Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Epilogue

MACI

SIX MONTHS LATER

If home is where the heart is, then the home that Tiziano has made for me is where heaven is. Saturday mornings are by far my most favorite moments of the entire week. Tiziano and I have created a bit of a routine for ourselves and I can’t deny that I love every single moment.

Our new home is almost completely unpacked, a surprise by Tiziano. He bought an actual house. Not an apartment, not a townhouse or a condo, but a house with a yard.

We moved in two weeks ago and I’ll never leave. I’ll die in his little house, probably because it’s the first time I’ve ever lived anywhere like this and the first time I’ve been able to call something mine.

When Tiziano said that we were building a partnership, he meant every single word. My name is even on the home’s deed. My name. My full name. Maci Marie Marshall Bianchi. Yes, my name is ridiculously Maci Marie, I never claimed to come from inventive or even semi-smart parents.

Stretching, I turn to face Tiziano as I slowly open my eyes. Saturday mornings are my absolute favorite because Tiziano stays in bed, no matter what, until I wake up. I have a feeling that this will be one of my last Saturday’s lazing around. Soon my mornings will be full of feedings and diaper changes—I can’t wait.

“Good morning, zuccherino,” he murmurs, opening one eye as he turns to look over at me.

“Good morning, husband. You got in late last night,” I point out.

He hums, reaching out to place his palm against my belly. He grunts. “She is moving this morning.”

“She is, not much though. She’s running out of room.”

He watches me for a moment, his hand unmoving from my belly. “I think the men finally understand that I am in charge.”

“Do I want to know?” I ask.

He shakes his head once. “No, you probably do not.”

“Then I won’t ask.”

His lips curve up into a grin. “It’s a good idea. What do my girls want for breakfast this morning?” he asks.

It’s my turn to smile, and I do, widely. Because I can only think of one thing I want right now, and it’s not food. I’m limited in positions right now, so I climb on top of my husband, straddling his hips, tugging my short nightgown up slightly.

He shakes his head as he sits up, reaching forward and gripping my ass as he scoots both of us backward until his back is leaning against the headboard. He leans forward slightly, his lips touching mine.

I moan as soon as his tongue slides inside of my mouth, shifting my hips as I search for what I craves—him. I can feel his length harden beneath me and I want nothing more than to have him inside of me—stretching me.

“Zuccherino,” Tiziano moans as his hands move to my hips and he grips me tightly. His fingers dig into my flesh, no doubt bruising me.

Lifting myself slightly, I continue to kiss him, to feel his tongue against my own. When the head of his length aligns with my center, I waste no time in sinking down, taking all of him inside of me. Ripping my lips from his, I grab his shoulders, my gaze focused on his—I ride.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

Moving my hips, I grind down, bucking, jerking and rolling against him as I search for my release. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall backward as I continue to move. Tiziano’s mouth touches the center of my throat, his tongue tastes my skin and goose bumps break out all over my body.

When I feel his thumb against my clit, it’s the little bit I need to fall over the edge. Lifting my head with a gasp, I come as I stare into his eyes. He grins, his eyes almost twinkle as he looks back at me. He holds me still, though I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, all of the muscles in my body are tense and clenched.

He lifts his hips, keeping my body still as he fucks me. My breasts bounce with each thrust of his hips. I grip his shoulders tighter, biting my bottom lip as I watch him. His jaw is clenched, his eyes still sparkling until he pulls me down and roars with his release.

Tiziano slides his arms around my back and pulls me against his chest as much as he can, my belly getting very much in the way, but I don’t care. Burying my face against his neck I try to catch my breath.

“Fuck, Maci. Why is it better each and every time?” he asks, but I know he isn’t expecting an answer.

Lifting my head, I look into his eyes. “For me, it’s because I fall deeper in love with you every single time.”

His lips curve up into a small smile as he watches me. “Yeah, that could be it, zuccherino.”

I open my mouth to ask him what he wants to eat for breakfast, food-wise, when the doorbell rings.

“What the fuck,” he whispers.

Climbing off of him, I watch as he slips out of bed, pulling on a pair of slacks from the floor, no doubt discarded after coming home late last night. Making my way to the bathroom, I clean up, then find the same silk robe that I confiscated from him months ago and slip it on before I head downstairs after him.

Tiziano is at the front door, it’s open, but he hasn’t let whoever is on the other side in. He’s standing in front and the way his legs are wide and his back is ramrod straight it makes me think that he won’t be letting that other person inside, ever.

I hear a voice on the other side of the door say my name and my entire body freezes. I recognize that voice. I never thought I would hear it again. My cheeks heat at the sound of it, thinking back to just how embarrassing I allowed myself to be all those months ago with him.

“Look, I’m just here to make sure she’s okay. I came to the city on a run for Santoro and thought I would check in on her. I ain’t leavin’ until I know she’s okay,” he barks.

Tiziano snorts and I have a feeling this standoff could get ugly if I let it. I don’t. Forcing my feet to move, I swiftly walk up to Tiziano and stand at his side. I can’t really slide my way past him, I’m way too far along to attempt to do any of that.

Thankfully, Tiziano steps to the side and allows me to see the man standing on the other side of the door. My eyes widen at the sight of him, but his quadruple in size at the sight of me.

“I guess I don’t need to make sure you’re okay,” he murmurs.

“Bones,” I exhale.

