Chapter 27
MARCO
“Marco!” Roman's face swims above mine, his features blurring at the edges.
I try to speak but only manage a grunt.
The warehouse ceiling spins overhead.
Roman barks orders into his phone, his voice reverberating strangely in my ears.
"Dr. Salerno… tell him to prepare… blood loss…" He looks down at me. “Don’t you die on me.”
I’m not afraid. Not really.
But Roman’s tormented face tells me that death is coming and I don’t feel ready.
Too many things are left unsaid.
Darkness encroaches again. I fight against it, clawing my way back to consciousness. Gabriella. Where's Gabriella?
"She's safe," Roman says, though I don't remember asking. "Antonio has her."
Strong arms lift me.
Pain explodes across my chest, and I'm floating, then bumping along.
Car door. Leather seats. The smell of my own blood, metallic and thick.
“Go! Go! Go!” Roman barks at the driver as he sits with me in the back of the vehicle.
"Stay awake, Marco." Roman's voice pulls me back from the edge. "Tell me what it was like to put two in Frank, that mother fucker."
I know he’s trying to keep me conscious, but I find it impossible to respond to him.
My thoughts are too chaotic, like a kaleidoscope in my mind.
Gabriella.
The baby. My baby.
I'm going to be a father.
The very thing I knew I could never be, and yet when it mattered, I did what was required.
I stepped in front of that gun without hesitation.
For her. For them.
"Roman."
He leans closer. "Save your strength."
"Listen." I grab his wrist with what little strength I have. "If I don't make it—"
"You will."
"If I don't," I insist, "take care of them. Gabriella. The baby…"
“Baby?” He shakes his head. "Take care of her yourself."
"Promise me." The darkness is winning now, pulling me under. "You’ll take over as Don, as promised, but she gets everything else. Both of them do. Promise me."
"I promise," Roman says. "But you're going to live to regret making me say it, you stubborn bastard."
Darkness pulls me under again.
Voices drift in and out.
A needle pricks my arm.
Dr. Salerno's familiar gravelly voice. “Blood pressure dropping…"
I'm eight years old again, cowering in my bedroom closet.
My father's voice booms through the house, cursing my mother. Glass shatters.
Her sobs echo down the hallway.
"More pressure on the wound…"
Now I'm twenty-two, standing over my father's and brother’s graves.
Not a tear in sight.
Just emptiness and the crushing weight of the Calabresi name suddenly on my shoulders.
Antonio's hand rests on my back, steadying me.
"He's stabilizing…"
Gabriella's face appears, her smile lighting up my library last Christmas.
How I pulled her into my arms that first time, surprised by how perfectly she fit there.
"We need to move him…"
My father towers over me, his face twisted in rage. "Love makes you weak, boy. Don’t cry for your mama, you fucking pussy." His hand strikes my mother across the face. She falls, weeping.
"Marco, can you hear me?"
Gabriella again, her face pale, her eyes filled with pain as I let her walk away. Twice.
"Pupils responsive…"
The warehouse. Frank's gun aimed at her.
The decision made in less than a heartbeat. Stepping forward, not away. For love. The opposite of everything my father taught me.
"He's coming around…"
I force my eyes open, vision blurry and unfocused.
Roman's face swims into view. "Welcome back, you stubborn bastard."
My throat feels like sandpaper. "Gabriella?"
"Safe. With her father."
I try to sit up, but hands push me back down. “You’re not ready. You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t push it.”
The days blur together in a haze of pain and medication.
I drift in and out of consciousness, waking to Roman's concerned face or Dr. Salerno checking my bandage.
Sometimes I think I hear Gabriella's voice, but when I force my eyes open, she's never there.
"How long?" I croak when I finally manage to stay awake for more than a few minutes.
Roman glances up from his phone. "Five days. You lost a lot of blood."
Five days.
Five days of my life gone while Gabriella thinks I believed she betrayed me.
"I need to see her." I push myself up, ignoring the fire that rips through my chest.
"You need to rest," Roman counters, moving to my bedside. "The bullet missed anything vital, but you're still weak."
"What day is it?"
"Few days before Christmas.”
