Epilogue

EPILOGUE

T wo years later

Amy

I sigh as the wind tugs at my hair. Beneath the large umbrella, Ben kicks out as though he wants the sun shining on him, too. He's sucking on his fingers, and I'm wondering if he's hungry already. I just fed him less than an hour ago.

Layla is laughing as Matteo chases her and Walter. Matteo catches her and swings her up into the air, tickling her while Walter barks at them both. Her shrieks of happiness bring a smile to my lips.

This is the dream I had long ago. Layla running, and playing, joyful and loud in green grass. That dream didn't have Matteo in it or her baby brother watching them. Sometimes dreams don't come true. And sometimes the real thing is better than a dream.

Eight years later

Amy

"Please, Matteo?" I plead with big eyes. "You said I could have anything I wanted for my anniversary present."

He sighs. "I thought you would say a week in Chicago or the Sargent that's up for auction next week."

"I know you've already put in a bid at Christie's for the Sargent. And you're not as sneaky as you think you are. Mom told me about the condo you bought for us in Chicago. Thank you. I'm glad we won't have to stay at a hotel anymore when we go."

We both have fallen in love with Chicago, not only for the art museum but also for all the things we can do and see in the city without it being as frantic as New York. The kids love the city, too. "But I don't want things. I just want you."

I run my hand down his chest. Ten years of marriage, and he's as gorgeous now as he was the day I met him. He's finally no longer one percent body fat. He doesn't have a soft middle or spare tire yet. He simply has an all-over softness over the hard muscle he hasn't lost.

Groaning, he catches my wrist. "You should be napping. Think of the baby."

Sensing his slowly crumbling resolve, I push off the robe I put on after my shower. I love the way his eyes go gold at me naked. I'm seven months pregnant and feel like a small whale most days—except when Matteo is looking at me.

A large hand goes over my stomach. Our son kicks in response. "You should definitely be sleeping."

I shake my head as I press into his touch. "I want five minutes to taste you with my tongue. Please, my gorgeous, generous husband."

He swears. "Fine. Five minutes." Throwing himself on the bed. He closes his eyes. "Your time starts now."

"Matteo, that's not fair. It shouldn't start until you're as naked as I am."

"Four minutes and fifty-two seconds remaining."

Crap, this man. I have to use the step stool to climb onto the bed. Normally, he would help me, but I know he's trying to lessen the time I have. Jerk.

I'm beside him on the bed, and to get back at him, both hands are at the bottom of the polo he's wearing, and push it up—followed by my tongue. I giggle as he mutters a curse word.

"When your time is up, I'm going to remember you laughing at my pain." Is gritted out.

"Ah, poor baby." I giggle as I find a flat male nipple and explore it with my tongue. How have we gone all these years, and I've only managed to do this once or twice? Those few times, I was sneaky, waking up before him. Except I only ever got a few licks and touches in before he was awake and taking over.

He's so dang bossy. The evil man plays my body with his tongue and his fingers, yet I'm only allowed his cock and his mouth.

I kiss my way down to his stomach, running my tongue over his appendectomy scar and hating the sight of him ever being cut open. I finally understand why he got so upset over seeing my cesarian scar. Ben's delivery wasn't any easier than Layla's. When I had Alyssa four years ago, my obstetrician planned a cesarian with the thought a delivery via cesarian was safer than a possible rupture of the scar if I attempted a regular delivery.

It's part of the reason why there's so much time between Alyssa and this pregnancy. Matteo hated the idea of another pregnancy resulting in a cesarian. I had to do a lot of begging before he gave in. Being loved by Matteo is a gift, I know, but there are times it can be maddening.

Running my face over his stomach, he swears, and I'm flipped on my back. "That wasn't five minutes," I whine.

"Let's try it again in another ten years." He breathes into my mouth.

"I'm holding you to it next time," I warn him.

Ten years later

Matteo

"You lied to me." Layla's eyes are knives cutting into me.

"We didn't lie to you. Matteo is your father. Danny never wanted to be." Amy argues.

"Bullshit. You didn't want him to be. You met a rich guy and dropped my father." Layla yells at her mother. Then she turns on me. "And you, you killed him."

What the fuck? "Look, I'm sorry you found out this way. But his brother is lying to you. I had nothing to do with his death. He beat your mother often, and the last time, he was going to hit you. Your mother left to protect you. It's the same reason I got him to sign away his rights to you—it was only to protect you from a very violent man who only cared about himself. All he wanted was money to sign away his rights, and I happily gave it to him."

