Epilogue Gabriella
Christmas Day - La Corona Party at Don Antonio Monti's Home
I glance at the sparkling engagement ring as Marco helps me out of the car at my father’s home.
My heart feels just as dazzling, full of light and promise.
"Ready?" Marco asks as he takes my hand.
"I’m always ready for Christmas. What about you?” I lean into his warmth.
It’s been fascinating to watch Marco this Christmas. It’s like he’s seeing the holidays for the first time.
“I’m ready.”
But I see a little discomfort in his expression.
I don’t think it’s from Christmas. It could be that he’s still recovering from his gunshot wound.
Or maybe seeing everyone for the first time since his confrontation with Frank.
Or maybe even that he’s given up his bachelor ways, a surprise to everyone.
We walk into my childhood home, and I’m filled with happy memories of my life growing up here.
The same life of love and joy I want to give to Marco and our child.
The great room buzzes with conversation and laughter.
Dom Vitale stands near the fireplace, glass in hand, watching his cousin Elena chase after her triplets.
The three five-year-olds dart between guests.
"Rocco, slow down!" Elena calls as one of the boys nearly topples a tray of champagne flutes.
Her exasperation doesn't mask the adoration in her voice.
I feel a twinge of sadness for her. She didn’t get her happily ever after, whereas I have.
I spot Roman and Isabella across the room, little Angelica twirling in her Christmas dress beside them.
Isabella cradles baby Leo in her arms with her father, Don Ferraza, watching, looking every bit the proud grandpa.
“Do you see and feel everyone’s happiness?” I whisper to Marco.
“That was never in question.” He looks at me. “It was my happiness I didn’t feel, but I feel it now.”
I squeeze his hand, still wondering if this is all a fantastic dream.
"Gabriella!" My father's voice booms across the room as he spots us. We make our way through the room filled with La Corona families.
I hug him. “Merry Christmas.”
“You too, Tesoro.” He glances at my ring. "Both of you."
Marco steps forward to shake my father's hand, and I notice the subtle shift in their dynamic. There's a new respect between them, not just as Don to Don, but as father to future son-in-law.
"Merry Christmas, Antonio," Marco says, his voice warm.
My father claps him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, officially."
“Here’s to Marco, alive and well, although why aren’t you hiding in the corner?” Dom says, holding up his champagne to toast. “I’ve never known you to be social.”
“You’re more interesting this year,” Marco quips, earning laughter from the crowd.
A commotion at the entrance draws our attention, and my heart leaps when I see who's arrived.
"Luca!" It’s been a year since I’ve seen him.
“Sorella mia,” he says with a big grin. He stands in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, looking every bit the heir to the Monti family.
While Christmas isn’t the time or place to talk to him about our father, I’m determined to have a discussion with him before he leaves again.
This time, our father is on board, and Marco says he’ll do whatever is needed to help.
I rush across the room and throw my arms around him. "You’re here!"
"Of course." He laughs, returning my embrace. "It's Christmas."
The joy bubbling inside me feels limitless.
"You look different," Luca says, holding me at arm's length. His eyes catch the sparkle on my finger, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Very different."
I laugh, pulling him toward Marco. "We have so much to tell you."
"So," Luca says, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server and looking around at our gathered family, "what have I missed around here since last Christmas?"
The question triggers a collective groan followed by bursts of laughter from our guests.
"Where do we even start?" Roman says.
"FBI meetings," I offer dryly.
"Ambushes," Marco adds.
"Traitors in our midst," my father contributes.
"Shotgun weddings," Marco says with a smirk, sliding his arm around my waist.
"And babies," I finish, placing my hand over my still-flat stomach.
Luca's eyes widen comically. "All since last Christmas? I leave for one year and the entire world turns upside down?"
"Welcome home, Brother. You've got a lot of catching up to do."
“I guess I do.” Luca’s gaze narrows on Elena, who turns away, presumably to check on her children.
“Wait.” Dominic’s deep voice cuts through the crowd. “Did Marco say shotgun wedding?”
All eyes turn to us.
My father, looking clearer than I’ve seen in him in a while, holds up his champagne glass. “I’m happy to announce the engagement of my daughter, Gabriella, to Don Marco Calabresi, and the impending birth of their first child.”
“First? How many will they have?” Luca says with a wink to me.
“Four. Maybe five,” I say. Marco looks a little pale at that but smiles.
Congratulations fill the air, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
Well, that’s not true.
I was happier when I learned Marco would live and then all the times he tells me he loves me.
And of course, this morning when he proposed.
As everyone breaks into smaller groups to catch up, I notice Elena by the Christmas tree, her attention fixed on her triplets while remaining oddly separate from the celebration.
Though surrounded by family, she seems isolated, contained in her own bubble with her children.
The way Elena watches Luca from across the room strikes me as peculiar.
She almost looks resentful.
While everyone else welcomes my brother with open arms, she maintains her distance, keeping the triplets close as if they might disappear.
I think back to some of the things she’s said about Luca, and clearly, she doesn’t think much of my brother, but why?
He hasn’t been in the United States for six years, except at Christmas and occasional business meetings.
