Chapter 2
DOMINIC
Waking up beside Chiara is my favorite thing. It feels like I’ve waited a whole lifetime to call her my wife.
Chiara Cavaleri. That’s who she was always meant to be. And sure, the years between us were filled with hurt and misunderstandings, but still, we made it, no matter the walls that were so expertly keeping us apart.
She groans, tucked into my chest, where she most often likes to sleep. Chiara isn’t the type of woman to need anyone, and the fact that she needs me . . . damn, it makes me feel like I’m the luckiest son of a bitch that ever walked the earth.
“What time is it?” she asks, a lazy smile on her face, her eyes still half-closed.
“Early, baby.” I palm her ass, pressing her tighter against me. “Go back to sleep.”
She groans, burrowing into my bicep, and my cock throbs at the sight of her.
“You’re so warm . . .” She yawns again. “And cozy . . .” She throws a leg over my hip. “But I should probably get up.”
“No, you shouldn’t, baby. You’re three months pregnant. It’s okay to rest sometimes. In fact . . .” I slant my lips over hers, stroking them with mine. “It’s mandatory.”
With one arm tucked under her, I use my other to pull her closer.
She groans as I kiss her. “But I have so much to do.”
“Not this early, you don’t.”
Another kiss against her jaw has her throwing her head back on a long, throaty moan, and my cock swells against her at the sound.
“The club is closed. The house is clean.” My lips drift down her neck, marking her with my kisses, my teeth grazing her skin. “There’s nothing to do but stay in bed with your husband.”
“So damn tempting, because my husband is all sorts of hot.” Her hand slips into my scalp, her pointy nails scratching me, and damn, it feels like heaven.
Our life so far has been everything either of us could’ve wanted.
This slice of paradise we’ve created is everything that matters to me.
My brothers and I, we finally got to live, every one of us, with the woman we love.
The war is now a distant memory, and it’s nice not to live that way anymore.
We have each other. We’re all family. The girls are close, too.
A little too close, if you ask me, because if one of us messes up, they’re all ganging up on the wrongdoer.
Tiptoes splatter outside our door, and we groan simultaneously.
“You think if we hide under the comforter, they won’t see us?” she asks on a sweet laugh.
“Let’s try it,” I whisper, grabbing the blanket and quickly enveloping us in it, just as the door opens.
Giggles fill the room as they come closer. Suddenly, two tiny people jump onto the bed with a monstrous growl.
“Oh, no!” I scream. “They found us! Run!”
Our three-and-a-half-year-old identical twin boys yank the comforter off our faces.
“I’m hungry!” Frankie pouts, sitting on my gut.
“Me too!” Gianni jumps on the edge of the bed, his hands in the air.
“Baby, stop that!” Chiara says. “You’re gonna fall off and bust your head open.”
He continues, and she blows out a sharp exhale.
“Come give your mama a squishy hug.”
Her arms stretch out for him, and he comes running. He always does. She smiles as his chest lands on hers. Their thick black hair is just like their mother’s, and their eyes, they’re all mine.
They’re like the perfect combo of both of us. Our family couldn’t tell them apart for a while. The only obvious difference was the small birthmark on Frankie’s hip.
But as they grew up, the differences were obvious. Gianni has quite the taste for destruction, while Frankie would rather build. Gianni loves to get dirty. He’d roll around in mud all day if we let him. But Frankie would scream if he even got a smudge on his face.
After Chiara got shot, the only bright spot was that she could still have children. The doctor told her she was very lucky with where the bullet hit, because an inch over, and our chances of having kids would’ve been gone.
We didn’t plan the timing. We just let fate take the lead. When she got that positive pregnancy test, she cried. I did too. It was the rawest I’ve ever felt. Then it happened again, and man, it was like the first time.
I’ll have as many kids with her as she’ll let me.
Little her-and-mes. I kind of hope this one is a girl, though.
It’d be nice to have a little girl who’s as tough as her mother is.
We’ll be finding out the gender today at our reveal party with the family, just in time for Matteo and Aida to come home from their time on Corvo Island.
