“That’s not fair. You know I’d never say no to this precious boy.”
“I absolutely know. And I have no intentions of being fair if it makes you agree to speak to Luca.”
She hesitates a moment. “All right. I’ll see him.”
“Thank you, Mamma. You won’t regret this.”
Luca opens the car door when he sees me coming out of the house. “She agreed to see me?”
“She isn’t happy about it, not even a little bit, but she did agree.”
“Okay. All right.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Whaaat? You know I don’t get nervous, baby.”
He’s such a man. “Despite what you may believe, you aren’t made of steel. You’re human and you get nervous. It’s okay to admit it.”
“Okay. I’m a little bit nervous but not for myself.”
“For me?”
“And Alessio. I know how much you want your family to be in your life and his. I don’t want to be the one who blows that for you.”
I glide my hands up his chest and wrap them around his shoulders. “You aren’t going to blow it. I believe in you.”
“For you and Alessio, I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
“I know you will.”
Mamma remains seated when Luca and I enter the living room. I go to her, taking Alessio because I don’t want her to be distracted. I need all of her attention to be focused on the conversation she and Luca are about to have.
“Hello, Sofia,” Luca says, taking my mother’s hand and kissing her ring.
She nods. “Luca.”
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“I can assure you that it’s not because I want to.”
My mother’s eyes widen when Luca kneels on one knee before her and bows his head. “I have come to express my deepest regret to you for what I’ve done to you and your family. I understand that you are unable to give me your forgiveness today, and you may never, but I humbly ask you to not hold a grudge against Emilia and our son for my wrongdoings.”
Luca pauses a moment, and my mother’s mouth gapes.
“I would like to return the Bellini assets to you and your family, which I wrongfully took from you.”
Mamma looks at me and then back at my kneeling husband. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I only want to hear you say that you accept Emilia back into the Bellini family. And with her, your grandson, Alessio.”
“And Gemma,” I add.
“Yes. I welcome my daughters and grandson with open arms. And in return, I ask that they forgive me for my wrongdoings.”
“Of course, Mamma.”
Luca lifts his head. “This means the world to Emilia. Thank you.”
Luca is afraid to ask for anything on his behalf. Whether he says so or not, he fears my mother’s rejection.
“What about Luca and Stephan?”
“I don’t offer them my forgiveness today.”
I’m not surprised. I didn’t expect an absolution from her at this point.
“We understand why you’re withholding your forgiveness for the time being, but do Luca and Stephan have your blessing to return here as your sons-in-law?”
My mother inhales deeply, looking at me and then Luca. “I can see that you’re doing this because you love Emilia and my grandson. For that reason, you are welcome in our home. Gemma and Stephan too.”
“Thank you, Mamma. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”
My relationship with my mother is still broken. It’s going to take time to heal, but this is a step in the right direction. Because Luca made it possible.
Epilogue
Emilia Rossini
Four Years Later, New York, 1983
“Hello, love.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see Luca standing in the doorway. “You’re back earlier than expected.”
“I promised Alessio I would be home in time to read a bedtime story to him.”
“Well, that explains why he spent all evening going through his books.”
“Our boy loves his bedtime stories.”
“He does indeed.”
Alessio gets his love of books from his dad. And I think he may have also inherited Luca’s artistic skills. He certainly didn’t get his talent from me.
Luca comes into the nursery and stands beside me, tickling Lorenzo, our second son, beneath his chin. “Hey, boy. Were you good for your mamma today?”
“He’s been cranky. I think his ear is bothering him again. He’s tugged on it all afternoon.”
“Do you think he needs to be seen by Dr. Meyers?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call the office in the morning and make an appointment.”
I lift Lorenzo from the changing table, freshly diapered and dressed for bed, placing him on my hip.
My sweet baby boy Lorenzo. I can’t believe he’s already eighteen months old and Alessio, four. Where has the time gone?
“Everything go well at your dinner tonight?”
“You could say that. I had an offer.”
An offer. I’ve come to hate those two words.
