Chapter 41
Lucia
One year later …
My forearms are resting on the baluster of the wrap-around veranda when two strong arms slink around my waist, dragging my body back into his.
“There you are,” my sexy husband whispers, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.
I turn my head and brush my lips against his cheek. “I’m out here supervising these idioti (Idiots) making sure they don’t fuck anything else up.”
He chuckles softly against my skin as his eyes flicker up to watch the workers setting up the marquee for our son’s Christening reception later today.
Gabriel Romeo De Luca, our little boy, was born two months ago, and he’s already become my greatest accomplishment in life.
Okay, maybe his birth ties with one other extraordinary achievement: Operation Takedown. The highly classified and expertly executed mission that led to the seduction of my now-husband.
Growing up, I may not have wanted kids, but that was before I married the man of my dreams. It didn’t take me long to realise I wanted a family with Romeo. I wanted it all.
“They backed over one rose bush, babe,” he says, grinning. “I’m pretty sure it was an accident.”
“Ugh,” I groan, bringing my coffee mug to my lips to hide my disdain. “I swear if they turn my beautiful lawn into a mud pit, I’m going to borrow your gun and kneecap the lot of them.”
Romeo arches an eyebrow. “Your lawn? Considering I’m the one who mows it, I’m pretty sure that constitutes it as mine.”
I blow out a puff of air and roll my eyes. “Fine. Our lawn.”
He barks out a laugh as he takes the coffee out of my hand, bringing the mug to his mouth and taking a sip of the hot liquid.
We’re married in every sense of the word, we even share a child together, but that small natural movement still gives me a thrill, just like it did when he took a swig from the beer bottle I’d drunk from the first time I went to his house.
“You are extra grouchy today. I know you didn’t sleep well last night. Why don’t you go and have a lie down? It’s still early, we don’t have to be at the church for hours.”
“Will you come lie down with me?” I ask, turning in his arms.
“Not happening, babe.”
My eyebrows pinch into a frown. “Why not?”
“I know you too well … you have no plans of sleeping.”
My hands fist in the fabric of his T-shirt. “But I need you,” I plead, giving him that pouty look I know he can’t resist.
“You had me inside you an hour ago.”
“That was an hour ago … I need you again.”
“What if Gabe wakes up?”
“I’ll turn the monitor on. Besides, Nonna and Nonno (Grandma and Grandpa) will be here soon enough. You know they’ll take care of him while we—” I raise both my hands, using my fingers to do air quotes. “—rest.”
“So, you’re claiming my grandparents as yours now too … like the lawn.”
Romeo’s grandparents are different from the people we first met. They’ve gone from two broken souls, weighed down by years of grief and regret, to something lighter.
Having their grandson around has breathed life back into them. It feels like the pieces they lost when they buried their son are slowly shifting back into place. They shower him, our son, and me with so much love.
“We’re married. What’s yours is mine, remember?”
“And what’s yours is yours?”
“Never. I’d give you all my gazillions if you’d let me, but you won’t take them.”
“I don’t need your money, Lucia.”
As the underboss of the Famiglia, I know my husband makes a substantial amount of money, but probably not as much as I do, considering I receive half the profits from the Rossi Cosa Nostra in Italy.
That knowledge did nothing to stop him from secretly buying this large parcel of land near Dante and Arabella’s and building me my dream house from the ground up.
This beautiful man loves taking care of me, and I’m not about to argue with him on that. I can see how much it means to him. He’s always been a nurturer at heart. I saw the things he did for his mother when she was alive, but unlike her, I’d never take advantage of his kindness the way she did.
Four months ago, when he started disappearing for long bouts at a time, I became suspicious.
I was heavily pregnant, the size of a small whale, and my hormones were running rampant, so when I threatened to cut any bitch who dared to look sideways at him, he eventually had to confess where he was going and what he’d been doing.
I felt like a complete stronzo for ruining his surprise, but I love this place. He told me he got the inspiration from a dream he had in the hospital after he was stabbed, which made the sentiment behind his actions even more special.
Technically, our marriage was still a sham back then, but I took it as a sign. Even if he was still pretending to fight the inevitable—fight me—deep down his subconscious already knew he was mine. He just hadn’t caught up yet.
