Epilogue
IVAN
Our baby boy is fussing—again. I roll onto my side and place my hand on his tiny stomach.
“Hey, little guy,” I whisper as I lean close. “It’s hardly been two hours.”
He stretches his limbs, turns toward me, blue eyes slowing blinking, and opens his mouth. I press the softest of kisses to his head and breathe in his sweet scent.
Gabi hums from the other side of our five-day old son, where she’s still asleep but already tuning in to our baby’s needs.
Alexei Ivanovich Petrov isn’t screaming yet, but he is awake and wanting something.
I’ll do whatever I can to give Gabi even two more minutes of sleep, so I gather him in my hands and hold him close to my chest as I stand.
He still easily folds back into the bundle he was before birth, legs pulling up to his chest and hands fisting then startling open.
I hug him to my heart, biting back on the emotion flooding me every time I hold my son.
Even now, as I slide a fingertip over his knuckles, his soft nails scratching gently against my chest, the wonder of this moment is almost too much.
I coo and whisper to him, trying to keep him calm, even though he is already rooting for a nipple.
I pad over to the window where the fall dawn is shading the horizon in a soft yellow glow.
To think we’ve come so far that we don’t bother to close the shutters at night anymore.
If we forget to lock the gate at night, I don’t wake up in a cold sweat.
The grounds are still patrolled, but things have toned down.
My connection with Il Consiglio has paid off, considerably, to the point that I might think life is perfect.
Holding a perfect, strong, beautiful baby in your arms, all ten toes and ten fingers intact, every health test passed with the highest score, is the purest blessing.
Add to that a simply gorgeous wife who is sliding into motherhood as if she’s been waiting for it all her life, and I’m counting myself the luckiest man alive.
Behind me, Gabriella stirs, and as if Alexei can sense his mommy is on to him, he starts complaining a bit more. I rock him gently, but he already knows where the good stuff comes from.
Soft, warm hands slide up my back, and I smile. She loves sneaking up on me. I close my eyes, holding my son even closer, as she presses kisses up my spine.
“I love watching you with him,” she murmurs against my back as she circles her hands around my waist.
For a moment, we just stand like this, as light spills ever brighter into the room, almost as if God is blessing this day, this moment—us. It’s one I will remember forever.
“Here,” I whisper as I turn to her with a chuckle that’s desperately trying to hide the emotion stuck in my throat. “Little guy is on the hunt.”
She smiles at me. “Would hate to disappoint him so early in the day.” She gathers him to her, and the look on her face as she stares down at him makes me bite the inside of my cheek.
Fuck, it must be the exhaustion. Not sure why I’m complaining…
I didn’t do anything and here is Gabi, taking it in her stride.
Fuck, she’s so beautiful. She’s also mine, and every day with her is more than I ever deserved.
She goes on her toes to press a kiss to my lips, and for a brief second, we keep each other trapped with nothing else but this promise of love that we seal first thing every morning. I want to hold her close, deepen the kiss…always wanting more, but for now, I’m playing second fiddle.
As she turns to walk back to the bed, light flows over the skin exposed by her low-cut silk nightgown, seeming to make the dragon tattoo on her back shimmer.
The design—her own—was an easy choice to make when it came to disguising the scars from the operation to remove the two bullets.
For her, it’s turned her sacrifice into a symbol of power.
For me, it serves as a reminder. Every time I see her tattoo, I recall I almost lost her that day.
If she’d died, I would never have had this. My family, now with three kids and more to come if we both have our way, and an alliance that makes everybody stop in their tracks. I watch as she pulls the nursing pillow closer and lets the nightgown’s thin strap slip from her arm to expose her breast.
If I thought she was a stunner before, seeing her like this…it’s as if she’s cast a spell on me. With a little shake of my head to get me out of my trance, I go to the walk-in closet and find a T-shirt.
“I’m going to make you some tea,” I say as I pad back into the bedroom, pulling on the T-shirt. “Anything else you’d like?”
Gabi glances up briefly, as Alexei struggles to latch, both mom and baby still figuring this out. She is determined to breastfeed and has the patience of a saint. “I think you’ll find Portia’s already in the kitchen.”
“I bet you’re right,” I say with a chuckle. “I’ll be back.”
Portia was a no-brainer. When she came to see Gabi in the clinic during her recovery, the two women immediately clicked.