The urgency hits me like another bullet. I can't waste another day. "Help me up."
Roman's face hardens. "Marco—"
"Either help me or watch me fall on my ass trying to do it myself."
He sighs, the sound of a man who knows he's fighting a losing battle. "You're the most stubborn son of a bitch I've ever met."
“I need things… call Maria… then I need to go to Antonio’s—”
“Marco… fucking hell… If you want to leave, I’ll take you home.”
“I’m still the Don, right?”
“Fucker.”
With Roman's reluctant assistance, I swing my legs over the side of the bed.
The room tilts, but I grip the edge of the mattress until the spinning stops.
My body feels like it belongs to someone else, weak and uncooperative.
"This is a mistake," Roman mutters as he helps me stand.
Maybe it is.
But the only real mistake would be letting Gabriella go again.
Three times would be unforgivable.
Getting dressed is an exercise in patience and pain.
Roman has to help me with everything, and by the time I'm dressed in a simple button-down and slacks, sweat beads on my forehead from the effort.
"At least take the painkillers," Roman insists, holding out two pills.
I shake my head. "I need a clear mind."
The drive to Antonio's feels eternal.
Every bump in the road sends shockwaves of pain through my body.
To distract from the agony, I stare out the window at the Christmas decorations lining the streets, twinkling lights and wreaths adorning doorways.
Last year, I barely noticed them.
This year, they remind me of Gabriella's smile when she saw the decorations I'd arranged for her.
“Tell Maria to buy every Christmas decoration she can find.”
Roman glances at me. “Who are you and what did you do with Marco Calabresi?”
I give him the finger, and that little movement hurts too.
Roman clears his throat. “So… you mentioned a baby. I can’t decide if you were hallucinating or not.”
“I wasn’t.”
This time, he does a double-take. “A little old, aren’t you?”
My lips twitch upward that he’s going to razz me instead of pointing out all the legit reasons I shouldn’t be a father. “Didn’t stop you. I wouldn’t be surprised if Isabella knocked out a few more for you.”
He grins. “I’m a virile guy. I also like being married and having kids.”
I inhale a breath.
It feels like the first breath I’ve ever taken. “Maybe I will too.”
We turn down Antonio’s street, and the optimistic hope I was feeling falters. "What if she doesn't want to see me?"
"Then you'll know you tried."
When we pull up to Antonio's estate, doubt nearly overwhelms me.
What right do I have to ask for anything from her?
I've pushed her away at every turn, denied the possibility of a future together, rejected the idea of our child.
"You want me to go in first?" Roman asks.
"No." I straighten my spine, ignoring the pain. "This is something I need to do myself."
The walk to Antonio's front door feels like a mile, my body protesting the exertion.
But with every painful step, my resolve strengthens.
I won't leave without telling her everything, how I feel, what I want, who I want to be.
Not a man like my father, but a man worthy of her.
Worthy of our child.
I ring the doorbell. This is it. No more running. No more hiding behind the ghost of my father's lessons.
“For what it’s worth,” Roman says as he stands behind me, my enforcer, my wingman, “you’ll be a good husband and father.”
I give him a grateful smile and then prepare to fight for what matters.
The door swings open, and the butler, someone I don’t recognize, invites us in, telling us to wait in the foyer.
“I don’t think he knows who you are,” Roman says, his tone irritated at the disrespect.
When Antonio appears, his expression is full on fury.
“Or maybe he does,” I murmur, thinking Antonio must know about the baby and my failure to do what was right.
"You have some nerve showing up here.” Despite being older, he radiates an intimidating power. “You’ve disrespected my daughter. I won’t let that slide, Marco.”
"I know."
"You know?" He steps closer. "You think knowing is enough? After everything I've done for you over the years, this is how you repay me?"
The old Marco would have reminded Antonio what I’ve done for him this last year.
Pointed out that I saved Gabriella's life, taking a bullet for her.
But that Marco is gone, left behind in that warehouse with Frank's body.
"I was wrong," I say simply. "About everything."
Antonio's laugh is bitter. "And now you want forgiveness? A clean slate?"
"No." I meet his gaze steadily. "I don't deserve forgiveness. But Gabriella deserves to hear the truth from me, even if she sends me away afterward."
