Epilogue

Five years had passed.

Gen rested her elbows on the kitchen island, idly picking at the last croissant left from breakfast. The morning news played softly on the television, showing a recap of the Royale event from the night before. A warm smile spread across her face as her family appeared on the screen—four of them beaming, waving to the cameras as they made their way up the red carpet. From down the hallway, she could hear the familiar sounds of her household coming to life.

Matteo was busy trying to settle Elisa for her nap, while simultaneously keeping Antonio from stirring up more mischief. Glancing around, Gen took in the aftermath of their breakfast chaos. Jelly was smeared messily across the kitchen island, crumbs scattered across the floor, and a thin dusting of flour coated the counter behind her—a telltale sign of the early morning baking session Matteo and Antonio had started while the ladies slept in.

The news switched to a sports update, prompting Gen to finally get up and tackle the pile of dishes. Laughter echoed from the hallway, filling her with a deep, unexplainable joy. Sundays were sacred to her—no work, no errands, no obligations—just time devoted to family, the four of them together in their home. As she began to clean, her thoughts drifted toward the busy week ahead.

Gen had an important meeting scheduled with Charlotte to discuss another expansion of their company in Atlanta, with Lauren leading the charge. After the turmoil five years ago, Matteo had persuaded her to open a new branch of their accounting firm in New York. She agreed, on the condition that she could manage the business from the same building that housed Accardi Industries. Since then, Gen had taken on several multi-million-dollar clients, including Conor’s rapidly growing security firm and Emmett O’Brien’s new tech startup. She had also promoted Kaitlin to Office Administrator, and had been honored to serve as Kaitlin’s matron of honor just last year when she married Alexander.

Behind the scenes, Gen quietly assisted Matteo with managing the family’s less-than-legal finances—though only a trusted few, like Frankie, Louis, and Leo, were aware of that part of their lives. Matteo had become extremely cautious about who was brought into their inner circle ever since the day they met. His protectiveness had only grown stronger with time.

But at the top of her to-do list this week wasn’t just business—it was the Royale. Contracts needed reviewing, interviews with prospective women had to be conducted, and eager businessmen were already lining up, desperate for their chance at the auction’s prizes. Her days would be a whirlwind of balancing numbers and soothing disgruntled mafia men who didn’t get their way. Still, she wasn’t worried. Matteo had made sure everyone from New York to beyond knew the Accardi family was untouchable. He had kept his promise. She was safe with him. All of them were.

Suddenly, firm, calloused hands slid around her waist, and Gen realized the apartment had fallen quiet. She placed her hands on the edge of the counter as Matteo’s lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her shoulder and sending a shiver of heat rushing down her spine and swirling in her stomach. His right hand slipped inside her robe, effortlessly loosening the knot. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, and she let her head fall back against his shoulder, surrendering to the sensation as his touch deepened.

Her hand reached up, locking behind his neck as he slowly pulled her panties down. He pressed her forward, and she released her hold, allowing him to lower his sweatpants just enough. In one smooth motion, his hard length slid between her folds and entered her. Gen breathed in sharply but held back any sound. Both of them remained silent, lost in the moment. She leaned forward, her arms becoming dusted with flour as he moved slowly inside her. His hands gripped her waist, restrained yet eager, knowing that if he quickened the pace, she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet much longer.

His breathing grew shallow as her fingers sought purchase, desperate to hold on while he tried to bring them both to a swift climax. Their brief escapade in the bathroom at the Royale—a cheeky tradition they shared—had done nothing to diminish the burning desire they felt for each other, especially after seeing one another dressed in their finest attire. She pictured him as he had looked the night before: tuxedo slightly disheveled, bow tie crooked, pants around his ankles on the bathroom floor. She remembered the playful mess—flour dusting his cheeks from Antonio’s earlier antics, the boy flinging it into the air with gleeful shouts of joy. Her pussy clenched at the memory of Matteo’s gentle smile as he tried to teach their son not to do something without a clear explanation.

“Oh, fuck,” Matteo whispered behind her.

He thrust into her with increasing urgency, her muscles tightening around him. After a dozen more strokes, he stopped. Her orgasm washed over her as his release filled her. It wasn’t earth-shattering or loud, but instead familiar and comforting—an intimate moment only possible between two people who knew every inch of each other’s bodies and could play them with ease, even in stolen minutes.

Matteo pulled free and adjusted her panties just as Antonio’s socked feet pounded down the hallway. Matteo kissed her shoulder before stepping back, pretending he had been helping tidy the kitchen rather than making her tremble with pleasure.

