Epilogue
1 year later:
Gently, I cradled my son in my arms, twirling slowly around the cozy room, my voice softly humming the lullaby that Nonna Rayne used to serenade me with as a child.
The melody danced in the air, evoking a warm nostalgia.
As I spun, Xavior's bright blue-green eyes sparkled with joy, and his laughter rang out like the sweetest chime, untouched by the sorrows that life could bring.
Xavior was a delightful baby by day. He rarely cried—his calm demeanour often left me anxious during those rare moments of silence, as if I had to check that he was still breathing.
Most of the time, he radiated joy, with a constant smile playing on his lips and joyful giggles that filled our home with light.
It was undeniable that he bore a striking resemblance to his father, yet there was a familiar spark of my own personality shimmering within him, including the same childhood fear of the dark that had once haunted me.
"Guaio, are you ready to go? We're going to be late for the reservations!" Vince's voice called from downstairs, pulling me from my reverie. I turned my attention toward the door, a twinge of uncertainty creeping in.
Perhaps I could concoct another excuse, just as I had done in the past. Would he really be upset with me?
How could he be? My heart ached at the thought of leaving Xavior, our little bundle of joy who had only been in our lives for ten fleeting months.
Neither of us had dared to leave him alone without the other present.
"Darling, he's going to be fine. Your mother and father are more than capable of taking care of him. Don't worry," Vince reassured me, his voice suddenly close, sending a gentle surprise through me as I hadn't heard him ascend the stairs.
"What if he needs us?" I asked, turning to fully face my husband. The hem of my red midi-dress brushed against his leg, a soft reminder of our closeness.
The dress wasn't new, but wearing it felt like a small victory, a step toward reclaiming a part of myself.
It hugged my figure in all the right places and displayed just enough cleavage to feel a hint of confidence.
I had simply thrown on the first outfit I found, brushed my hair, and applied a touch of red lipstick and mascara—a luxury in the whirlwind of motherhood.
"He won't need us, and besides, we'll only be 45 minutes away," he replied, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me in close with a care that made sure not to squish Xavior, who was now babbling joyfully between us.
Pressing my forehead against his, I searched his eyes for certainty, and he sighed softly, "Xavior will be fine, I promise. You look gorgeous, and we don't want to waste the time and effort you've put into this. It'll only be for a few hours."
I considered revealing that I hadn't spent much effort to achieve this look at all but chose to keep that to myself. Instead, I focused on the weight of his hands running down my arms, taking my free hand in his steady grasp.
Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I reluctantly tore my gaze away from our son. Vince squeezed my hand reassuringly, prompting me to gently hand Xavior over to him. The instant Xavior spotted his father, he squealed with delight, kicking his legs excitedly.
I bent down to retrieve his overnight bag, which I may have stuffed a bit too full, while Vince made his way toward the car. With a quick flick, I turned off the lights and unplugged the various devices around the room before following after him.
Inside the car, Angelo and a few guards were waiting, their presence making it unnecessary to lock the door, so I slid into the passenger seat without hesitation.
Vince effortlessly secured Xavior in the backseat before joining me in the front.
He placed a warm, reassuring hand on my thigh as he started the engine, pulling away from our home and down the long driveway.
As we drove, the gentle hum of the engine lulled me, and I soon found my eyelids growing heavy.
Before long, I surrendered to the soothing embrace of sleep, the world outside fading away as I nestled deeper into my thoughts, the rhythmic motion of the car lulling me into a deep, peaceful slumber.
— — —
My dream shatters suddenly, pulling me back into the starkness of reality.
To my surprise, I feel more rested than I have since Xavior entered our lives.
A flicker of worry sweeps over me; Xavior has always been a notoriously fussy baby at night, and the thought of sleeping through an entire night seems foreign to me.
As I blink away the remnants of my dream, I take in my surroundings, which are unsettlingly unfamiliar.
The room feels both strange and eerily quiet.
Two doors stand steadfastly closed—one must lead to the bathroom, I reason.
An entire wall of glass immerses the space in soft, morning light, but there's no handle, no way to open it and escape.
