Epilogue

MY FAMILY ARRIVES AT our home en masse , and as soon as everyone finds a seat, Lorenzo doesn't waste any time playing the video file saved in the memory card I got from Viktor.

The CCTV footage is obviously taken from an underground gambling den, and a tall, dark-haired man has just come up to the cash cage with a tray of chips.

"The date stamp is four months ago," Cesare observes broodingly.

This means Giancarlo isn't yet missing...but the thought only makes me feel even more nauseous for some reason, and I realize why as a conversation takes place between the money handler and the man waiting for his payout.

He's one of them, I think sickly.

The audio is faint but discernible, and every word is absolutely damning.

Whoever this man is, he's bragging about a chopper engine he's successfully tampered with. He's good as admitted to being involved in a plot to have my eldest brother killed, and when the camera zooms in on the receipt the man has to sign before receiving his payout—-

LA

It's the initials the man has scribbled down, and I realize right away it's no coincidence that the man's profile bears a striking similarity to my husband's build.

But what I don't get is why .

"He was like a brother to all of us," I whisper. "Why would Viktor want Giancarlo killed? And why choose to frame Lorenzo for it?"

"Because he wasn't lying when he said he loved you," my husband says flatly.

I'm about to protest and say he's gotten it all wrong...until I see in everyone's eyes that it's the other way around.

"I've just received word from immigration," Ezio informs us curtly. He's taken over Giancarlo's responsibilities when it comes to the security of our famiglia. He's exceptionally good at it, too, but none of us, Ezio included, feels right about him doing something that used to be our eldest brother's role.

(Come back, Giancarlo, please!)

"Viktor's already on a flight en route to the Carribean. He knows we're on to him."

The islands are Bianciardi territory. There's no way we'll be able to bring him to justice from there.

"So what now?" Sarica asks.

I can't help but feel uneasy at how quiet her tone is. She's almost always easy to read, but nothing ever good happens on the few times she isn't.

"We do as we always do." My grandmother's voice is tightly controlled, but it's her eyes that expose her pain. "We wait. We prepare. We pray. Giancarlo is not dead...and we will not stop until we find him."

AND SO LIFE GOES ON .

Because it's just like Nonna says, and each of us have our roles to play while waiting.

Preparing.

Praying.

(I miss you, Giancarlo.)

Summer comes to an end, and the leaves around me have started to change color.

It's my first autumn with the love of my life.

But it's also my first autumn without Giancarlo.

It's a bittersweet thought, but despite the rare flashes of fear and anguish, hope remains eternal.

Seasons come and go.

What was once lush and green would later wither and die before blossoming back into life in spring. There's always a time for everything, and there's not one second in our lives that's unplanned.

Every moment is precious.

Because once gone, it's not something you can ever have back.

And so for now...

Thank You, God.

I pull my knees up under my chin and just try to breathe and soak everything in.

The crisp afternoon breeze playing against my skin.

The woodsy scent of the trees that tower around me.

The tranquil sound of running water from a nearby brook.

Everything's a blessing.

Everything.

But some are greater blessings than others, and one such gift is him.

A smile curves over my lips as I watch my husband trek the winding path that leads up to where I'm currently resting. His powerful long-legged strides make it look quick and ridiculously easy, and Lorenzo's able to conquer in mere seconds what took me a good five minutes to traverse.

I look up as he looms over me, and I just can't help it.

If Hollywood has The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, my husband is The Prince Formerly Known as Beast—-

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

An exasperated expression crosses over my husband's gorgeous features. "We both know what you're thinking."

I can no longer keep myself from giggling even as my heart feels like it's about to explode with happiness. While I absolutely love how we're able to read each other's minds, what I love even more is how silence is no longer my husband's refuge.

"I love you, Renzo."

The words slip out unplanned, and as embarrassing as it is to admit, they tend to happen about twenty times a day. I can't seem to help it. There are just moments like this, and I only have to see him or even just think of him, and I have to say it.

"I love you so much."

Color darkens his high-boned cheeks as my husband stares at me, and I'm torn between despair and exasperation with myself.

I'm so sorry, God.

Because I'm clearly still a work in progress, with how a certain green-eyed monster starts looking around suspiciously as soon as I see my husband blush.

Lorenzo folds his length and sits next to me on the picnic blanket. Just being close to him makes my toes curl, but...it's not enough.

"I don't think I'll ever change," I say mournfully. Never ever have I imagined myself capable of such possessiveness and jealousy, and it's honestly starting to worry me.

"Is there something I can do?" Lorenzo asks seriously.

"Yes," I say just as seriously.

"Tell me."

"Be less perfect."

He stares at me.

Oh no.

"Please don't—-"

But it's too late.

My husband is still not used to people complimenting him, and so there it is again.

His cheeks have darkened with color, and I'm already gnashing my teeth at the mere thought of any other woman seeing how adorably cute my husband—-

Oh, thank goodness.

Because my husband knows that the best way to comfort me is by making me stop thinking.

And is there any other better way to stop one's brain from working than this?

My husband drags me on top of him as he falls on his elbows, and I'm already hitching my dress up to his waist as he rips my underwear off my legs.

RIP, Victoria's Secret.

Only twice worn.

Gone too soon.

My husband grasps my hips as he lifts me.

I slowly lower myself on his length.

Yes, oh, yes.

My eyes squeeze shut as we start moving in rhythm.

My head falls back as our bodies start rocking harder and faster against each other.

And as we come together, all I can do is look at him, and everything I want to say is reflected in my husband's beautiful green eyes.

I love you.

I love you.

Tomorrow will worry about itself.

Today, we choose to live.

We choose to trust.

We choose to love.

The End

Thank you for reading Her Dangerous Groom.

This is usually the part that I'd ask for your time to write a review or leave a quick rating. Those will always be helpful and much appreciated, but right now, I would truly love it if you could pray for me as well.

Just like the characters in my book, I'm currently facing challenges, but I remain steadfast and joyful in hoping for a resolution. (Matthew 6:34)

Some of you may have noticed how majority of my books are unavailable for sale.

But I have prayed about this, and so I'm at peace. (Philippians 4:6-7).

In the meantime, though, it would mean so much if any or every one of you could also pray that all such issues are resolved soon. Thank you so, so much!

Matthew 18:19-20 (Amplified Bible) "Again I say to you, that if two believers on earth agree [that is, are of one mind, in harmony] about anything that they ask [within the will of God], it will be done for them by My Father in heaven. 20For where two or three are gathered in My name [meeting together as My followers], I am there among them."

P.S. To end on a lighter note - can you guess which journal entries are written by the Beast of New York?