Page 42

EPILOGUE

Stella

“I refuse to allow Dre to go to prison,” I tell Zara as we lounge on the sofa in her and Creed’s penthouse. After spending hours having a princess tea party with Oriana, my adorable baby sister, she’s asleep in bed, and it’s finally time for some adult conversation. While the curly-haired woman looks sweet, I’m quickly learning she has just as much venom as I do, possibly more when it comes to her daughter and unborn child.

I have no doubt Cami would love Zara and Oriana. I can’t wait until she’s finally home so she can meet them. Although, I probably won’t tell my sister we’re blood relatives of Oriana’s.

Kai Sanna is being a prick, though, refusing to listen to his father or Saint’s threats to return Cami to us. When she calls to check in once a week, my peppy sister sounds depressed. There’s a part of me that wonders if she actually is in a hurry to come home now that we lost our mother.

“Agreed. Creed can’t go to prison.” Zara tucks her legs underneath her. Her baby bump is twice as big as it was the last time I saw her. “If he misses the birth of our son, he’ll lose his mind. And it’s not like I know how to take care of a newborn on my own…”

Rather than go into the reason my father made Zara miss the newborn stage with her daughter, I say, “Tristan’s been dragging his feet. We need to light a fire under his ass. Or take matters into our own hands before any trials gets scheduled.”

“Yes, we do. You know what, I’ll tell Tristan to get his ass over right now to give us an update.” Zara types on her phone what I assume is a message to the man.

While we wait, we debate boy names, my favorite of which is Zane or Ryland. I can’t wait until Andre and I will get to pick out names for our child.

“So, do you think you’re having a girl or a boy?” Zara asks me with a smirk.

“Do you mean like in the future?”

“Oh, come on. I can keep a secret.”

“I’m not pregnant,” I assure her.

Tilting her head to the side, she studies me closely. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” Well, I haven’t taken a test or anything, but my period isn’t even late yet.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Stella. Your tits are exquisite, but you’re a second away from flashing nipple if you don’t find a bigger bra to wrangle them into your top.”

“What?” I exclaim as I glance down at my ample cleavage in the low cut, cropped sweater, the one I wore just weeks ago the night Andre came over to finalize the deal for our wedding.

“Are they sore? They look swollen and sore like mine. Give them a squeeze,” Zara encourages, causing my jaw to drop.

“You know drinking to excess during pregnancy isn’t good for the baby,” I huff.

“I’m not drunk. I’m just being honest.”

“A little too honest,” I mutter before I subtly let my arms squeeze my boobs together. “Ow!”

Zara giggles. “Ha! I knew it. You’re definitely pregnant.”

“I’m not even late yet. It’s probably just hormones making my boobs swell.”

“Yeah, all those baby hormones.” She laughs. “Congrats, Stella! You’re knocked up.”

Now more curious, I cave and press my palms to the sides of my larger than usual breasts, which makes me swear because they’re so damn sore.

I stare at Zara, seeing the enthusiasm on her face and realize she’s serious. I might be pregnant.

“Fix your face before you see Dre,” I warn her. “I need to take a test to confirm before getting his hopes up. And don’t even think about telling Creed because you know he’ll run his mouth!”

“My lips are absolutely sealed. I thought you knew and were just keeping it quiet through the first trimester.”

“No. I need to get a test and take it ASAP without Dre finding out.”

“I think I have some extras if you want to…”

“Yes.” I’m on my feet before she says another word. I want to know, need to know right now.

“Okay, but just remember sometimes when it’s this early, before you’re late, you may not get a positive on the stick.” Zara leads the way to her bathroom.

But I don’t need her reassurances. Before I even open the package, I already know what it’s going to say.

* * *

I’m excited and scared all at the same time. Mostly, I’m sad my mom isn’t here to tell her the news.

“Should I wait to tell Dre after the charges are dropped?” I ask Zara when we return to the living room to wait for Tristan. I’m still trembling with nerves and adrenaline.

“That’s up to you. Do you want him to go to prison for first-degree murder? Because if you tell him now, I have a feeling the DA won’t survive the night. You have no idea how much work it’s taken me to keep Creed from putting a bullet in her head himself. I had to threaten to withhold sex, then tell him he wouldn’t see me or the baby ever again if he went to prison for murdering an innocent woman.”

“You’d really do that? Never see him again if he was rotting in prison serving a life sentence?” I chew on my thumbnail while trying to decide whether to tell Andre right away or wait.

