Epilogue
Chiara
Six years later
Iswear loudly when I look up from my screen and realize my favorite show has started.
Thankfully, I’ve only missed the first five minutes, which is mostly a recap of the previous episode.
Slamming my laptop shut with a bang, I toss it aside and grab my drink, ready for the latest episode of All Saints General on the flat-screen TV across the room.
This week’s episode begins with a major incident, which is pretty normal. There are very few hospitals in real life that have to deal with terrorist attacks, earthquakes, and serial killers on a weekly basis. Still, it makes for compelling viewing.
Maggie Karns, the show’s resident cougar ER trauma surgeon, sashays onto screen, hair immaculate and her red lipstick on point, despite having spent the last two hours (allegedly) sewing limbs back on.
“I’m taking a break,” she barks at a nurse. “Call me when Mr. Hudson’s test results come back.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Blair says. Dr. Karns steps away before pausing dramatically and turning to face the camera. She bites her lip. “Is Doctor Carelli in yet?”
“Yes, Doctor Delicious…sorry, Carelli, arrived ten minutes ago. He was called into the Medical Director’s office.”
Maggie Karns inhales dramatically, gripping her stethoscope against her boobs, before rushing off-camera. I know what’s about to happen, but I’m still on the edge of my seat, eager for the latest drama to unfold. This might be a daytime soap, but it’s addictive as hell.
The scene shifts to the office, where Doctor Delicious, All Saints General’s resident heartthrob, has the sexy Medical Director, Alicia Constanza, pressed against a filing cabinet.
Damn, they look like fire together, but in real life, Monique, a.k.a. Alicia, is happily married to Holly, who’s expecting twins any day now.
“Baby, I can’t do this any longer,” Luka, a.k.a. Dr. Carelli, a.k.a. Doctor Delicious, groans. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“I know, my angel, I feel the same way!” The camera zooms in on Alicia. Her gorgeous caramel eyes swim with tears, and when she reaches up and cups Luka’s chiseled jaw, I lean forward.
Fuck, he’s hot. The camera loves him. The guy has no bad angles. No wonder the audience ratings have gone stratospheric since he joined the show. I swear, he has the most rabid fans, but tough shit, he’s all mine.
“I booked us tickets, so we can—” The office door slams into the wall. Several framed certificates fall off. Dr. Karns bursts in, her eyes bulging with rage.
“You bitch!” she screams. There’s a flash as she raises a gleaming metal scalpel. I gasp as it swings down toward Luka and Alicia, but before we can find out what happens next, the show cuts to the credits.
“For fuck’s sake!” Luka refuses to tell me where this storyline is going, even after I threatened to withhold sex for a week. He just laughed and said there was no way I’d stick to it.
Well, the joke’s on him.
“I thought you were working?” Angelo glares at me from the doorway of my office, his arms folded. How that man fills out a suit is criminal, I think, before I cackle to myself. Criminal indeed. Just as well he has me to make sure the company pays its taxes on time.
Like I love to remind him, it was unpaid taxes, not violent crimes, that led to the downfall of Al Capone.
“I am working. This is my lunch break.” I point to a wilted cheese sandwich still in its plastic wrapper. He frowns when he sees my half-eaten lunch, which I grabbed from the vending machine earlier.
“Is that all you’ve had to eat?” The minute the words leave his lips, I know I’m in for a lecture. The man just can’t help himself.
“Um, yes?”
“Grab your things. We’re going to Carloni’s for lunch.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I thought you had a meeting with the Commissioner?”
“We’re done.” He throws me a triumphant smile. “He’s given our project the green light.”
“Amazing what a difference a few photos make.” I laugh.
Commissioner Grant was proving difficult.
The man thought he could hold out for a bigger slice of the pie, but it turned out he’s been banging his PA behind his wife’s back.
Rather than risk a ruinously expensive divorce, it looks like he’s backed down on his demands.
“Yeah. Once the project is underway, Kane will make sure his wife finds out what her adulterous husband gets up to on his golfing weekends.”
I nod approvingly. Having met the man a few times, I can honestly say he deserves all karma dishes him. Whereas his wife is the sweetest woman, Commissioner Grant is a lecherous old goat.
“Ready?” Kane asks from the doorway. Like Angelo, he’s wearing a suit today, only his shirt is gray, not white, and he’s forgone the tie.
“For pizza? Always.”
Angelo strides across the room and helps me up. At seven months pregnant, I look like a beached whale. And most days, I feel like one.
