Page 241 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Again, congrats,” she murmured. “I hope he’s everything you want, and everything we don’t have, Gian. It’s easier for you that way, isn’t it? When everything you share with her, is nothing like what waits for you here?”

“You don’t really need an answer for that, Elena. You already know.”

How different they could have been, he thought. How entirely different their life could have been together.

If only she had cared enough.

Gian no longer cared at all.

Marcus Gian Guzzi made his way into the world nearly twenty-four hours to the minute that Cara had called Gian. He came into the world quietly, pink, slick and bloodstained. He didn’t cry at first, but not because something was wrong.

No, he didn’t cry because he was born with his eyes wide open, already looking for the people that belonged to only him.

The smallest thing to have ever scared the very life out of Gian.

The most beautiful thing to have ever graced his life, next to his mother.

An amazing, tiny, brown-haired, dark-eyed creature that was nothing like Gian had expected, but so much more. Ten perfect fingers, and ten perfect toes. Soft, warm skin, and facial features, right down to the dimple in his cheek, that matched his father.

Features that matched the Guzzi genes.

Cara had been so quiet through the process, measured breaths and quivering words. She wanted Gian close, but she barely spoke to him at all. He went off her cues, to give her what she wanted, and didn’t ask to be told what to do. It wasn’t him doing this wonderful thing, after all. It was all on her.

It was only when, in a birthing pool of her choice, she had pushed Marcus out into the world that she did so with her first and only cry.

And it wasn’t so much a cry as a roar.

It was kind of perfect, too.

Hours after, once Cara had finally drifted off to sleep, and Gian was awake in the private room, holding his blinking newborn son, he took that silent moment to be amazed.

So amazed and in wonder.

His child was everything.

Gian lifted the swaddled boy a little higher, bringing him closer so that Marcus’s hazy gaze could catch his father’s. Sure enough, the baby stilled under his swaddling blankets the moment he locked onto Gian’s face, and everything was right and good and beautiful in that moment.

“Sweet boy. First of my legacy and house, and the seventh of your name. With blood made of gold, luck, and dirt, child. You don’t know what awaits you; you have no idea how amazing you’re going to be, but you don’t need to know, not yet. You have a whole life for me to teach you all of that, so it can wait. Guzzi Principe, this world is yours. This whole great, big world is all yours, Marcus.”

Like all Guzzi boys, Marcus was born a prince.

And like all Guzzi men, he’d eventually be a king.