Epilogue Liana #2
"They don't give returns on those kinds of items, Santino. For obvious reasons."
His expression is priceless—somewhere between horror and trying to be open-minded. "Liana—"
"What? You said you wanted to try new things." I climb out of the pool, water streaming off me. "Or did I say that? I think it was me, not you. Anyway, let me go get the suitcase. This is a good time to start using them."
"Wait—" But I'm already walking toward the villa.
I grab an empty designer suitcase from the closet and drag it dramatically through the villa, making sure it sounds heavy. When I get back to the pool, Santino is standing there looking like a man preparing for battle.
"Liana, listen. We should talk about this—"
"Talk about what?" I set the suitcase down with a thud.
"If you want to... experiment... we can discuss it like adults. Set boundaries. Safe words. But the strap-on thing—" He runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I'm trying to be supportive here but goddamn—"
I can't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. "Santino. It's empty."
"What?"
I flip open the suitcase. Completely empty. "I was messing with you! There was never a suitcase of sex toys! Your big dick is enough for me, baby."
His face quickly goes from panic to relief. "You're evil."
"You should have seen your face!" I'm doubled over laughing. "You looked like I was about to do something outrageous to you!"
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I thought I was being a supportive husband."
"You thought I was going to use a glittery pink strap-on! On you!"
"Not funny, Liana."
"Extremely funny." I'm still giggling.
His phone starts ringing from inside the villa. We both ignore it. It stops. Then starts again immediately.
"That's probably important," I say without much conviction.
"Don't care." His hands tighten on my hips.
The phone stops. Starts again for a third time.
"That's definitely Bruno," Santino says with a sigh. "He knows I'm on my honeymoon. He wouldn't call unless—"
"Unless it's actually important," I finish. "You should probably answer it."
"I should probably throw it off the cliff."
But he's already lifting me out of the pool, water streaming off both of us as we pad naked into the villa. His phone is buzzing angrily on the bedroom nightstand.
Santino reaches for it.
I get there first. "Hello?" I answer, still dripping wet and completely naked.
There's a shocked silence on the other end.
"Uh," Bruno's voice finally comes through. "Is this—Liana?"
"Hi Bruno." I can't keep the amusement out of my voice. "What other woman would be answering Santino’s phone? How are things?"
Santino is staring at me with a mixture of horror and arousal, like he can't decide whether to be scandalized or turned on by me answering his phone naked.
"I'm—good, I guess?" Bruno sounds completely thrown. "Is Santino available?"
"He's right here. Hang on." I hold the phone out to Santino, still grinning. "It's for you."
He takes the phone with a look that promises retribution later. "This better be important, Bruno."
I can hear Bruno's muffled voice: "Did your wife just answer your phone? While you're on your honeymoon?"
"Yes," Santino says flatly, watching me walk across the bedroom toward the bathroom. "What do you need?"
More muffled talking. Santino's expression shifts from annoyed to focused.
"Handle it," he says finally. "You don't need my permission for that. Use your judgment. No, I'm not coming back early. Bruno, it's my honeymoon. Unless someone's actively dying, I don't want to hear about it for another eleven days. Good. Text me if anything changes."
He hangs up and tosses the phone onto the bed.
Then he follows me into the bathroom where I'm rinsing off the pool water but am actually waiting for him.
"You answered my phone naked," he says, stalking toward me with predatory intent.
"I did," I agree innocently. "Is that a problem?"
"You scandalized my underboss."
"He'll recover."
"He probably thinks we're insane."
"We are." I step into the massive glass shower, turning on the water. "Are you going to stand there talking about boring Bruno or are you going to join me?"
He's in the shower in seconds, crowding me back against the tile wall, his mouth on mine before I can take another breath.
The water cascades over us, hot and perfect, while his hands explore every inch of my body like he's trying to memorize me by touch.
"I love you," he says between kisses. "My insane, impossible, perfect wife."
"I love you too," I gasp as his mouth moves down my neck. "My uptight, possessive, secretly romantic husband."
"Not so uptight anymore," he points out. "You've thoroughly corrupted it out of me."
"Good," I manage. "That was always the plan."
We stay in the shower until the water runs cold, then collapse onto the bed in a tangle of damp sheets and satisfied exhaustion. We're quiet for a moment, just breathing together, existing in this perfect bubble where nothing matters except us.
"Liana?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you," he says softly. "For jumping out of my car. For driving me insane. For refusing to be anything other than yourself. For choosing me even when you didn't have to."
I lift my head to look at him. "Thank you for seeing me. For loving the real me instead of the character I was playing."
He pulls me up for a kiss that's softer than the heated ones before, full of tenderness and promise and everything we've built together. When we break apart, I settle back against his chest with a contented sigh.
"So," I say after a moment. "About that room service that's definitely cold by now..."
"I'll order more," he says, not moving. "In a minute."
We stay there, wrapped in each other, watching the late afternoon sun paint patterns on the bedroom wall through the sheer curtains.
Tomorrow we'll maybe see some sights. Maybe taste some wine.
But probably not.
Instead, we'll stay here in our private paradise, making the most of these two weeks before we have to go back to reality and responsibilities and running two crime families without killing each other.
And honestly?
I wouldn't have it any other way.