This baby seems determined to make me suffer. Much like his father.
“Best get those calories in, kitten. We go on our babymoon tomorrow, so you’ll need them.”
I huff loudly as we head toward the elevators.
“Not sure what your plans are, but mine involve lying on a beach while working through my Kindle backlog.”
Kane leans in as the elevator doors swish open. “My only plan is to fuck my wife all day long, which means you’ll need those calories.” I shiver at the thought of having all three of my husbands on call to meet my needs.
Not gonna lie, my libido is off the scale right now, so having three virile men at my disposal is a blessing.
Angelo glares at Kane before stabbing the button for the basement garage. “She’s my wife, so the only fucking going on will involve me.”
“And what if I decide I’m too exhausted for sex?” Never going to happen, but it’s amusing to see both of them exchange worried looks.
“Would you rather go home and take a nap?” Angelo slips straight into caretaker mode while pulling his phone out. “Let me call Miranda so she can check you over before we fly in the morning.”
“Jesus, I was joking!” I roll my eyes at his ridiculous need to control every aspect of this pregnancy. Honestly, if he had his way, I’d be on permanent bed rest, wrapped in alpaca blankets and guzzling healthy smoothies all day long. “I had my checkup yesterday, as you well know.”
Angelo insists on accompanying me on every prenatal checkup. It’s suffocating at times, but understandable given how long I’ve made him wait for baby number two.
After Lucia, named after Luka because he won the bet, I announced I was done having kids. My vagina needed a permanent break. Pushing a bowling ball out is no fucking joke. But in time the memories faded, and then Angelo got me drunk on tequila, which is why baby number two is on his way.
“Stop acting like a mother hen. Our wife is fine.” Kane slides his hand over my ass and smirks.
“Hands off my wife. Not in front of the employees.”
“Such a grump,” I tease before shimmying away from Kane’s wandering hands.
Angelo opens his arms and pulls me close. He kisses my neck while resting his hand on my swollen belly.
Our baby kicks hard in response, and he sighs happily. “Little Antonio is planning a career in the NFL.”
“We’re not calling our son Antonio,” I grumble. “He’s going to be called Riordan, after my favorite book boyfriend.”
“We are not naming our son after a fucking fictional character!” Angelo is apoplectic at the very idea, but I’m resolute.
“Since none of you can agree, I get the final choice, and Riordan is the name I want. Besides, Luka likes it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Luka will agree to anything you want, and you know it.”
Kane throws me a sly grin. “Actually, I like that name too, so you got my vote, kitten.”
Angelo throws his hands up in the air as we reach the Escalade, where two of his men are waiting. Neither of them looks at me. The guys all know better than to provoke Angelo’s ire. He’s even more possessive now that I’m carrying our baby son.
Only last week, a server in a restaurant made the mistake of ogling my tits when I leaned over to pick up a dropped napkin. When the poor man left to fetch our drinks, Angelo followed; I never saw the server again.
When I asked Kane what happened, he just laughed.
By the time we reach Carloni’s, I’m starving, and the smell of basil and garlic is enough to make my stomach growl so loud the whole damn city can hear it.
Angelo hustles me to our usual table while Kane talks to the guards. Then we wait for the food to arrive. Just as Anthony Carloni brings me my pizza, mostly so he can catch up on gossip, Luka arrives.
He kisses me on the cheek and takes a seat next to me on the leather bench.
“Did you enjoy it?” His excitement is palpable.
Today’s episode was the season finale, which is why we planned our vacation for tomorrow.
He has the next two months off before filming begins again.
The schedule is not ideal, as it means he’ll be busy filming the next season of All Saints General when the baby arrives, but I can’t expect him to quit the job he loves.
Not when it makes him so happy.
“I did! Oh my god, it was amazing!” I grin at him before scooping a slice of vegetable pizza and shoving as much of it into my mouth as humanly possible.
Angelo rolls his eyes at my uncouth display but refrains from commenting. He’s learned by now not to get between me and pizza. Not unless he wants to cause World War Three.
“You and Maria were fire, baby.”
Luka laughs. “Yeah, she’s hot.” He leans in to kiss my neck before whispering, “But not as hot as you.”
I snort and nearly choke on my pizza. “Yeah, right. I’m super hot if you like fat whales.”
“Hottest whale I ever saw,” he confirms. “I think I have a whale kink now. Is that bad?”
My laugh turns into a painful wheeze before Angelo shoves a glass of water in my face and scowls at Luka. “Don’t make her laugh. She gets upset when she pees!”