Epilogue
“Gianna, you may not wear your snow boots to school on Monday!” Catarina called out to her seven-year-old daughter, her voice strained with that special mix of patience and desperation only mothers could understand.
Barbara chuckled from the doorway, earning a sharp glare from Catarina.
“But, Momma, I love my snow boots! They have the sparkly stuff on them!” Gianna twirled, her little curls bouncing as reflected sunshine danced across the hallway walls.
Catarina sighed as she wrestled with the zipper on her daughter’s winter coat.
Unfortunately, Gianna was too entranced by her sparkly boots to cooperate, spinning like a disco ball on a sugar high.
Not to mention Fuzz and Rusty—two of the puppies that had stayed with their mother dog, MD.
The younger dogs liked the idea of spinning and decided to get in on the action.
They waddled over and licked Gianna’s cheeks enthusiastically.
It wasn’t affection; they were after the leftover syrup from breakfast pancakes.
“Sal!” Catarina called in exasperation, just as her husband strolled down the hallway carrying five-year-old Rocco under one arm like a sack of flour.
“I think you’re missing something,” Sal remarked dryly, bouncing the boy once, which only caused the little tyrant to shriek with laughter. “Does this happen when you’re teaching art classes at school?” he teased.
Catarina groaned, ignoring his question. “Rocco, how did you—?”
“I suspect you were distracted by the lovely sparkles on this lady’s boots!” Sal boomed dramatically, bending to ruffle Gianna’s curls. She giggled louder, while Rocco—now upside down thanks to his father’s antics—kicked his legs like a gleeful maniac.
“Are you going to be okay outside today? It’s still pretty cold,” Sal commented, straightening his son out before the boy made himself dizzy.
Catarina peeked out the window. The snow had finally stopped, leaving a fresh white blanket sparkling under the sun. “There’s zero chance we’re keeping these two inside now. The sun’s out, which means they’re basically feral.”
“Hold up—I’ll come with you,” Sal said, casually hoisting Gianna onto his other arm like carrying two children was just part of his daily workout routine. “You’re just taking them to the park across the street, right?”
“Yeah, but don’t you have that meeting with the Tokyo representatives?”
He shrugged. “They want to sell me something, and I’m not in the mood to be sold to.” His mouth curved into a smirk. “Building a snowman sounds like a better use of my time.”
Both kids squealed, bouncing like caffeinated bunnies. Rocco pumped his fist in the air. “I call the hat!”
Gianna gasped. “No! I want the hat! You can do the carrot nose!”
“You can’t even eat the carrot nose!” Rocco shot back.
“Why would you eat a nose?!” Gianna shrieked, horrified.
While the debate escalated, Catarina pressed a hand to her husband’s chest, her heart swelling as she looked up at him. “You’re amazing,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Sal murmured, kissing her softly.
The tender moment was immediately interrupted by loud groans and exaggerated gagging from their children.
“Ewww! Gross!” Rocco covered his eyes dramatically.
Gianna pretended to collapse even while still held awkwardly in her father’s arms. “They’re kissing again! Somebody save me!”
Sal just chuckled, then kissed her again. “They’ll thank us someday,” he said confidently.
“Or need therapy,” Catarina countered, but she was laughing too.
A note from Elizabeth:
This book wasn’t supposed to exist. Writing “dark mafia” stories was only an experiment.
But after writing the first three, my mind kept going.
This is why there are so many more stories in this series.
And I’m writing even more. I love the power dynamic in a “dark mafia” story – but the genre also allows me to fuel my anti-corporate greed and corruption ideas.
I know these stories aren’t actually “dark mafia” because my guys don’t deal in drugs or human trafficking.
I just can’t touch those themes, but I hope that these stories touch your heart as much as they have moved me as I write them.