Epilogue
CASSIE
Five years later
“It’s ridiculous,” says Anwyn. “The heroine is too stupid to live.” She waves her paperback copy of the romance book we’ve all been reading for the London Mafia Smut Club.
“You’re being way too harsh.” Jenna Voronov shakes her head. “People don’t make perfect decisions in the heat of the moment. They don’t think of other things that might be obvious in hindsight.”
“Yes!” Lina says, pulling out her eReader. “See, I agree with Jenna. Listen to this bit.” And proceeds to read aloud about the part where the heroine of the fantasy romance is riding a dragon to get to her enemy or friend or lover, depending on where abouts in the book you are and how you look at it. “Not stupid. At all. She’s in love.”
“At that point?” Anwyn scoffs. “Too early, see she says?—”
“Unreliable narrator.” Lina shrugs happily. “She loves him, just doesn’t know it.
I don’t get involved with these arguments. Ella Blackwood and I tend to hang out on the same sofa and watch with amusement as the more opinionated members get involved. The funniest times are when some of the husbands read along, and join in the debate. Lambeth and Mayfair once nearly came to blows about a disagreement over the realism of a cowboy romance.
One of the advantages of being the wife of a mafia boss is the club. You’d think that the London Mafia was all rivalry and drive-by shootings, and sure, there is still some argument with the Greek mafias that I haven’t fully understood.
But when I stepped into the bar on the night Vito and I got together, I longed for family and friends. I remember looking at the group of women and being jealous I didn’t have that. Now, I have Vito, our two daughters, Gabriella and Isabella, and as much female companionship as I like with the other London Mafia Syndicate wives.
“I know we’re supposed to be talking about the book,” whispers Ella next to me, “but do you want to go to the waterpark next Saturday? I was thinking of taking the kids.”
“Sure,” I reply. You’d think that hanging out with the wife of a man who looks almost identical to your husband would be awkward, but Ella and Sev’s wife have become some of my best friends. And the three Blackwood triplets are easy to distinguish if one of them is your lover. I’d know Vito anywhere.
“Am I invited?” a sinfully delicious voice rumbles behind us, then bristles rasp on my cheek. “I love wet fun,” Vito murmurs into my ear, low enough that only I hear.
I flush and look up at my husband. He gives my hair a playful tug and leans down to kiss me. It’s a soft and lingering kiss, not filthy and open-mouthed, but a clear enough sign of possession. His lips on mine make a thought rise in me again that I’ve been having more and more, recently.
I think I’d like to be pregnant again. I’d like my husband to breed me. I want that solid, rounded belly that Vito can’t keep his hands off.
Well. Even more than usual. My husband is happiest when we’re touching.
He draws back and drags his gaze over my face and shoulders in a carnal sweep so hot I’m instantly chargrilled.
“Ready to go back to our brood?” he asks, smiling.
I swear I thought I was marrying a black cloud. But nope. My husband is pure sunshine about… Okay, only about fifty per cent of the time. And he’s the best with the kids. He has infinite patience for everything they want to do, and every mistake.
“Yes. Let’s go.” We are total home-bodies, even if we have homes all over the world. London, Milan, a villa in Naples and another in the south of Italy, but also New York, Bali, and South Africa.
Tonight though, we slide into the car that will take us back to the house in London where it all started, and our babies are sleeping under the supervision of their Italian nanny.
Vito pulls me onto his lap in the car.
“You’re my lovely girl.” He strokes my hair, and I tip my head into his touch.
“My husband.” I’m not sure how to broach the topic of another child.
“My wife.”
He examines me, and while I can’t see the colour of his eyes in the dark back of the car, I can tell he’s looking at me. It sends a warm shiver down my spine, even now after so many years. He’s still incredibly handsome, and I am still not over the shock that he’s mine.
And I want to have more of his babies. Two is not enough.
“What is it, amore mio dolce?” he asks softly. “You look concerned.”
“Can we have another baby?”
“That’s what you worried about asking?” He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Si. Always yes, for you.”
“Really? You said you needed more sleep?”
“I love losing sleep to our babies.” He strokes the back of my neck. “Even if I grumble. Nothing will ever be as good as filling you up with seed and showing you how I love you, over and over.” Pulling me closer, he slides his hand down until it finds the hem of my silk dress. “Let’s start tonight.”
I melt and breathe in his familiar citrus and sandalwood scent like I’m an addict. I am. I can never get enough of Vito.
“And in the office, tomorrow,” he adds. “Over my desk.”
Hey, thanks for reading! Fancy a bit more of Vito and Cassie making babies?