Page 90 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

I lean into him. The alcove is quiet. Down the corridor, glass crunches under boots and the Red Letter men work to put order back to their building.

"I never thought I would fall in love with a wicked mafia sinner." I smile against his chest, his heartbeat slowing under my cheek. "But here I am. Planning a life full of sunshine to make sure the darkness can't win for either of us."

Rowan’s arms tighten around me. His chin rests on the top of my head. His heart beats steady under my ear, settling into a rhythm that sounds less like war and more like the beginning of what comes after.

I press my palm flat against his chest.

"Take me home, Rowan."

"Da, moye solnyshko." His lips press warm against my hair. "Let's go home. But first we have to help our family."

“I love those words. Our family.”

Epilogue

Cora

The contractions are four minutes apart and the officiant is five minutes away.

I let out a huff of air and suck in through gritted teeth. This is fine. Totally fine.

I've been under tighter deadlines. The coloring book for the Redthorne bookstore launch was tighter than this. I finished that one with two hours to spare and a cramp in my drawing hand while Rowan stood behind me rubbing my shoulders as I inked the last page.

This is just a baby.

Babies wait for no one, but they also take their time, and I'm praying this one inherited her father's patience rather than her mother's tendency to charge headfirst into situations without a plan.

"Is he here yet?"

Rowan checks his phone. "Five minutes."

"You said five minutes three minutes ago."

"I’m sure he’s breaking every traffic law there is to get here in time, sunshine."

Another contraction pulls along my spine and I’m pretty sure I’m seeing a galaxy four universes over from the pain bowing my back. "Ohhhhh… tell him to drive faster!"

Rowan takes my hand and I breathe through the next five minutes of no pain. Just when I think I got this, another contraction rolls through me and the world whites out.

Every muscle in my abdomen clamps down with a force that has no interest in waiting for Rowan and I to say “I do.”

I grip the edge of the bed and breathe through it, slow inhale through the nose, controlled exhale through the mouth.

The compound is full. I've never heard this much noise down here. Voices carry through stone and marble, bouncing off surfaces that were designed for silence and are currently hosting a small army of people who refuse to use their inside voices.

Everyone is here. The brothers and their wives. Raine, who flew in from Seattle two weeks ago and hasn't left. She's been sleeping in the guest room Rowan built during the remodel of the cabin upstairs.

We also redid the underworld. The compound is unrecognizable to what it was. I insisted on keeping the bones, the stone, the pool, the cliff-face windows that stare out over the lake. But the black marble mausoleum is gone. Color fills every room. The kitchen has real counter space, multiple stools for a large family and endless amounts of dishware and cookery.

“I told you we shouldn’t have waited.” Rowan leans in and kisses my forehead.

“Look, we had a lot of work to do to get this world ready for our baby.”

There was the cabin, the compound and then the three nurseries Rowan insisted on. One here, one upstairs and one at Redthorne. He vowed never to leave me anywhere and well, he has kept his words.

The flower beds on the terrace bloom with everything I promised. Wildflowers, herbs, sunflowers that track the light. It took me weeks to plan out everything before I planted a single seed. And it was so worth it. When our little baby sees all the color and light they’ll know the world is filled with love just like their mom and dad are for them.

And then there's Petals & Thorns.