“Of course I’d go see him! I’d be angry at him, furious, but I would want to see my husband every chance I could get,” Zara replies just before the penthouse front door opens, and a familiar man strolls in without guards because they know he’s not a threat.

When he appears in the living room, he glances at us with a frown on his handsome face that reminds me of my grumpy husband’s. Tristan’s leaner, his dark hair a little longer, and his beard less tidy. “This doesn’t look like an emergency.”

“Well, it is!” Zara huffs as we both get to our feet.

Striding toward the man in a pitch-black designer suit that looks baggy on him and like he’s going to yet another funeral, I give his shoulder a hard shove, sending his combat boots back a step. Who wears boots with a suit? This smug fucker, apparently. “Are you going to figure out how to keep my husband out of prison or not, you slacking jackass?” We have a baby on the way. I can’t lose Andre for a day, much less years.

“Yeah, what she said,” Zara chimes in from behind me.

“Whoa. Did you two seriously invite me over, calling me off my surveillance, to bitch at me?” Andre’s cousin huffs as he looks between us.

“Not bitch,” I assure him. “We are simply demanding action from you.”

“Look, not that I owe either of you an explanation, but I think I have a foolproof plan to enact this weekend. By Monday, the charges will be as good as dismissed, and no blood will be shed.”

“How?” I ask him.

Tristan smirks. “I finally figured out a way to unravel the uptight DA.”

Grabbing his thin, black tie, I tug his smug face toward mine, causing his dark brown eyes to widen in surprise. “We want to see results Monday, or your blood and hers is going to spill.”

“Jesus, woman!”

“I wouldn’t test her, Tristan.”

“Do we have an agreement?” I ask him.

Before he can respond, the penthouse doors open, and the shape of two big men in suits fill the corner of my eye. “What’s wrong? Tristan said you told him there was an emergency. Why did you ask him for help instead of calling us up from Omerta?” Creed snaps at his wife.

“Stella, mia dolce vipera ,” my husband begins, his tone calmer. “Please don’t choke our cousin to death. I prefer to be the only one you yank around by the tie.”

Ignoring him, I slowly ask the man in my grasp again, “Do we have an agreement?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” I let him go, and he reaches up to loosen the tie.

“Everything okay?” Andre asks when he appears at my side a second later. He lifts a hand as if to reach for me but lowers it before touching me.

Turning to face him, I take his hand to wrap it around my waist while winding my arms around his neck. “Everything is going to be fine. My sister will be returned home soon, your criminal charges are going to be dropped, and then you’re going to buy us a place with at least two more bedrooms.”

“Hell yes,” Andre agrees without hesitation as he kisses my lips, knowing the extra bedrooms will be for our babies.

God, I want to tell him now, but Zara is right. In all his excitement, he may do something drastic. Besides, it’s best to wait a few more days just to make sure it’s going to stick. By then, the charges will be gone, one way or another, even if I have to take out the DA myself.

“Jesus, you two are so damn whipped,” Tristan remarks while completely undoing his tie as if he’s worried I might lunge for it and choke him to death next time.

“Jealous?” Creed asks from where Zara stands in his arms.

“Hell no. I prefer to be the one who does all the whipping.” Tristan grins.

Oh, I can’t wait to see the day some woman pussy whips him. The man stupidly thinks his cousins bow to our whims simply because they’re addicted to the great sex they’re getting from us. Not that the sex with Andre isn’t also amazing. But it’s love, not sex that makes the stubborn mobsters bend over backward for their wives. How do I know? Because if I asked my husband to never touch me again, I know without a doubt he wouldn’t touch me. He’d stay by my side, depriving himself of pleasure, and keep loving me without the physical intimacy, just to make me feel safe and happy. That’s why I love him more than anything in this world.

“Tristan’s promised results on the charges by Monday,” I inform Andre.

“Has he?”

“He has.”

“If he succeeds, I’ll take off next week and spend it in bed with you.”

“Like a real honeymoon?” I ask him as I spear my fingers through the back of his hair, my body heating up all over at the thought. I’m glad the baby hormones haven’t done anything to kill my libido.

“Once the charges are dismissed, and I’m no longer on probation, we can go anywhere you want, baby.”

“Let’s just stay home in our bed, surrounded by mirrors.” I brush my lips over his and lower my voice so only he can hear. “Although, I wouldn’t mind moving a few of them into your office, so I can watch you bend me over your desk or go down on you underneath it…”

Andre groans against my lips. “I love you so damn much, mia dolce vipera .”

The End For Now