Even before Gabi fell pregnant, we had some of Il Consiglio’s staff come live on the estate to help with the housekeeping, under Portia’s firm, guiding hand.
She came to check in but never stayed longer than a week, always heading back to Boston. What a commute.
Once Alexei was on the way, Gabi wanted Portia as the nanny—the one woman who knew Bianca Scalera and helped her raise her six sons as the housekeeper at the time, until Bianca died. Then she basically took over and raised the Scalera brothers.
I get it. Gabi needs this connection to the mom she never knew. Portia was thrilled to be asked and literally packed her bags the same day, giving her husband no choice but to tag along.
Turns out it was a win-win for all. We now practically have a farm on the estate, as Arturo Romano, Portia’s husband, has taken over the conservatory, made me build a proper greenhouse for his vegetables, and is in charge of the zoo we have going on the side. The girls love him to bits.
Irisha and Katya adore Portia, too, and as I walk into the kitchen, she’s already there, pottering around and preparing a tray for Gabi. My wife isn’t used to being waited on hand and foot like this, but in my opinion, it’s what she deserves and I’m shamelessly encouraging it.
“Portia, morning,” I say in greeting. “That looks good.”
“Pakhan,” she says, staring me straight in the eye.
Have no fear, I know the pecking order here. Portia will literally skin me alive if I wrong Gabi in the slightest, and rumors have done the rounds that she’s pretty handy with a gun. What can I say? She’s keeping me on my toes.
“Alexei is up already?” she asks as she pops in a coffee pod and places an espresso cup underneath the spout.
“Yup.”
“And the girls?”
I glance at the kitchen clock. “Not yet. Probably soon.” It’s not even seven yet. Those two bounce out of bed every morning and rush in to see their baby brother. I eye the tray with toast, butter, some home-made jam, boiled eggs, and yoghurt pots.
“You take this up to Gabi and I’ll see to the girls,” she says as she pours boiling water into a mug with a tea strainer filled with dried herbs.
She calls it a tisana and apparently, it’s the perfect tonic for nursing moms. “This is for you, of course, not for Gabi,” she says as she adds the espresso to the tray.
“Of course,” I say as I take the tray. “Thank you.”
She nods as she reaches for a tea towel and tosses it over her shoulder, watching me pick up the tray.
“Thank you, Pakhan.”
I don’t try to hide my sly smile as I carry off the tray.
I must have gotten fucking soft to let an Italian nonna sit on my head like this, but Portia is fantastic with the girls and her thank you is for so much more than me just taking the tray.
Portia is loving this second chance at life.
She was too young to retire in any case.
Thank God, I’m bored shitless, were her exact words when we offered her the full-time position.
I make my way up the stairs and down the corridor to our suite. As I get closer, I hear voices. Irisha’s and Katya’s, and then Gabi’s as she laughs. As I walk into the suite, my heart swells.
All my girls and my little boy are together in the bed, Irisha and Katya on either side of Gabi, staring with loving eyes at their baby brother.
Gabi is trying to burp him, and I bet it would be easier done standing than how she’s sitting, bracketed by girls who want to touch, hold, love their baby brother.
There’s no escape and I just want to laugh.
Here is my moya ptichka, in a cage of a whole different kind.
Irisha notices me first. “Papa, Mommy says Alexei woke up six times last night! I didn’t hear him once!”
“Aren’t you the lucky one to sleep through all that fussing,” Gabi says as she looks up at me and winks with a tired eye.
“I didn’t know someone was counting.” I put the tray down on the end of the bed, thinking I slept through half of them…so much for being a hands-on dad.
Alexei chooses this moment to rip a wind that is totally out of place with his tiny body, and both girls burst into giggles.
“Well done, Mommy,” Katya says with a silly grin. “Knew you could do it.”
Gabi smiles at her. “At least I’ve achieved one thing today.”
Oh, my love, you have no idea how much you’ve achieved. Teaching me how to trust again, showing me how to love, what it means to be loved, being more than the perfect mother to my girls, to the point that they started calling her Mommy of their own accord. And now, the perfect son.
To say Gabriella just walked in one day and completed my world wouldn’t be far-fetched at all. In fact, it would be the perfect truth…and if I had to relive everything again just to get to this place with her, I wouldn’t even think twice.
Thank you for reading Ivan and Gabi’s story!