Page 153 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

But I understand he’s staying upright to show my father that while he respects him, he won’t be intimidated by him.

“You’re the only man I know who isn’t even a little afraid of my father.”

"I am terrified," he admits. "But not of your father." He places his hand gently on my stomach. "I'm terrified of failing you both."

"I'm not worried about your failing us. I couldn't love you if I didn't believe in you completely."

His eyes search mine.

I hope he sees my sincerity.

What I see in his eyes is exhaustion.

"You need to rest.” I wrap my arm around his waist. "Let me take you home."

Roman steps forward. "I can drive?—"

"I'll drive him," I interrupt. "He's my responsibility now."

A smile tugs at Marco's lips. "I'm nobody's responsibility."

"Get used to it.” I walk with him toward the foyer. “This is what happens when you let someone love you."

“You’re both my responsibility,” Roman says. “I’ll drive you both home.”

I agree to that so I can focus on Marco during the ride.

As I help Marco into the car, I know with absolute certainty that whatever comes next, whether it's marriage, parenthood, or more threats against our families, we'll face it together.

No more secrets. No more walking away.

In the car, I sit with Marco in the back seat, his hand never leaving mine.

Roman keeps glancing at us in the rearview mirror, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"You need to rest when we get home," I tell Marco, studying the lines of pain etched around his eyes.

“Our home,” he says, and again, I feel like I’m living a dream.

“Take the drugs,” Roman says from the front seat. “You’re no good to anyone if you collapse.”

“I thought you’re supposed to be driving.” Marco turns to me. "Christmas is almost here.”

I laugh. "You're recovering from a gunshot wound, and you're worried about Christmas?"

He shrugs, then winces at the movement. "Your love for the holiday is infectious. I was thinking… you should coordinate whatever Christmas decor you want at the house."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "The Scrooge of La Corona is giving me carte blanche for Christmas decorations?"

Roman snorts from the front seat. "Better watch what you wish for, Boss. She might turn the place into the North Pole."

“As long as she’s with me, I’m okay with that.”

I squeeze his hand. "I'll keep it tasteful. Maybe just one life-sized Santa in every room."

His pained laugh is worth the joke. "Whatever makes you happy."

"You make me happy." I lean in to kiss his cheek. "Santa already delivered my present this year."