Page 193 of Savage Empire

I flush and nod shortly. “Most of the Italian names he suggested weren’t as appealing. I think Dante stole all of the best ones already.”

“Guilty,” my father-in-law replies with a chuckle.

“I like Luca, though. Or maybe Gio, when we have another.”

“When?” Ana laughs. “I could have sworn I heard you yelling that this would never happen again. Have you changed your mind?”

“Look at Vaughn’s little face, of course she did,” Jade coos. “His name is perfect, it suits him. Ugh, I’m so happy for you both.”

Apollo accepts the hug she wraps him up in, and a pinched cry from Vaughn cuts into the moment. Knowing it’s time for him to eat, everyone opts to give us privacy before even being asked. They’ll go home to sleep, and come back in the morning, at least Yordan and Dante will. They make sure to let us know they’ll come sooner if we need them, though.

My first attempt to breastfeed Vaughn was during the golden hour with nurses assisting. It went well, but there was definitely a small learning curve. The hospital has formula upon request, but so far, I haven’t needed to supplement. And as Vaughn quickly latches again, I think we’re still going strong. It pinches and feels odd, but the happy little noises he makes smacking his lips make it feel not so daunting.

Once he’s drunk his fill, Apollo takes him to do the burping so I can absolutely smash my food. It came just in time, and as soon as the takeout bag entered the room, I was salivating for it.

Every bit of it was savored with feral bites.

“Still feeling all right, love?” Apollo asks, softly rocking our son as he walks around the room to soothe him.

“Just tired,” I answer with a soft sigh. “That cheeseburger hit me like a turkey dinner. I feel like my eyes are barely staying open.”

“Get some sleep, baby. I’ve got him. We aren’t going anywhere, I promise.”

“You sure?” I ask hesitantly.

There isn’t a hint of uncertainty in his reply. “I’m sure.”

“You’ll ask for help if you get tired, won’t you?”

“Elio and Dad are on speed dial,” he confirms, not at all upset with my pestering. “I won’t let anything happen to Vaughn.”

And even though I’m riddled with maternal worries, I believe him. I’m able to drift off to sleep, the soft beeping of machines becoming almost like a soothing lullaby as everything goes calm and quiet.

The last thing I hear is my husband muttering quietly to our son, promising to love and protect him forever.

Life has never been better.

Epilogue 2

Apollo

Vaughn’s first month at home is a whirlwind. The days fly by, filled with late night feedings, diaper changes, baths, and outfit changes after spit up spills. He’s an unusually calm baby, only really crying when he needs something or occasionally if he wants to be cuddled. But according to my father, he has the same temperament as I did when I was born.

This evening is going to be the first dinner party we’ve hosted in our new house, and Vaughn’s first family dinner altogether. Everyone is coming from what I know, sans Melani for obvious reasons. Rayna refuses to see her while Sienna is still being held in a safe house. Abramo has been slowly taking over his territory, and she’s needed to stay hidden in the process.

My wife’s grudge toward Melani would cause more of an issue within the family, but according to Emilio, Melani doesn’t want to see her either. So for now, no one is trying to mend that fence. It’s something that the Bianchi sisters will need to address themselves.

“Are you sure that this looks okay?” Rayna asks, wandering into the kitchen with a worried expression. She rubs her hands down her stomach, smoothing her sweater down as she fidgets.

“You look beautiful,” I assure her for the third time.

Her sweater, leggings, and slipper combination is cozy, and more put together than she thinks it is. You’d think she was wearing a ripped T-shirt and faded sweat pants the way she’s worrying about it. She could be wearing a garbage bag and still look stunning.

I knew that Rayna was gorgeous when I met her, and my attraction to her only grew as we became closer. But the way she looks when she’s caring for our son? It’s indescribable. Even when her hair is a wreck and her clothes are stained with spit up, she makes my heart fucking race.

She blushes. “I just feel underdressed for a dinner party.”

“I’m literally wearing a baby,” I tell her, chuckling as I gesture to our son who’s wrapped up in a sling, sleeping peacefully on my chest.