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“I’m yours. All yours,” I whisper.
“Mine.” His voice is a low, hungry rasp. “Your heart and everything in our future.Tutto mio.”
All mines.I groan in agreement as his length grinds against me, narrowly missing my entrance. “You’re mine, too. I need you. Please, Nico, just—“
He doesn’t drive me wild with desperation a moment longer. He thrusts forward, and I moan with pleasure along with him as his thickness drives into me. God, he feels so fucking good. For a moment, Nico moves leisurely, kissing me as he grinds in and out.
Then he rips off my blindfold, and I breathe out at the look in his beautiful turquoise eyes. It’s utter adoration mixed with possessive, delicious need.
All mines.
I smile and kiss him again, infusing it with how much I fucking love him. He moans and thrusts faster, using one hand to adjust my legs until they’re over his shoulders, and he’s driving deep and hard. I gasp and cry out at the savage pace, shutting my eyes as stars explode in my vision and pleasure sparks through me.
Nico swears and kisses me, consuming my gasps and moans until he finds his own release. We both pant and gasp, his lips pressed in my hair and my toes just remembering how to uncurl again.
“So fucking perfect,” he grits in a soft tone. “I’m not letting you go again.”
“Good,” I smile, shutting my eyes and basking in the absolute bliss of being with Nico. “Because I’m never letting you go either,amore mio.”
Epilogue
It’s not fair that we can’t talk to the dead because sometimes they deserve good news.
And these days, I have a lot of good news.
Nico Attolini is thePadrinoof the Attolini family now—which basically consists of the Gattos, too. Or at least the ones who wanted to join in. Percy the Kid survived the shot to his chest by a slim miracle, and he’s the newCapo Bastone.Which means nowadays, we don’t have to linger around Nico’s old life much. He can spend his time doing much more important things like…this.
God, if only Angela was here. She’d be laughing with me.
I set my hand on the light swell of my baby bump as I walk into the nursery, leaning against the door and fighting a smile. It’s not a big room, but God is it overboard. Everything in here is the best of the best, either custom-made to fit the beautiful design or so expensive that I don’t even want to think about it. The crib in one corner is shrouded in beautiful gauze, the rocking chair beside it is the most luxurious rocking chair I’ve ever seen, and there are far too many toys already waiting for a baby who hasn’t come yet.
And now, the pink. I bite back a laugh as I watch Nico finish painting one edge of the statement color wall. If I thought he was a neat freak before, I’d never seen him paint. The mafioso is a perfectionist who doesn’t rest until every line is clean and crisp, and apparently, he doesn’t trust painters to get it right.
Nico glances over his shoulder and narrows his eyes at my amusement. “Admit it. It looks perfect now.”
“You’re going to spoil her rotten if you keep this up, you know that?”
He smirks and drops the edger with the other painting supplies, stalking toward me. Ever the paradox, because how can someone look so dangerously sexy when they’re covered in streaks of powder-pink paint?
I giggle as he pulls me close and growls in my ear, “I get to spoil our little Angelina. You don’t get to stop me.”
Angelina.
I smile as he holds me for a moment, looking around the room and fighting tears. Stupid pregnancy emotions running rampant. But it’s not like I can help it. If someone told me six months ago that I’d be engaged to Nico Attolini and pregnant with his daughter, I would have high-tailed it out of there in fear that I’d cross paths with him, and he would follow up on his promise to kill me.
Now, life is better than I could have imagined.
My family is safer than ever, with no threat of the Gattos coming after them again. They know about Nico and who he is now, and honestly? They couldn’t be bothered less by it. Mark loves his job. My mother is here every other weekend, gushing about being a grandmother soon.
And Krista just started dating Ace, which both thrills and chagrins me. He has another scar on his face from Nico’s coffee table, just under his hairline, but otherwise, he’s just fine. In fact, he’s like a heartsick puppy, following Krista around all over the place with a big, goofy smile whenever she looks at him. Of course, she’s secretly obsessed with her “bad boy mafioso,” but at least their relationship has made Ace switch gears. He’s not an enforcer anymore and works some kind of office job—still connected to the Attolini family, but far safer.
Percy still nags Nico about getting his assistant’s number sometimes, but he’s stepped into the role of underboss well. There’s never been more peace between the Attolini and Gatto families, and there’s probably no one better to head it all up than The Kid, who has a way with negotiation.
Giovanni didn’t make it. Some other members of Nico’s family didn’t either. But the funerals were more full of hope than I expected any mafioso funeral to be, and Nico’s attendance at several Gatto funerals reinforced how serious he is about keeping the peace.
Which his father accepted, thank heavens.
Johnny Big Man lives at some hidden lake house now, that I have yet to see, but I see him regularly. I think his age and his retirement have softened him more than Nico ever could have anticipated. Now he’s possibly more thrilled about having a granddaughter on the way than my mother is.
