Page 141 of Faking it with the Mafia Protector
Matteo has made it clear that Harper is lucky to be alive. Betrayal in his world usually ends with a body in the desert. The only reason Lorenzo let her walk away is because she technically betrayedme, not the Andrettis, and because she was under duress.
Also, I suspect, because Matteo asked.
He hasn’t admitted it. But I know him. He protects what’s his, and that includes my dysfunctional extended family.
The rest of my family is just happy everyone survived. My parents stopped giving me a hard time about keeping Viktor’s harassment secret, though I catch Dad watching me sometimes with that worried crease between his eyebrows.
They’ll probably always worry about me. That’s okay.
It’s how I know I’m loved.
We reach the wooden stairs leading up to our beach house, and I pause, turning to face Matteo. The sun is starting to set behind him, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.
“Are you happy, Sunshine?”
“I am.” I lean into him, pressing my cheek against his chest. I feel him breathe, slow and even. “Are you?”
He lifts our joined hands and presses his lips to my knuckles. The gesture is so gentle that it makes my eyes sting.
“I didn’t know I could feel like this,” he says. “And that’s because of you.”
I squeeze his hand, my heart too full for words. So much is falling into place.
The flower shop, for one. The lease is signed. The renovations start next month. All the money I’ve been saving for years is finally going toward my dream, and Matteo has made it clear he’ll support me however I need.
I think he’s also relieved I won’t be bartending anymore, surrounded by men who check me out and try to flirt.
His possessive streak still makes me warm in all the right places.
I look up at him, this man who’s given me so much without even realizing it. There’s one more thing I want to give him.
“I have something to tell you,” I say.
He goes still. I can feel the tension gathering in his shoulders, the way he braces himself for bad news. It breaks my heart a little, that his first instinct is still to prepare for the worst.
I take his hand and press it flat against my stomach.
Still flat. Nothing to see yet.
But there will be.
His eyes drop to where our hands rest against me, then rise to meet mine. The confusion clears slowly, replaced by something raw and wondering.
“Sierra...”
“You’re going to be a father.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I found out last week, and I wanted to wait until today to tell you, because I wanted you to know that this is what I want. You. Our life together. And now, this.”
For a long moment, he doesn’t speak. His throat moves as he swallows hard.
Then his forehead drops to mine, and I feel the shudder that runs through his whole body.
“I didn’t think I could be happier than I was five minutes ago,” he admits roughly. “I was wrong.”
He pulls me into his arms and lifts me right off my feet, and I laugh as the wind catches my veil again and sends it streaming behind me like a banner.
When he sets me down, he kisses me. Deep and thorough and full of promise.
“I love you,” he says against my mouth. “Both of you.”
I grab the lapels of his tuxedo and pull him closer.
“Take me inside,” I whisper. “I want to start our honeymoon now.”
His laugh is quiet and warm, the sound still rare enough to feel like a gift.
Then my husband scoops me up and carries me over the threshold, and everything is exactly as it should be.
