Chapter 16

Sixteen

Romeo – Two Weeks Later

I sigh as I put my jacket on, my stitches pulling a little.

The fuckers are just annoying at this point, and God help me if I tear them, and my wife has already made me fucking pay….

Ray was pissed when he realized I got hurt and even more pissed when my traitor of a wife told him she was the one who stitched me up.

She called him after our heart-to-heart, ripping into him for not keeping me safe, but she was still nice enough to give him the brownies she had made before he stormed into my office to give me a lecture, demanding to see the wound.

When I expressed the knife didn't go that deep, the fucker's face went so fucking red I thought he was going to blow.

My wife wasn't done with her punishments though, because not long later, my fucking parents and brothers came in, guns blazing.

"Fucking worrywarts," I mutter under my breath as I grab my phone, putting it in my suit jacket. Antonio was only panicking because he doesn't want to be Don, and Leonardo, well, he knows my wife has lost faith in their friendship after he took his anger out on her, not happy El told Holly about who he really is. Which means he also knows I'm the only person holding my wife back from killing him for what he's doing to Holly, although it helps that Holly keeps playing tricks on him when he leaves during the day.

Last week, she'd cut holes in the crotch in all his pants, the next day, she dyed all his clothes bright pink.

Fucker still won't let her go, though. He mumbled yesterday about finding a priest, not that my wife knows. When he tried to speak to her regarding it, she walked away from him, and the fucker had heartbreak written over his face.

"Dammit!" I hear snapped loudly from down the hallway, and I smirk, my eyes going to the light blue maternity dress on the bed.

Now, if my wife moved back into our room, she would have seen it and wouldn't be trying to find a dress to fit her for tonight's mandatory meal that I know for a fact she doesn’t want to attend.

The woman is still stubborn, she still won’t speak to her parents, and is refusing to use the credit card I ordered for her. This morning, I heard her mumble to Holly over the phone that she doesn't get paid for two more days and has already used her wages on baby things.

That fucking pissed me off. I called an interior decorator and hired them to decorate the room next to ours for a nursery.

It's time my wife started relying on me.

I hear her curse again, which makes me chuckle. I grab the dress, and walk out of our room to the guest room she's occupying.

The last two weeks haven't been easy. Over the years, I've given my wife a lot of trust issues, and I know it's going to take more than two weeks for her to forgive and trust me, but she's letting me in. She's trying.

I take her to work, I show up for lunch, much to that fucker Damian’s dismay, and I pick her up, where I proceed to spoil her.

Last weekend, we traveled to the Hamptons, walked along the beach, and watched the sunset.

It was fucking perfect; she was perfect.

When I reach the room and lean against the doorframe, I grin at the vision before me. A want to laugh when she starts to jump, but I hold it in, valuing my balls.

"Come on, come on, come on." She growls, "You fit yesterday. Seriously, come the fuck on…."

I smirk and ask, "Do you kiss your husband with that potty mouth?" making her jump, turning my way.

She narrows her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. The black dress she's trying to fit into is tight around her bump.

She glares. "This is your fault, Rome!"

I shrug, not at all sorry, as I hold the light blue maternity dress up by the thick straps, and her mouth opens a little.

"I thought you may like this," I murmur, my eyes taking in her form, lingering on her larger, suck-worthy tits.

My cock swells, and I will it to go down.

I'm fucking sexually frustrated, and yeah, I fucking regret telling her no sex until she's back in our bed.

Her eyes tear up, making me chuckle as she drops her hands. I walk over to her, placing the dress on the bed. My eyes catch my shirt folded neatly on the pillow. It’s the one I wore yesterday, which makes my hope build.

If she's wearing the shirts I've worn, then surely she's wanting to forgive me, right?

Smiling, I gently take her face in my hands, pressing my lips against hers before I rasp, "If you'd just move back into our room, you'd notice a closet full of maternity clothes."

She snorts, a few tears falling, and I quickly wipe them away before stepping back and bring my hands to her shoulders. I grip the black dress, pulling it down. Her heavy tits pop out, making my mouth water, and I can't help myself. I take a peaked nipple into my mouth, gently biting it, making her gasp.

I go to her other, giving it the same treatment, before kneeling, dragging the dress over her sixteen-week bump.

I smile and gently kiss it, murmuring, "Papa loves you…."

