Page 112 of Luciano

“My wife.” Yes, I was his wife. He was my everything. “My strong, brave wife.”

“I don’t know about that,” I muttered. “I was scared. Both Ella and I were.”

I thought back to the struggles as we roamed Europe, worries about Matteo, hiding from him and my family. Were they wasted years? For naught?

“You are brave, and I don’t deserve you.” He took my face between his hands, his lips brushing against the tip of my nose. “But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. You gave me a son, named him after my father, even after I fucked up majorly.”

“I loved you,” I told him simply. “And I still do. I didn’t betray you; I’ll never betray you. But I can understand your anger. My family cost you a lot.”

“But that wasn’t your debt to pay.”

I had to agree with him there. “Fresh start,” I murmured.

“Yes, fresh start,” he agreed.

“I have to tell you one more thing.” We might as well lay it all on the table. He waited, tense. “I have been laundering money. I won’t do it anymore, but you should probably know. Just in case some shit follows when I give my notice. Though to be honest, I kind of liked it.” I peered at him through my lashes. “I wouldn’t mind continuing it, as my little side hustle. Maybe we will become competitors.”

His booming laugh filled the room, and I wondered what was so funny.

“I know, my little Ghost. Because I’m the Ruthless King.”

My eyes widened at his admission. “What?”

“I just found out you were the Ghost a few days ago.” He pressed a feather light kiss against my mouth. “My little criminal.”

My lips curved into a smile against his. “I had the best teacher.”

Epilogue

Luciano - One Year Later

Our home backyard was draped in silence, as we listened to the priest's words, blessing our baby girl. Our little Francesca Aria Vitale, named after my mother and Grace’s. Dark hair framed her little face, matching her big brother’s and mine. But it was her eyes that had everyone falling all over themselves. She had her mother’s beautiful eyes.

My wife. I’d never get sick and tired of saying those two words. She cradled our daughter in her arms, her small body leaning against mine. I studied my wife’s rosy cheeks and ginger red hair strands flying with the light breeze.

This woman was my beginning, my middle, and my end. She was my whole life. This family, blood and non-blood, was what this life was about.

“You are staring at me,” she whispered under her breath, so only I could hear it.

“You love when I watch you.”

And her wide smile was my confirmation. I’d never tire of watching her soft smile and happiness on her beautiful face.

The christening ceremony for our new addition was perfect. Nonno and Matteo practically shone like lightbulbs. My father must have taken some kind of reverse aging cream because I swore he looked better and younger each day. He swore it was happiness and our family.

Vasili and his wife, along with their one-year-old son were here with us, as well as Alessio, Nico, Luca, Alexei, and Raphael.

The priest called for the godfather to step in. I was surprised when Grace suggested Cassio for the godfather, knowing her aversion to the King family.

“He is your best friend,” she murmured. “Ella is my best friend. She is Matteo’s godparent. It is only fair, your best friend is Francesca’s.”

Needless to say, Cassio was shocked as well. There might have been a slight resemblance of a tear in his eyes. I wasn’t sure.

Grace gently handed our daughter to Cassio and smiled.

“Protect my baby,” she joked.

“With my life,” he vowed. And I knew he would.