening to the steady, perfect rhythm of their breathing, I know with a certainty deeper than anything I’ve ever known:
I will never let anyone tear this from me.
Not now.
Not ever.