He studies me for a long moment.
Antonio has always been shrewd, even with his mental faculties declining.
He knows what a marriage between our families would mean.
But I also believe that he’d ban a marriage between me and Gabriella to protect her or slight me.
Family has always been more important to him than power and money.
"If she doesn't want to see you, will you leave without a fight?"
"Yes." And I will. Despite all appearances, I do try to be a man of honor.
"I should put a bullet in you right now for what you've done to my little girl."
Roman moves forward to block Antonio.
I raise my palm. "Stand down.” I hold Antonio’s gaze so he can see the truth of my words in my eyes. "Then do it. But let me speak to her first."
Something shifts in his expression, respect, perhaps. He's testing me, and we both know it.
"You're either the bravest man I know," Antonio says finally, "or the most foolish."
"Probably both," I admit.
He stares at me for another long moment before stepping aside. "She’s in the living room wrapping presents. But Marco?"
His hand catches my arm as I pass. "If you hurt her again, no one will find your body."
I nod once. "I understand."
The threat doesn't frighten me. What terrifies me is the possibility that I'm already too late.
“Wait for me here,” I tell Roman as I start the long trek to the living room.
“What if she tries to kill you?” Roman says.
“I’ll deserve it.”
I finally reach the entryway to the living room.
It’s the epitome of Christmas.
Lights sparkle. Garlands drape.
An electric train runs on a track around the base of the tree. But once I find Gabriella, she’s all I see.
In that moment, I fully realize why she’s seeped into my soul.
She's always been the light in my darkness.
I understand now that my happiness has always been tied to her, even when I was too stubborn to admit it.
I take a step forward and she turns, her eyes widening as she takes in my haggard appearance.
"Marco?" She stands, uncertainty written across her face.
I feel like I’m a million years old as I move toward her. When I reach her, I don't touch her, though everything in me aches to.
She remains silent, wary.
I’ve never done this before, and so I’m not sure what to do.
Do I apologize first?
Lead by confessing my feelings?
I hear movement behind me, becoming aware that Antonio and Roman are right outside the living room, looking in. I’d like privacy, but I haven’t earned it in Antonio's mind, and Roman is always going to be near when an adversary is present.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she finally says.
“Thank you for saving mine.”
Her brow furrows, and I suppose my words don’t make sense.
“I’ve been dead inside for a long time. Until you, Gabriella.” What always seemed impossible, sharing my feelings, gets easier with each word I utter. “I love you.”
She gasps, clearly not expecting that.
“I have for a long time. Long before last Christmas,” I continue, the words tumbling out now that I've started.
"I knew then, as I do now, that I’m too old and surly for a woman as warm and beautiful as you.
I have no idea how to be a good life partner or father.
" I swallow hard. "But I know now that I'd rather die than live in a world without you in it. Without our child."
I reach for her hand tentatively in case she’s repulsed by my touch.
She doesn't pull away, which gives me courage.
"I know I have no right to ask anything of you.
I've pushed you away at every turn. I've been cruel, stubborn, afraid, and unworthy of you, but I pledge to you that if you give me this chance, I will spend every day of my life trying to deserve it.
I will protect you and our child with everything I have.
I'll learn to be the man you need, the father our baby deserves. "
My legs nearly buckle beneath me, the exertion of standing taking its toll. I steady myself, refusing to show weakness now.
Not because my father’s words echo in my mind, but because I need her to see the truth of who I am now.
I gently place my hand over her stomach, overwhelmed by the miracle growing beneath my palm.
Our child.
The thing I once feared most has become my greatest hope.
"But whatever you decide, I'll respect it. If you choose to go to Italy, I'll ensure you have everything you need. If you want me to stay away, I will, though it will destroy me."
The room falls silent except for the sound of Christmas music.
"You took a bullet for me.”
It’s not what I want to hear, but I’ll take it. "I would take a thousand more."
I hold my breath, terrified and hopeful all at once.
I pray for a chance I don't deserve but desperately want, a chance to build a future with the woman I love and the child we've created.
At this moment, the world comes to a screeching halt as I wait to learn whether she’ll say words that save me or condemn me.