"No, you threatened to kill him if he didn't sign. He was trying to stay alive. Then you killed him anyway. I hate you. I hate both of you." Before I can open my mouth to argue, she slams out of the room.

I pull Amy into my arms. She's shaking so badly, I wish like hell there was something more I could do. "We should have told her sooner."

Shaking my head, I run a hand up her back. "She'll calm down. And when she does, she'll figure out he was lying."

"You still have the recording of that day. Why didn't you tell her that?"

Sighing, "I didn't want her to hear it."

"Protecting her is only hurting us." Amy wipes her tears.

"Fine. When she comes back, if she won't listen—I'll play her the recording."

The timid knock on the door pulls us apart. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby, you can come in."

Alyssa's eyes are wide. "Is everything okay? Why was Layla yelling?"

"Go get your brothers. I don't want to repeat it." I sigh.

"We're telling them?" Amy's eyes are wide.

"They deserve to know. The same way we should have told Layla. Better we tell them than them find out on their own." I shake my head. "This was not the anniversary I planned for you to have."

Her hand comes down on my chest. "All I care about is that we're having another one. Twenty years with you…it's flown by, and I wouldn't have our lives any other way."

"Even if we might have lost Layla?" I allow the fear to escape me.

"We won't lose her. She had a shock to her system, that's all. She's a daddy's girl, after all. Finding out she wasn't yours biologically might not have been easy, but she'll come around."

I exhale slowly. "You're sure? Two minutes ago?—"

"Two minutes ago, she scared the shit out of me. But now that I can breathe, I can see it from her side. Dan's brother comes out of nowhere and spews a bunch of lies. You're right. We should have told her sooner. For the last twenty years, we didn't think of him or that she wasn't your biological daughter because, in every way, that mattered—you are her father. She can't erase twenty years, and she won't. We just have to give her time."

"I hope like hell you're right."

Three years later

Matteo

I finish reading the report and hand it to Amy so she can read it as well. Closing my eyes, I shake my head.

"Bratva? That's like a gangster isn't it?" Amy whispers.

Nodding, I sigh. "Russian mafia."

"Maybe he's not. Just because his father Milos is…maybe he's not."

"We can't let her marry him." I bite out the words.

Amy wipes the tears trailing down her cheeks. "We have to. If we try to stop her, we'll lose her again. She goes all these years without talking to us only to invite us to her wedding happening two days after she tells us. I wish like hell we never got the condo in Chicago and let her continue to live in it after she refused to come home."

"What if she doesn't know what his father is? What Victor is. She admitted she's only known him a few months." I search for a way to protect my daughter.

"I think she knows. I'm positive it's why she waited until the last minute to invite us to their wedding."

"So what, we're just supposed to smile and pretend we don't know our daughter is marrying into a family of criminals?" I fight the urge to be violent.

Shaking her head, her arms go around me. "Why does this feel like a bad dream? If we don't support her, we're going to lose her for good. If we do…"

"I won't lose her again. These three years without her were hell. All I care about is he protects her and treats her like the treasure she is. Maybe he loves her enough to do that." I hope like hell he does. "And if he doesn't, I'll make him pay."

My cell phone rings. It's the hangar. "The jet is ready. It's time to go to Chicago."

I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did please, please leave a review.

If this is the first book you've read the series starts with Rafael

The Castillo Family: Follow Rafael, Matteo, Javier and their nephew Santos. A billionaire family, they made their fortune in the construction business. But all their money can't help them when it comes to building relationships with women who want what money can't buy.

My twin brothers have never been little angels, but this time they might have gone too far in crossing Rafael Castillo. Rafael wants them punished to the furthest extent of the law for trespassing and destroying his company's construction site. I can't defend what they did, but I also can't let them go into juvenile detention. All I'm asking for is another chance. But the arrogant, gorgeous billionaire refuses and cuts me down without listening. So I might have started yelling, there might have been bitter accusations on both sides, and I might have lost it and cried. Then somehow I was in his arms.

The instant lust shocks us both. Yet while I'm more than willing to act on it, Rafael refuses. Until I lie and tell him all I want are the nights in my bedroom. No commitment, no strings, just sex. All too soon, it's not enough; but will we ever make it out of the bedroom, or are we doomed to fail?