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Falynn
PLAYLIST: ? MORE - HALSEY ?
Five years earlier…
Ican’t stopthe nerves fluttering inside me. For once it’s not the baby. For once it’s the sight of my husband climbing a ten-foot-tall ladder. I watch on with a nervous smile, a hand at rest on the swell of my belly.
“Gio,” I moan, caught between worry and joy. “Be careful.”
He glances down at me with a slight grin. “Don’t worry, Honey. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“I’m pretty sure the Sorrentino family needs their King with two working legs.”
“A ten-foot fall is nothing.” He waves off, balancing himself on the top rung. He stretches out his long arms and hangs the next starry decoration. It sparkles as it dangles from the vaulted ceiling, joining the rest of the vivid sky we’ve pieced together for our little one.
Gio’s insisted on decorating the nursery ourselves. He says it makes it more special that we’ve put the room together versus allowing the staff to do it. At first, I thought he was joking—a Mafia King as powerful and savage as he is decorating a nursery was impossible to imagine, even as his wife—but he’s proven me wrong.
The moment couldn’t feel more sweet and intimate. He climbs down from the ladder and joins me for an appraisal of his handiwork, his arm sliding along my lower back. His strong fingers provide instant relief to the achy spot, affectionately gentle as he kneads me in a light massage. These days my lower back aches more often than not. I lean my head on his shoulder and release a contented sigh.
“What do you think?” he asks. His bright eyes rove over the length of the nursery, searching for the slightest imperfection in the twinkling, all-white room.
“Our little one’s going to love it.”
He presses his lips to my brow. “I can already see the two of you by that window.”
I hum my agreement. My gaze follows his words, traveling over to the large window, where we’ve placed a comfy rocking chair. Warmth fills my heart imagining quiet, intimate moments nursing our baby.
We’ve decided to forego learning the baby’s sex. It doesn’t matter if it’s a boy or girl; our baby will be cherished and showered with every ounce of love we have to give regardless.
Gio puts on a good front, acting cool and collected as the months go by, but I’ve caught him googling first-time-dad info, and even overheard him seeking Carlotta’s advice. He’s become more obsessive about ensuring I’m pampered to the fullest extent possible, and he hasn’t missed a single doctor’s appointment. A feat in itself as a Mafia King heading a major crime family.
I’ve never felt more like a priority. Me and our little one come before everything.
As if reading my thoughts, Gio says, “You feel too tense. You need some rest.”
“I’m fine, Gio.”
“You’ve been on your feet for too long.”
“I was sitting down for a whole hour earlier.”
“Doc saidbed rest, Honey. Yet here you are being a bad girl like always.” He teases me with a soft kiss, his warm hand sliding along the side of my neck.
I tease him back, leaning closer to give him a quick kiss of my mine. “And whose idea was it to decorate the nursery?”
“Only you could get away with mouthing off to the Don. But I just may have to remind you who’s really in charge later on. C’mon.” He grabs my hand and leads me out of our starry, twinkling nursery. I laugh as he guides me out of the room and leads us down the marble, gold-accented hall.
These days, Gio’s “punishments” consist of nothing but belly rubs and gentle, soaking baths. That’s usually after he makes passionate love to me. Pregnancy has made me surprisingly horny, and Gio’s managed to keep me feeling sexy and desired. He can barely resist touching me in some capacity. From my growing bump to my fuller, more sensitive breasts, he hasn’t shied away from making it known how much he loves the changes in my body.
If the public only knew.
Giovanni Anthony Sorrentino does nothing but dote on his wife and unborn child behind closed doors.
He’s the husband I’ve always dreamed of. He’ll be the father of my children I’ve always hoped for. It’s so surreal, I still question if any of this is real. I’m really this lucky. As he helps me into bed, I gift him a grateful smile, and realize I am.
“Mrs. Falynn,” Louis says, placing a gentle hand to my shoulder. “Gio’s on the phone. He wants a quick word.”
We’re on our way out, headed for my scheduled prenatal appointment. I thank him with a smile as he hands me his phone.
