“Like I can run a marathon,” I reply, winking at her. She doesn’t find the humor in my response, so I say, “Like I’ve been shot and have the most beautiful girl’s blood running through my veins.”
That earns me a small smile.
“That’s better,” I add. “I love it when you smile.” I pause and may face grows somber as I continue. “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry I ever took that smile away.
That I ever made her shed a single tear.
“I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I add. “But I’m not sorry for loving you.”
“Does that mean you still do?”
I hate that she even feels the need to ask me that question.
“I never stopped,” I say, struggling to sit up. She starts to argue, but I shake my head and push through the pain, bringing our eyes level with one another. “It was never a question of whether I loved you or not and that’s why I was completely honest with you when I ended things.”
“I know that, but part of me wondered if that love faded while we were apart.”
“Bug, I don’t know if you realize it yet, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life helping you understand that this love I feel for you doesn’t fade. If anything, it just intensifies. It’s the most powerful thing in my life and that says a lot.”
“I’m going to need that in writing for the next time you try and break up with me. Like a sworn affidavit or something.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yes, if we ever get out of here, the first thing we’re doing is finding a notary.”
“What about a judge?”
“Lawyers can get expensive and I’m pretty sure I’m unemployed.”
“Don’t need a lawyer to get a marriage certificate.”
The playful smile falls from her face and she releases my hand.
“You’re not serious,” she accuses. “It’s the morphine.”
“I’m dead serious,” I volley, and she flinches at my choice of words. “No pun intended,” I add, taking back her hand. “And it’s not the drugs talking.” I point to my chest, to where the gauze covers my wound. “I’m talking from my heart. I want to marry you, Violet Cabrera. I want to make a life with you. I want you to be the mother of my children and I want to hold your hand as we grow old. I know I’m not the best man for you, that I’ve made bad choices that will ultimately shape our life together, but if you give me a shot, I’ll make it my life’s mission to make you happy. To keep you safe. But most of all to make you feel my love. No more excuses. No more—”
“Yes,” she cries.
“Yes, what? I didn’t ask you anything,” I tease.
She squeezes my hand.
“Then maybe you should.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
Tears stream down her cheeks as the brightest smile fills her face and I safely lock the memory away for when I really do come to the end of my life.
“Think we can seal the deal with a kiss? I promise not to bleed out.”
Laughter fills my ears as she carefully leans over to press her lips to mine and just like that, I feel whole.
Complete.
It’s not power that makes a man.
It’s heart.
It’s the love of a good woman.
It’s finding your grace.
Epilogue
Violet Cabrera
Sprawled out on a lounge chair, the sun kisses my skin as I watch Rocco inspect a fig tree. Yes, you read that correctly. The guy who went from sweatpants to designer suits, stands in a field wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a wifebeater tank, picking figs off a tree. Figs that he’ll pair with prosciutto and drizzle balsamic glaze over.
It’s become quite the afternoon delight—amongst other things—since we left the Hamptons and chartered a private plane to take us to Sicily. Extreme, I know, but nonetheless necessary. We couldn’t hide out there forever, but until the man who shot Rocco was neutralized, we needed to stay off the grid.
With Rocco and I out of the picture, this left Jack Parrish as the man who would ultimately take down the Russian gangster looking to put them both out of commission. It also allowed Rocco to clear his name with the Sicilian mafia and strengthen his relationships with the capos.
The mob will always be part of our lives, but Rocco will never let it be our whole life. Just like dance will be too. My chance at becoming prima ballerina is gone, but I have a bigger role I’m preparing for.
About six months after we arrived in Italy, a month after we were married, I took a pregnancy test. Our little girl is due to arrive in just three months and hopefully, Joaquin will be able to fly in for her birth, but I’m not banking on it. He’s busy keeping Victor’s organization alive and thriving in the streets of New York. But I have no doubt that when we can finally go back home, our little girl will be spoiled by her uncle.
Her Aunt Gina already got a head start seeing as just last week a pair of baby Louboutins arrived and you can guess who bought our little girl her first pair of red bottoms.
A hand touches my belly and I open my eyes. Starring at my husband through the darkened lens of my sunglasses, I smile up at him.
“You’re blocking my sun, Spinelli.”
He laughs and bends to press a kiss to my lips.
“Do you have sunblock on that belly?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Of course.”
He gives my lips another peck and inches back.
“Have I told you how much I love you today?”
“I don’t remember, maybe you should tell me again…you know just to be sure.”
He grins at me.
“I love you, Bug.”
As much as our lives have changed, his ridiculous nickname for me hasn’t. And I’ll let you in on a little secret—I love it. So much so that when I’m talking to our daughter, I often catch myself calling her Bug too.
THE END
Also by Janine Infante Bosco
The Tempted Series
Illicit Temptations
Forbidden Temptations
Uncontrollable Temptations
Reckless Temptations
Lethal Temptations
Eternal Temptations
The Nomad Series: Satan’s Knights MC
Drifter
Wanderer
Roamer
Loner
The Satan’s Knights Transition Of Power Series
From The Ruins
The Devil Don’t Sleep
Riding The Edge
Parrish
The Leather & Lace Duet (Satan’s Knights MC)
Blackout, Book One
Blackout, Book Two
Satan’s Knights Novella
Rite Of Passage
The Satan’s Knights Prospect Trilogy
Shifting Gears
Breaking The Chains
Walking The Line
A Satan’s Knights & Tempted Series Novella
Detours & Dead Ends
The Tempted Series 2.0
Fight Or Flight
Ride Or Die
Below The Belt