His lips curve up into a grin and he shakes his head once. “I was worried, after the way we left things, I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looks like you are.”

“I am,” I admit.

He nods his head once, then turns away, taking one step before he stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “You’re happy?” he asks.

“I am,” I whisper.

He smiles, nods, then turns away. I watch him walk to his bike, both of us in silence. He climbs on, looks toward me one last time before he jerks his chin, starts his engine and roars down the road.

“That the man who gave you up?”

“Bones,” I clarify as I turn to Tiziano. Tilting my head back, I look up into my husband’s eyes.

He watches me for a moment and I can tell that he has a question on the tip of his tongue. I think that he isn’t going to ask it, but he finally does.

“You regret coming to me?”

“Not a single moment. Never,” I whisper. He grins, dipping his chin. He touches his mouth to mine and I let out a sigh as his tongue slides along my bottom lip. “I love you, Tiziano.”

“Love you, too, zuccherino. Let’s get you fed, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh.

ONE YEAR LATER

TIZIANO

It only took almosttwo years for them to come and visit. One thing kept them away, then another, and another. Famiglia life, it happens. I watch as the private plane lands and five men emerge.

Di Stefano, Elio, Duran, Calvino, and Aldo.

Five men who were only part of my life for a short time, but five men who were a major part of the man that I am today.

Smiling, I jerk my chin in their direction. My driver is already collecting their luggage as they make their way toward me. Pushing off of the side of the car, I try to contain my excitement as I walk toward them, meeting them halfway between the plane and the car.

“Why does it feel as if it’s been a lifetime?” I ask, reaching out and shaking each one of their hands.

I’m met with cheek kisses and back slaps. Clearing my throat, I take a step back and look at them, really look at them. Di Stefano still feels as if his power, his confidence oozes from him. The other men have changed, but all for the better. Except Elio who looks as though he’s been through some shit, he looks harder than he did almost two years ago.

We’ll talk, alone, me and Elio. No way in fuck am I going to let him get back on that plane without telling me why he looks as if he’s lived a thousand lifetimes in two years.

“Tonight, we relax and drink wine. Tomorrow we party. The casino will be ready for you, though I don’t know if it can handle all of you together,” I say with a laugh.

They all chuckle and follow me to the car. I’m excited for them to officially meet Maci and our baby. Without these men, my life as I know it would not have been possible. I doubt I would have ever had the courage to not only stand up to my father, but to not stand down.

I wouldn’t have been able to become the boss that I am today, not without Di Stefano and Elio’s guidance. They’ve always both been just a phone call away, and now it’s my turn to thank them the only way that I know how—to celebrate them.

The best and only way that I know how to celebrate is with food, booze, and women.

Once we’re settled in the car, the driver takes us toward my house. The conversation is light, but I’m good with that. Nothing heavy on day one.

“You’re all welcome to stay at my place, but if you don’t want to, I won’t be offended. There is housing for guests at one of the buildings near the casino. I can have the driver take you there tonight.”

“We’ll give your family their space, Tiziano,” Di Stefano announces. I figured that’s exactly what he would say. I’m not offended in the slightest.

When we finally arrive home, I smile at the meal that Maci has set out for us. When we met, she didn’t know how to cook even something from a box. Now, she creates magnificent meals and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

Opening the front door, Caterina is the first to meet me. She’s trying to make her way toward me, but stumbles and falls, then looks up at me with the biggest pouty lips and watery eyes. Laughing softly, I scoop her up in my arms and blow kisses against her neck.

Turning to the men, I introduce them to my little companion.

“She looks exactly like you,” Di Stefano says.

“Poor baby.” Calvino chuckles.

Shaking my head, I bring them outside on the back patio where the meal is all set up and Maci is placing a platter in the middle of the table. She lifts her head, smiling as she brushes her hands together and hurries toward us.

The rest of the evening is spent exactly how I wanted it to be spent. We drink, we eat, and we converse. I feel as though I’m back in Italy two years ago, as if nothing has changed. Except, I’m much happier now.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happened?” I ask Elio when the conversation becomes hectic around us between the men.

“Does it matter?” Elio asks.

Arching a brow, I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

“The woman I was engaged to left me when she discovered I was a Made Man. She couldn’t handle the life.”

“You didn’t choose someone in the life?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Met her at a bar. Saw her and fell for her instantly. Never planned on more than a few nights of fun.” He chuckles.

“Someone is out there,” I say softly.

Nodding, he clears his throat. “Doubtful. But I’ll never be able to move up if I don’t marry someone.”

“And you want to?”

“I do.”

“Maybe we can work on that here. Gavino has been doing a few contracts here and there. He is just finishing one for his consigliere.”

Elio nods and thanks me, but I can tell that his thoughts are a million miles away. I shift my gaze to Maci, my own thoughts taking over, my thoughts of the happiness that I am consumed with. Though happy isn’t the word to describe it, I’m more than that, I always have been when it comes to Maci.

I watch my wife, cradling my daughter in her arms, growing my new baby inside of her, and I can’t believe that this is real.

This life is mine.

It’s really all mine.

I betrayed and killed my father among too many others to even count. I’ve done some seriously fucking bad shit in my life. I am the last person who deserves all of the beauty that I have with this woman, but I’m also the first person to admit that I don’t deserve it at all.

Maybe that’s why I’m able to keep her, because I know without a doubt that I don’t deserve an ounce of the beauty she gives me on a daily basis.