With a mix of confusion and anxiety, I throw back the covers. My eyes widen in disbelief as I take in my bare skin—why am I naked? What on earth happened here? A growing sense of alarm tinges the edges of my thoughts.
Suddenly, I hear the metallic click of a door unlocking.
Instinctively, I scramble for safety, my fingers wrapping around a decorative glass vase perched precariously on the bedside table.
I widen my stance, knees bent in a defensive posture, raising the vase high above my head like a makeshift weapon.
Drawing in a breath, I let out what I hope is a fierce war cry and swing the vase wildly, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The figure dodges my unpredictable swing and lunges, tackling me gently but firmly onto the bed.
"Really, guaio? A vase? Also if I was actually a threat, I could have killed up minutes ago especially if I had a weapon. You've only had a few months off training and you've already forgotten everything" he scolds, still straddling my hips and holding my hands hostage.
"I'm sorry I panicked, okay?" I say, my voice a mix of frustration and apology as I glance up at him with wide eyes.
The tension in the air slowly begins to dissipate, and I can feel my heart racing.
"Now, can you kindly release my hands?" I pout, my bottom lip jutting out just enough to convey my vulnerability.
He rolls his eyes, exhaling a defeated sigh, but finally loosens his grip, allowing my wrists to break free.
"You're really lucky that you're so adorable," he grunts, a hint of exasperation lacing his tone. With a playful smile, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer, and gently tug his face down to mine, closing the space between us.
"Not as adorable as you," I tease, my eyes sparkling with mischief as I lean in, relishing the warmth of his presence. knowing it will piss him off. I yelp when his hand comes down hard on my ass.
"I'm not adorable in the slightest," he says with a playful smirk, his confidence radiating. "Try words like hot, stunning, sexy, any of those would suit me just fine. I'm more of a sex god, if you will."
He rubs the spot he hit and I moan when he brings his hand down the second time.
He lets out a low groan at the sound, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he leans in closer.
His lips find mine in a kiss that ignites a fire within—a heated connection pulsing with desire.
In that moment, I tell myself that the years we spent drifting apart in our early marriage were now merely shadows in the light of this passionate reunion, and we are simply making up for lost time.
"Could your ego get any bigger?" I tease, a playful laugh escaping my lips as we reluctantly pull away, our foreheads resting against each other.
"Me? Having a big ego? Never," he replies with a hearty chuckle, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I can't help but shake my head, a smile dancing on my face.
Then, with a sudden movement, he wraps his strong arms around me, enveloping me in warmth, and we both collapse onto the soft cushions beneath us, laughter still lingering in the air like a sweet melody.
He rests his head on my tits and my hands come up to play with his hair.
"Of course you don't," I respond, rolling my eyes in playful exasperation. My voice softens as I add, "I'm really sorry that we missed our meal. I know you were looking forward to it."
He shifts his weight, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I was looking forward to spending some quality time with you, honestly.
We both needed to catch up on sleep anyway.
I prefer this," he gestures around us, the warmth of our cozy living room contrasting with the bustling restaurant we had planned to visit, "the restaurant isn't going anywhere. We can always slip away another time."
"You're absolutely right about needing rest," I say with a sigh, rubbing my eyes.
"I never realized just how exhausted I was.
Honestly, I don't think I can handle having another child anytime soon.
" I declare this with a resolute tone, but Vince merely raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"We'll see about that," he hums, his voice low and teasing, almost lost in the intimate atmosphere we've created.
I shake my head, my expression serious. "I love you, but I am definitely not having another child... not for a long, long time."
"I love you too," he replies comfortably, choosing to sidestep my last comment. In response, I flick his forehead playfully, and he retaliates with a lazy flick to my arm, both of us grinning like kids caught up in a game.
It's remarkable how far we've come. The once-feared leader of the mafia, known for his cold demeanor and razor-sharp intelligence, now feels like a warm, cuddly teddy bear only in my presence and that of our son. It's a profound transformation that still astounds me.
We've both changed in so many ways—some for the better, some for the worse. The journey we've taken together has been an emotional rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, unexpected turns and deep connections. Yet, I wouldn't trade a single moment of it for anything in the world.