Page 160 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don

"Ready?" Marco asks as he takes my hand.

"I’m always ready for Christmas. What about you?” I lean into his warmth.

It’s been fascinating to watch Marco this Christmas. It’s like he’s seeing the holidays for the first time.

“I’m ready.”

But I see a little discomfort in his expression.

I don’t think it’s from Christmas. It could be that he’s still recovering from his gunshot wound.

Or maybe seeing everyone for the first time since his confrontation with Frank.

Or maybe even that he’s given up his bachelor ways, a surprise to everyone.

We walk into my childhood home, and I’m filled with happy memories of my life growing up here.

The same life of love and joy I want to give to Marco and our child.

The great room buzzes with conversation and laughter.

Dom Vitale stands near the fireplace, glass in hand, watching his cousin Elena chase after her triplets.

The three five-year-olds dart between guests.

"Rocco, slow down!" Elena calls as one of the boys nearly topples a tray of champagne flutes.

Her exasperation doesn't mask the adoration in her voice.

I feel a twinge of sadness for her. She didn’t get her happily ever after, whereas I have.

I spot Roman and Isabella across the room, little Angelica twirling in her Christmas dress beside them.

Isabella cradles baby Leo in her arms with her father, Don Ferraza, watching, looking every bit the proud grandpa.

“Do you see and feel everyone’s happiness?” I whisper to Marco.

“That was never in question.” He looks at me. “It was my happiness I didn’t feel, but I feel it now.”

I squeeze his hand, still wondering if this is all a fantastic dream.

"Gabriella!" My father's voice booms across the room as he spots us. We make our way through the room filled with La Corona families.

I hug him. “Merry Christmas.”

“You too,Tesoro.” He glances at my ring. "Both of you."

Marco steps forward to shake my father's hand, and I notice the subtle shift in their dynamic. There's a new respect between them, not just as Don to Don, but as father to future son-in-law.

"Merry Christmas, Antonio," Marco says, his voice warm.

My father claps him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family, officially."

“Here’s to Marco, alive and well, although why aren’t you hiding in the corner?” Dom says, holding up his champagne to toast. “I’ve never known you to be social.”

“You’re more interesting this year,” Marco quips, earning laughter from the crowd.

A commotion at the entrance draws our attention, and my heart leaps when I see who's arrived.