“Daddy, daddy!” Antonio called out excitedly. “I read Elisa a story and she fell right asleep!”

Antonio ran into Matteo’s arms, who scooped him up and spun him around as he always did. “That’s my boy. Such a good big brother. Thank you, buddy.”

“Mommy!” Antonio added. “I did just what you asked. I helped Daddy put Elisa to bed.”

“I heard, sweetheart. Thank you so much. Do you want to watch some TV while we wait for your uncles and aunties to arrive?”

“Yeah!”

Gen approached her husband with a playful look in her eyes. He hadn’t shaved yet this morning, and his hair was still dusted with flour. The five years that had passed had only enhanced his handsomeness, if that were even possible. A single streak of gray ran through his hair, lending him a refined, distinguished air.

Matteo’s golden-green eyes darkened with desire as he licked his lips, adjusting Antonio on his hip. “I thought I just finished helping Mommy with something.”

“If you help me with this, I’ll help you with something later tonight,” she teased, Antonio completely oblivious to the adult conversation unfolding.

“The kids are going to Grandpa’s tonight, remember?” he countered, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

“Exactly. And if you do this for me, maybe tonight can be extra special.”

“Daddy,” Antonio whined, tugging at Matteo’s collar.

“Just a moment, Nio. Mommy and I are negotiating,” Matteo said, setting Antonio down. “Go to the couch; I’ll be right there.”

“Okay!” Antonio said, dashing toward the living room.

Matteo took a few steps closer, trapping Gen against the counter. He placed both hands on either side of her and leaned in close. “What are your terms?” he asked.

“Turn on the TV, help me clean up, and get ready for everyone to come over,” she replied, crossing her arms.

Normally, they wouldn’t host guests on a Sunday, but her friends from Boston were visiting, so they’d made an exception. They were throwing a large potluck, inviting people from all parts of their intertwined lives. The apartment would soon be bursting with laughter, stories, and children of all ages.

“Hmmm,” Matteo murmured, kissing her shoulder. “And what do I get in return for all this help?”

“What do you want?”

“You know.”

“No, you need to say it.”

“We haven’t waved the white flag in a while,” he said, his smile so tempting she almost gave in.

Instead, she shook her head. “I was thinking of something else.”

“What’s that?”

She glanced toward the living room, where Antonio watched them over the back of the couch, patiently waiting for his dad to turn on his favorite show. “Elisa is almost two.”

“Yes, she is,” he agreed.

Gen waited, watching his reaction.

His eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

She nodded.

He smiled, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. She clung to his shoulders, the thought of growing their family setting her blood on fire. His tongue danced with hers, and she tightened her fingers in his hair in response. Suddenly, small hands tugged at her robe, and moments later, Antonio squeezed himself between them. He pushed against Matteo’s thighs until his father reluctantly stepped back. As soon as he did, Antonio spun around and raised his arms, signaling for Gen to pick him up. She shook her head and lifted her too-large son, who shot his dad a playful glare.

“Well?” Gen asked, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted Antonio on her hip. “Do you accept my terms or not?”

Matteo feigned a look of annoyed jealousy at his son. “Fine,” he agreed, turning toward the living room. Antonio squirmed until Gen set him down so he could race after his father. “But tomorrow, after our meeting,” Matteo added, picking up the remote and shooting Gen a pointed look, “we’re waving the white flag.”

“White flag? Are we playing capture the flag tomorrow, Daddy?” Antonio asked, settling onto the couch.

Matteo chuckled. “No, we’re not playing capture the flag.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Nothing, bud. I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Matteo said, winking at Gen.

“No, you most certainly will not!” she called after him.

A moment later, the baby monitor lit up, signaling Elisa had woken. Gen sighed.

“Uh oh,” Antonio said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Mommy broke the rule. No yelling while Elisa is sleeping.”

“Yep, looks like she did,” Matteo said, shaking his head in the same way, proving to any outsider that they were perfect mirrors of one another. He set the remote down and headed down the hall to help their daughter back to sleep. “Looks like Mommy’s going to get a spankin’ tonight too,” he called over his shoulder.

“Uh oh,” Antonio repeated, turning back to the TV. “It’s okay, Mommy. I won’t let Daddy spank you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Gen said, resting her elbows once more on the kitchen island so she could watch her firstborn laugh at the antics of a cartoon dog, forgetting Matteo’s playful threats and all the dangers lurking beyond their walls. Today was Sunday—a day for family, for them. And she hoped for a thousand more like it.