Page 114 of Savage Vows

EPILOGUE

Matteo

I lean against the doorjamb of our bedroom, arms crossed, watching as Alessia emerges from her closet. My breath catches, the sight of her enough to knock me off balance, even after weeks of waking up to her every morning.

She’s stunning in a pale sheath dress. The fabric clings to her body in all the right ways. The soft golden light from the bedside lamp catches the subtle shimmer in the material, making her look like she’s glowing. Or maybe that’s just her—my wife, my beautiful, infuriating, perfect wife.

She pauses to adjust the thin strap on her shoulder, the small movement highlighting the elegant curve of her neck. I let my gaze linger, taking in every detail of her.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” I ask as I trail my gaze down her figure. She stops midway across the room, her eyebrows knitted together, her head tilted to one side in confusion.

“What do you mean?” she asks, smoothing her hands down the dress, checking for wrinkles or some imagined flaw.

I push off the doorjamb and walk toward her, slow and deliberate. “I mean…” Dropping my voice, I say, “You look so damn sexy that if we don’t leave right now, I’m not letting you out of this house.”

Her lips part slightly, a flush rising to her cheeks. “Matteo…” she starts, but I close the distance between us, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her close. Her hands instinctively press against my chest, a futile attempt to create space between us.

“We’re already running late,” she protests, but her voice is soft, breathy.

When it comes to her, I’m insatiable. And her passions match mine. “They can wait.” I slide my hand onto her belly, gently against the flat expanse. “I know it’s early, but the fact you’re carrying our child…”Fuck. It does something to me. “I couldn’t be more filled with joy.” New life. New beginnings. New hope. I only wish my father had lived to see his first grandchild.

With a soft, maternal-like smile, she covers my hand with hers.

I still can’t believe it. We made love without protection one time. Our wedding day.

The memory of that encounter floods back, a mix of passion, desperation, and the blossoming love I’d be terrified to acknowledge. “It was meant to be,” I say simply. “And we’re in agreement? If it’s a boy…”

“Raffaele,” she finishes softly. “There’s nothing more fitting.”

I press my forehead to hers, cupping her face as I kiss her deeply. “I couldn’t love you more, Alessia.” Though I try, every day. “Are you ready to tell my family?”

She shakes her head. “If it’s okay, I want to keep it a secret. Just to be sure. In case…” Her breath catches.

“Everything will be fine,” I promise her. And I’ll be with her every step of the way.

“I think it’s still going to be a while before I show,” she murmurs, her fingers grazing over my hand. “So we have time.”

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “This is the start of something incredible. You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

“And you’ll be a great father.”

I vow I will be, involved like my father had been. There’s a legacy to pass on.Family first.

We arrive at my mother’s house, right after Dario does. Nico and Bella are already there.

Within moments, we’re swept into hugs and offered wine. I accept, but Alessia declines.

While Nico and Dario talk, Gina and Bella exchange knowing glances. My mother ushers Alessia into the dining room and tells her to have a seat, refusing to let her help with anything.

So much for keeping secrets, at least from the ladies.

Sunday dinner feels different without my father sitting at the head of the table, his calm authority anchoring us all. The space isn’t somber—it never could be with my mother bustling about, making sure everyone has second and third helpings—but there’s an undercurrent of grief wrapped around our exchanges.

Alessia is seated next to me, and she laughs as Nico regales her with a story that might be an exaggeration—or outright fiction.

Across the table, Dario groans, shaking his head at Nico’s antics. “You’re so full of shit, Nico. No way that happened.”

“It did!” Nico protests, raising a hand as if swearing an oath. “You can ask Matteo. He was there.”