Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Natasha
My stomach clenched like someone had grabbed it in a vise, pain radiating from my waist down through my entire lower body. I curled up on the couch, hands death-gripping the armrests, nails digging into the leather. Then I felt something warm gush between my legs.
Oh God.
"Dante—" I forced the word out, pain nearly dragging me under, "My water broke."
Dante's face went white as a sheet. I'd never seen this man look so rattled. He looked like a kid who'd just lost his mom in a crowd.
"Fuck!" He spun toward the bedroom.
Through the chaos of footsteps, I heard something crash, followed by Dante's low cursing. I even heard him stumble over the carpet.
But I was in too much pain to give a damn if he'd hurt himself.
"This is your fault," I bit out, cold sweat beading on my forehead. "You went too fucking hard."
"I know, baby, I know." Dante rushed back with a bag, several equally flustered maids trailing behind. Through the pain, I realized—holy shit, he'd actually packed a hospital bag.
Dante's voice shook. "I'm getting you to the hospital. Right now."
He bent to lift me, but another contraction hit. I screamed, nails raking into his arm. Dante sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled me tighter against his chest.
"You're okay, baby," he said quietly. "We'll be at the hospital soon."
Then Dante barked at a panicked Richard. "Get the car! Now! Move!"
Everything after that felt like a dream.
The car screeched to a stop at the hospital entrance, but we were so far out that even at breakneck speed, we'd burned half an hour on the road. Then Dante carried me into the ER at a run. Doctors and nurses swarmed us. Someone wheeled over a gurney. Someone fired questions.
I dilated fast. Too fast. Before I knew it, they'd wheeled me into the delivery room. Dante threw on scrubs and followed. His hand never left mine.
I'd never felt pain like that in my life. I sobbed. I screamed. I bit down on Dante's arm.
"I'm sorry, baby." Dante repeated it over and over in my ear. "I'm sorry. After this one, we're done. I swear. Never again."
"Push!" the doctor shouted.
I didn't know where the hell I'd find the strength. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Every nerve burned. But I gritted my teeth and gave everything I had left.
Then I heard a cry.
In that moment, all the pain just stopped mattering.
Not that it disappeared—but suddenly it meant nothing, because that cry drowned out everything else.
"It's a boy," the nurse said, smiling. "A healthy baby boy."
I lay there completely spent, couldn't even move my fingers. Sweat plastered my hair to my face. My throat was raw from screaming, vision blurred. But when the nurse laid that tiny, wrinkled thing in my arms, tears spilled down my face.
He was so small.
Impossibly small.
His little face was all wrinkled, covered in vernix and blood. Ugly as hell, like a tiny old man. But when I looked down at him, at this little life that had just come out of my body, I suddenly understood what love meant.
This was love.
Unconditional, total, I'd-die-for-you love.
"God," I choked out. "He's here. He's really here."
Dante still stood beside the bed, still holding my hand. I looked up at him and found the man staring straight at me, eyes red as hell. He hadn't even glanced at the baby in the nurse's arms. All his attention was locked on me.
"Dante?" I said. "Don't you want to see our son?"
He didn't answer. He leaned down, cupped my face in his big hands, and kissed me.
His lips trembled against mine. I tasted salt—his tears or mine, I couldn't tell.
"Thank you," he said hoarsely, forehead pressed to mine. "Thank you, baby. Thank you for giving me a family. A real family."
I cried harder. One hand held the baby, the other shook as I reached up to touch Dante's face. Tears streamed down his cheeks too. This man who ruled the underworld was crying like a child.
"You idiot," I sobbed. "What are you thanking me for?"
"For having him," Dante said, voice barely audible. "For not leaving me."
He kissed me again, softer this time, almost careful. Then he finally looked at the baby in my arms.
The baby had stopped crying. He'd opened his eyes, staring up at the world with that hazy newborn gaze. Dante reached out and touched the baby's face with one finger.
"He's really so small," Dante said, voice full of wonder. "What if I hurt him?"
I laughed through my tears. "You won't."
"Can I hold him?"
"Of course. He's your son."
Dante's movements were comically clumsy. This man who usually moved with such fluid grace fumbled like an amateur. He lifted the baby into his arms carefully, going rigid as a board.
Dante looked down at the baby in his arms with an expression I'd never seen before. Wonder, awe, fear, and infinite tenderness—all mixed together. It made my heart ache.
"Hey, little guy," Dante said softly. "I'm your dad."
The baby stirred, tiny hand waving. Dante held out his finger. The baby's little hand immediately grabbed it, squeezed tight.
"Shit," Dante breathed. "He's holding onto me."
I watched Dante hold our child, tears streaming down my face again. The scene felt too unreal. So unreal I thought I was dreaming.
A few months ago, I'd thought I'd die alone. Thought I'd never have a real family. But now I was lying here, watching this man carefully cradle our baby.
"You know what the most amazing thing is?" I said quietly.
"What?" Dante looked up at me.
"He's ours," I said, voice full of wonder. "He's yours and mine. He has your blood in him and mine too. When I think about that, it just feels... miraculous."
Dante looked at me silently, emotion in his eyes so intense it nearly drowned me. He carefully laid the baby back in my arms, then sat on the edge of the bed, one arm around my shoulders.
"I'm so scared," I said suddenly, voice shaking. "I'm so scared I won't be good enough."
"You're going to be a great mom," Dante said.
Dante pulled me closer. We sat like that, neither of us speaking, just holding each other quietly, our baby in my arms.
"You're my hero," Dante said suddenly, voice soft. "You know that? You're the bravest person I've ever met."
Fresh tears rolled down my face. "You're my hero too."
Outside, dawn broke. Morning light filtered through the curtains. I looked down at the baby in my arms. He'd fallen back asleep, little face peaceful as an angel.
"I love you," Dante said suddenly, voice barely a whisper. "I love you both."
I closed my eyes and let the tears flow freely.
"I love you too," I said. "I love you both."
The morning light grew brighter, filling the small hospital room. I leaned against Dante, holding our baby, feeling a peace and happiness I'd never known before.
This was what family felt like. This was what love felt like.
And I finally, finally had it.