"You okay?" Marco asks, noticing my distraction.
I link my arm through his. "Have you noticed Elena tonight?"
"What about her?"
"She seems… off. Almost like she's hiding from everyone rather than enjoying it." I watch as Adalina tugs at Elena's dress, asking for something.
Marco follows my gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. "She’s got her hands full."
“Did La Corona have any say in her situation? Being a single mom.”
He arches a brow. “Are you asking if we offed the father of her children?”
“No.” Although, now that he mentions it… “I just wonder how much you know of her situation?”
“That’s Dom’s family. When her father went to jail, Dom looked after her. He wasn’t the Don yet, but he took responsibility for her. Out of respect, no one asks about the children’s father, although it appears there is none.”
“Every child has a father.”
“Mine almost didn’t.” His words fill me with guilt. He gives me a smile. “Thank goodness I saw the light.”
“Thank goodness.” I glance at Elana again, feeling so fortunate for myself while my heart breaks for her.
But tonight is about love and savoring our blessings.
"Let's go to the library," I suggest. "I could use a moment away from the crowd."
His eyes darken with recognition. "The library? Are you sure that's wise?"
"My ideas are always wise." I tug his hand, leading him through the hallway. My father’s library is on the second floor, but we have an elevator to save Marco the exertion.
The library doors close behind us.
“You lured me to a library last year.” He takes in the room, the vast collection of books.
“I did. I was surprised you followed me there, but when you did, I knew…”
“Knew what?” He turns to me.
“You’re fascinated by me. Like a moth to a flame.”
“Yes. All fire and intellect. I couldn't look away. It terrified me.” His fingers brush over my cheek.
"The great Marco Calabresi, terrified?" I laugh softly.
"Of what you made me feel." He takes my hand, looking at the engagement ring he gave me this morning. “I couldn’t deal. When you left the first time, I wanted to be relieved, but you were everywhere. In my thoughts, in every room of my home. I felt like I was going mad wanting you and being afraid of how much I wanted you.”
The raw honesty in his voice touches my soul. This is the Marco few ever see. The man behind the Don's mask.
"I'm sorry for—" he begins, but I press my finger to his lips.
"No more apologies. We've both caused each other pain. But that's behind us now."
I guide his hand to my stomach, still flat but holding our future. "This is what matters. Not what happened last Christmas, not Frank's betrayal, not even La Corona's politics. Just us."
Marco pulls me against him, his forehead touching mine. "When did you get so wise?"
"I told you, I've always been wise," I tease. "You just weren't listening."
His laugh rumbles through his chest.
I lean into Marco, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us.
Our lips meet and electricity courses through me, the same chemistry that drew us together last Christmas, now deepened by everything we've shared.
His hands slide down my back, pulling me closer. "I’m dying to touch you again, Gabriella.”
My fingers trace the buttons of his shirt wanting more than anything to feel his hands on me. "You’re still recovering."
“The only way my blue balls will recover is if I can touch you.”
I shake my head. “Marco.”
He captures my hand, pressing it against his chest. "I'm well enough for this."
"Are you sure?" I search his face for any sign of discomfort. "The doctor said—"
"The doctor isn't here." Marco's voice drops to that commanding tone that makes my girlie parts hum. "And I need my fiancée."
The word 'fiancée' on his lips sends a thrill through me. I surrender to his kiss, to the hands that know exactly how to touch me.
When he pushes me against the bookcase, he winces, so I lead him to the leather couch.
“I think I should be the Don tonight,” I say as I push him back and lift the skirt of my dress.
“You going to heal me?” His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties and pull them down my legs.
“I’m going to rock your world.”
He groans as he undoes his belt and slacks, freeing his dick. “Take care of me, baby.”
I straddle him, guiding him to my pussy.
I lower, taking him in inch by inch, coming together in a desperate hunger.
I ride him, watching for signs of pain. But all I see is that torturous pleasure as his breathing grows erratic.
“Yes, fuck me… Gabriella… Oh, fuck…” He bucks up, and warmth fills my body. It sends me over, flying in pleasure with him.
We hold each other as our breaths come back to normal.
“I hate to say it, but you forgot a condom again.”
He snorts. “Too late to worry about that.” He looks up at me. “I don’t plan to use a condom ever again.” He squeezes my ass. “We may end up with twenty kids.”
This time, I’m the one who pales.
He laughs, and it’s a sound even more beautiful than Christmas bells or music.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have them one at a time.” He kisses his fingers and then presses them to my belly. “Daddy loves you.”
Tears spring to my eyes at his words, at the gesture. Silly hormones.
“Hey?” Worry laces his tone. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so happy. So happy you love me, love the baby.”
His hands cup my cheeks. “I do love you, Gabriella. Always. As long as I live. Every breath is for you and our child. I vow it.”
I settle against him, careful not to bother his wound. “I love you forever too. You’ll never question that. I promise.”
His arms hold me tight, and I know with the same certainty that the sun will rise tomorrow that Marco and I will love each other until the end.
That whatever we face, we’ll overcome.
Together. Forever.