Page 76 of The Queen's Vow (Ruthless Games 2)

EPILOGUE

TWO YEARS LATER...

REBECCA

I rubbed my swollenbelly over my white lace dress. Today was my wedding day. A little more than two years ago, another kind of wedding day had waited for me. With a man I despised. Ironically, now I loved him and would marry him of my own will.

My desire.

I was all in now.

Ready to be Anthony Messina’s wife.

And Sebastien Daria.

And Giancarlo Byrne.

And Julian Russo.

“How many babies are you going to have?” Nate asked me, bringing my veil down over my eyes.

I pushed it back for now to glance at my son Matteo bouncing on my sister Chrissy’s knee. “As many as I want,” I answered, wishing Cami and Mom were there.

Mom and I never saw eye to eye again and Cami needed our mom, so I understood her decision not to come to my wedding.

“When are you having a son?” I asked Nate.

“When I’m ready,” Lacey answered with a smile.

The last two years had been bloody in New York and I had to fight to keep my throne. With the Messina, Daria, and Byrne armies including underground Bianco sworn soldiers, my power reigned. And we vowed to be ruthless to anyone who messed with us.

We opened up to everyone about our relationship. What we thought would make us look weak made us wickedly powerful. An enemy had to destroy four princes to get to me. It’d taken some coaxing, but Richard Daria and Patrick Byrne came around with their blessing.

Anthony Messina, Sr. did not. He was ready to cut Anthony off and even plotted against us until he and Vito died in a car crash several months ago. His mother hadn’t spoken to Anthony since.

That left me with one mother-in-law, sort of, since Julian’s mother had written him off years ago, opting for a life of drugs in a Vegas motel.

Francesca was a wonderful mother-in-law, even if she liked to pretend Giancarlo was the only man in my life.

My brother brought a rockstar named Kane to perform the commitment ceremony. Nate confessed to me a few nights ago, he and Lacey and the other rockstars he shared her with, gorgeous gods, who came to New York for my wedding, had been joined in a sacred union by the same guy.

“I’ll try not to think about the kind of honeymoon you’ll have.” Nate cleared his throat. “Considering the one I had.”

I faced him and swirled my hand across my stomach. “Take comfort they won’t go at me too hard. I’m due any day.”

“And we’re hoping the princess graces us with her presence soon.” Bastien kissed me and I went still.

“Grace. That’s her name.” We struggled with that for weeks.

Bastien smiled and pushed his forehead with mine. “I love it.”

“I love you.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to see the bride?” Chrissy said, handing Matteo to Francesca who kept staring at him, dying to see a trace of Bianco genes in his eyes. “All of you.”

“She gave birth to this prince before she took any wedding vows.” Francesca pressed her cheek against my son’s. “She’s got another one ready to go. Four husbands-to-be. I think we blew past tradition going one hundred miles per hour.”

“Tradition, shmadition.” Anthony kissed me and ran a thumb across my lips. “I told you, you’d marry me.”

“You were right.” I hugged him, his warmth and spicy cologne filling me with excitement. Nothing changed his powerful persona of a mafia prince, a god every woman wanted.

But he was mine.

“Hold my son tight, mother,” Giancarlo said, giving me goosebumps as he hugged me next. The way he claimed Matteo as his son made me wonder if he did a DNA test behind my back.

Matteo had blond hair and my blue eyes. But those traits have been in the Northern Italian bloodline for centuries. Darker features such as rich brown eyes like Sebastien and his curly sable hair only emerged when the Moors conquered Italy one thousand years ago.

Julian took my hand last and kissed my knuckles while touching my stomach.

One thing I will say about these men, I pushed out one seven-pound baby and they couldn’t wait to come back for more of my pussy. Julian was the first to push the six-week limit by a few hours.

Standing shoulder to shoulder, my four lovers who were about to be my husbands left the bridal suite in Giancarlo’s Warwick hotel. Twenty flights above, we all now lived together in Giancarlo’s penthouse.

High in the sky surrounded by guards and guns below.

Not the exact way I counted on living my life, but I hadn’t counted on being Queen of New York.

And I also hadn’t counted on taking vows with four men to be my husbands.

To have and to hold. From this day forward, until death do us part. And no motherfucker better try to take me out again.