I hear my woman sniffle, making me smile, as I kiss her bump again, then bring the dress down to the floor as my lips go to her laced-covered cunt, gently kissing her there, inhaling her smell.

She inhales sharply as I stand with a smirk. Seeing exactly what I'm doing, she narrows her eyes but softens when I cup her bump.

"I hope we're having a girl that looks just like you," I admit, and her tears fall again, making me grin.

Her hormones are all over the place lately.

Being an ass, I gently pull her on sensitive nipples and ask, "You ready to give in yet?"

"You wish," she replies with narrowed eyes, her cheeks filled with a blush, making me laugh. I then kiss her lightly before grabbing the dress off the bed.

Kneeling before her, the only person I have ever kneeled for, I hold the dress open. She steps into it before I slowly glide it up her body, her arms going into the straps. Smiling, I gently turn her in my arms and glide the zipper up, holding her hair to the side before kissing her neck lightly.

"I miss you, El…" I whisper against her skin.

"I just need time, Rome…" she replies, and I nod, knowing this already.

She admits, "I've stopped looking for apartments."

Everything in me relaxes, and I wrap my arms around her waist, cupping her bump from behind, holding her tight.

"Thank you, farfalla …." I choke, trying to hold in the emotions wanting to come out knowing one fight is done with….

She's quiet for a few minutes, allowing me to hold her before she mutters, "I don't want to go…."

I sigh, pressing my lips to her neck and whisper, "I know, baby, but you haven't seen your parents since you were shot."

She scoffs, "Thanks for that little reminder, Rome."

I snort. "Sorry, baby, but it's true. Let's just get it over with, and if you want to leave after thirty minutes, then we'll leave."

She sighs but nods, walking out of my hold and instantly I miss her heat, but I don't pull her back, instead I put my hands in my pockets and watch as she grabs her choker, putting it on, making me smile, grateful she never threw it away.

She grabs the necklace her mamma gave her, puts it on next, and then walks to the closet. She disappears for a few seconds before coming out with white-heeled pumps.

I smile wide. "You look perfect."

She blushes, which shows well on her makeup-free face; she’s only wearing a little mascara.

Fuck, how did I get so lucky?

I hold my hand out to her, and hold my breath. She looks at it hesitantly, her eyes on my wedding ring, before she walks over.

I sigh in disappointment when she doesn't take my hand, knowing that seeing her family would take us ten fucking steps back, but I soon suck in a breath when she wraps her arm around my waist.

My left arm instantly goes over her shoulder, holding her close to me as my lips touch the top of her head.

"Thank you, farfalla ," I rasp, and guide her to the door. She doesn't say anything back, only buries herself deeper into my side.

This woman continues to fucking surprise me.

It takes us nearly an hour in New York traffic to get to our family restaurant. Mikhail believes El will be more comfortable there.

"We are not naming our child Romeo Junior," El says as we pull up in front of the restaurant, and I chuckle. " Farfalla , if Leonardo has his way, we'd be naming our child after him."

She chuckles, not showing distain at hearing his name, making me smile a little as the door opens. She sighs. "Let's get this over with…."

I nod, grabbing her hand and giving it a squeeze. She looks at me, and I rasp, "Isabella, for a girl. It’s my mamma's middle name."

Her eyes tear up again, and she nods, making me smile as I climb out first, buttoning my suit jacket up as my name is shouted by the press, who were most likely called by Liliya. I hold my hand out for my wife, who takes it instantly.

Flashes from cameras start to go crazy as my wife climbs out, her bump in view.

"Mrs. Russo, is it true you are pregnant?" one asks, the others following suit, but we ignore them as I wrap my arm around her shoulders, keeping her close, and not even letting her go when we enter the restaurant.

I guide her to the back of the room where her family awaits.

Mikhail spots us first as he booms, "Well, it's about time you two got here!" causing everyone to look our way.

I snort. "We would have been here sooner, but someone is stubborn and doesn't like to spend our money on new clothes."

Anastasia chuckles. "My daughter isn't one to buy new clothes; she never has been, but it explains how she's wearing that beautiful off-the-rack dress that's not even out yet." Her words trail off as her eyes go to the bump, and she gasps with a smile. "Oh my God, you're pregnant?" Everyone's eyes go to Elena’s belly in shock.

Her Aunt Agy scowls while Liliya's face goes red, and me, well, I just grin like the fucker I am because, yes, she is fucking pregnant.