They purchased a home there and spend the summers away on the beach like they once wanted. Over the years, their past has been on my mind. And that’s only the parts they chose to share. I know there’s more they won’t talk about, and I understand why. It’s theirs, that pain.
I’ve been there, closed up, refusing to let anyone in. But that all changed when we found Matteo, and then even more after Chiara and I got married and started a family of our own.
They say I’m different now. I laugh. I guess I didn’t laugh a lot back then.
I tug Frankie against me, looking over at my beautiful wife. Her bare face is radiating with a glint in her eyes.
I love you, she mouths.
With a deep breath, I lower my lips to her forehead and kiss her because this is how I talk. This is my way of showing her what she means to me.
We stay like this for a while, holding onto the warmth, to our family, to the love always binding us together.
“Can we eat now?” Gianni pops his head up, his bright green eyes staring hard at me.
I swear, he’s me. Hardheaded. Stubborn.
“Okay,” I grumble, sitting up and flipping a laughing Frankie off my shoulder as Chiara grins. I reach for Gianni, who looks too comfortable against her, not that I blame him. “I’ve got him, baby.”
“So overprotective.” She grins, knowing I don’t want her lifting heavy shit when she’s carrying our baby.
“You know you love it when I get protective.” I throw her a playful gaze, snatching up our other son and throwing a giggling Gianni over my other shoulder.
“Oh, I do, Mr. Cavaleri.” Discreetly, her hand snakes to my ass, and she squeezes, her long nails dipping into my muscles. “I really do.”
“Keep doing that, and I’m giving these kids to Sonia and you and me . . .” I jerk my head behind us. “We’ll be back on that bed, and we won’t be out of it for hours.”
She bites her lower lip, her eyes lustful.
“Damn you, woman,” I grunt.
“You can’t go back to sleep!” Frankie chimes in as we start for the door.
Chiara laughs. “You two wear us out. We need it.”
“You bet your ass we do. We’re renting you two to Uncle Dante.”
“What does renting mean?” Gianni asks.
Chiara and I only laugh harder, and once we make it downstairs, Sonia’s humming from the kitchen grows nearer.
“I told you boys not to wake them.” She shakes her head once we appear. “You two told me you were getting your trucks.” A smile grips the outer edges of her mouth.
“Tricked ya.” Gianni giggles, popping his head from my shoulder.
I swat him playfully on his behind.
“It’s okay,” Chiara says, giving her a hug before filling a mug with hot coffee and making one for me.
She takes a seat around the kitchen island while I drop both boys at the kitchen table.
“Morning, Sonia. Everything smells good.”
“Of course. Now eat, everyone, while it’s hot.”
“Grab a plate for yourself,” Chiara says. “Join us. You work too hard.”
She’s usually out the door, not wanting to encroach on our family time, but she fails to understand, no matter how many times we tell her, that she is family. She’s been like a mom to us both, and like a grandma to our boys. I don’t know what we’d do without her.
“You sure?” Her brows furrow.
“Yes.” I plant a palm on her shoulder. “Please, sit. Let me serve you for once.”
“You’re a good boy.” She pats my cheek before she clears her throat and takes a spot next to Chiara.
I go to work, getting everyone food.
“How are you feeling, dear?” she asks Chiara.
“Better. I think the nausea has finally ended.”
“Oh, that’s great news. You poor thing . . . all that sickness.”
She shakes her head as I place her food before her—pancakes, bacon, and a croissant she made from scratch. She spoils us.
Chiara was sick to her stomach for weeks, unable to keep anything down, so much so that she was put on meds, which seem to be working well.
“Daddy, is Mommy having another boy?” Gianni asks. “I don’t want a sister. She won’t like cars or trucks.”
“Yes, she will!” Frankie says. “I think it’s a girl. What about you, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, kid.” I hand them their plates with chocolate chip pancakes. “But Mommy and I don’t care. We will love him or her no matter what.”
I look at her then, and she gazes at me with a tender smile. My heart is full, and it’s a feeling I’ll never get sick of.