I missed our little three-bedder in the suburbs at first, but that didn’t last long. It’s so majestic here. The house Romeo built is a grand white weatherboard home, perched on the highest part of the land with sweeping views of the surrounding hills.
This place has eight spacious bedrooms, and at its heart, my dream kitchen, but it’s more than just a house.
It was built with care and intention. He may have laid the foundation with his own hands, but it was his love, fierce and constant, that filled every room with warmth and made it our home.
Every tiny detail shows he had me in mind the entire time.
An expansive wraparound veranda frames the exterior, with crisp white railings and tall, black-shuttered windows that let in just enough sunlight to keep the interior feeling light and airy.
The charcoal roof adds a bold contrast, giving the house a classic, timeless charm that stands out against the soft, rolling countryside.
In the mornings, mist clings to the valleys, and the sunsets are like something out of a dream. It’s the kind of view that quiets the noise in your head. The kind that makes you breathe a little deeper.
Ki-Ki loves all the extra space he has to run around in, and Romeo is already talking about buying Gabe a dirt bike once he’s old enough to ride.
When the time comes, I’m going to push for a pony instead.
Romeo has never ridden the motorbike he inherited from his father, which I’m secretly thankful for, but I’ve caught him sitting on it more than once, his fingers resting on the handlebars, quiet and thoughtful, like he’s holding on to a memory instead of a piece of metal.
“Would you settle for a quickie then?” I ask, hopefully.
When a smirk curves his lips, I know I’ve won. He turns me back around to face the yard, flips up the hem of my nightgown and pushes my underwear to the side, as his fingers move between my legs.
“We’re going to do it out here?” I ask. “The workmen—”
“Are a good fifty metres away,” he replies, cutting me off. “As long as you keep those moans of yours to a minimum, they won’t even know.”
Moisture floods me at the thought. Romeo once admitted that public displays of affection weren’t his thing, but he doesn’t seem to mind doing it with me.
He’s gotten me off in public more times than I can count, and those moments are up there with some of my favourites.
The thrill of getting caught only seems to amplify the intensity of my orgasms.
When his fingers disappear from between my thighs, my hands grasp the railing in anticipation of what’s to come.
He frees his erection from his sweatpants, running the crown of his dick through my arousal. “So fucking wet for me, baby,” he breathes.
I lean my head back on his shoulder when he slips the tip inside.
“I’m going to fuck this sweet pussy right here, with all those men only metres away,” he whispers in my ear. “And not only are you going to take every hard inch, you’re going to love it.”
My hand moves up to grip the back of his head. “I love …” The ‘you’ gets caught in my throat and is replaced with a breathy, “Ahhhhh,” as soon as he slides all the way home. Filling me … stretching me.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, Mrs De Luca.”
He draws out to the very tip, and when he slowly slides back in, my entire body ignites with a fire only he can bring.
I shove my hips backwards, grinding into him, greedy for more. He grips my sides, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, as he holds me in place and begins to thrust into me in short, sporadic spurts.
When a loud moan falls from my lips, one of his hands moves up to cover my mouth. “Those sweet noises are for my ears only, principessa,” he whispers darkly. “Every delicious inch of you belongs to me.”
I nod my head, but that’s not enough for him. “Say it,” he demands.
“I’m yours … only yours.”
“Mine,” he repeats, low and certain, like a claim no one would dare challenge. But there’s no need, this man owns my body, heart and soul.
After putting the finishing touches on my makeup and sliding into my heels, I take one last look in the mirror, smooth my hands over my ivory dress and head out to the main room in search of the others.
It’s a little snug around the middle, since I’m still carrying a bit of baby weight, but it looks okay. I’m wearing the dress I got married in, the one Romeo bought me. He has no idea, and I’m wondering if he’ll even notice.
A part of me hopes he will; the other part knows he will.
That man doesn’t miss a thing when it comes to me.
When I enter the main room at the rear of the house, I find his grandmother, with baby Gabe cradled in her arms, sitting by the window, chatting quietly with her husband and grandson.
Romeo is midsentence, saying something to his Nonna, but the words die on his lips the moment he hears my heels clicking on the hardwood floorboards as I enter the large, open space.