My husband is rich, powerful, and handsome. I’m never surprised when he receives an offer from a woman. She makes a pass at him and he tells me, always, so there are no secrets between us. That’s the kind of marriage we have. We openly tell each other everything, but I must admit that sometimes I get tired of hearing about women who throw themselves at him.
“You know I don’t care about the offer. I only care that you refused it.”
“Baby… I didn’t refuse this offer.”
My head jolts, turning to look at my husband, and my stomach feels as though it’s dropped to my feet. “What do you mean you didn’t refuse the offer?”
“Let’s do this: I’ll read to Alessio and put him to bed, you get Ren down, and then we’ll talk about the offer when we’re not distracted by the boys.”
I pull Lorenzo to me, hugging him. “Don’t you dare do that to me—tell me that you didn’t refuse one of those fucking offers and then expect me to wait and discuss it after the kids are in bed.”
Luca wraps his arm around me and pulls me close, chuckling. “Baby, you know me better than that. It’s not that kind of offer.”
Now I just feel like a silly, jealous wife for jumping to conclusions. But in my defense, an offer is what he always calls it when a woman tries to sleep with him.
“What kind of offer was it?”
“I told you, love. Let’s put the boys to bed, and then we’ll discuss it.”
“All right. But I don’t like it.”
“Believe me, I know.”
I’m relieved when Lorenzo goes to sleep without a fight. But Alessio? My boy always begs for just one more chapter, and Luca has a terrible habit of giving into him.
Luca stops reading when he sees me in the doorway. “We have to stop here for tonight, son.”
“No. Keep reading. Pleeease.”
“It’s your bedtime, little man. We’ll pick up here tomorrow night.”
I come into Alessio’s room and pull up his covers. Tucking them beneath his arms, I place a kiss on his forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Mamma.”
“Sweet dreams, my perfect boy.”
With our children tucked into bed, Luca and I retreat to our bedroom. It’s the one place in this enormous compound where my husband and I are able to have an entirely private conversation.
“Tell me about this offer you didn’t refuse.” Before I burst.
“Vitale Lazarro has proposed a betrothal between Alessio and his daughter.”
I can’t believe Luca would even propose this idea to me. He knows how I feel about arranged marriages. “No.”
“Please hear me out before you refuse.”
“All right. I will hear you out and then refuse.”
“I’m a free man because Vitale’s connections within the police department managed to lose evidence that woul
d have put me away for at least a decade. I’m here with you tonight because of him. I get to see my boys grow up because of what he did for me.”
“And I will be forever grateful to him for that.”
“If we refuse this offer and insult Vitale, it’s possible that his man on the inside who lost the evidence against me could find it again.”
“Is he blackmailing you?”
“No, but I believe it’s wise to stay in good graces with the family. As you know, I have run-ins with the law on a regular basis. They could prove to be useful in the future.”
“You knew before we had children that I didn’t want them to be betrothed.”
“I know and that’s why our son’s betrothal would be different from ours. We and the Lazarros would raise Alessio and the girl together, so they would know each other from the start. They would never be strangers to one another.”
Alessio and his betrothed would know each other as Nic and I did? That changes things.
“If they don’t want to marry when the time comes, they may dissolve the betrothal themselves. I told Vitale that’s the only way you would agree to one.”
“He agreed to those conditions?”
“He did, but the real question is do you find those terms agreeable?”
“I find the terms agreeable enough to consider the betrothal.” Luca smiles and I know he believes he has me. “I said consider. That’s very different from agree.”
“Thank you for considering this.”
“You expected me to outright say no?”
“I did.”
He’s right to assume so. I would have if not for the conditions accompanying the offer.
“Tell me more about the girl.”
“Her name is Serafina. They call her Sera. She’s a year younger than Alessio, the youngest of the Lazarro children. Their only girl.”
All parents of young girls within the five families want their daughter to be betrothed to Alessio. And now, they’re starting to inquire about Lorenzo for daughters who’ve yet to be born.
I hate it. My children aren’t pawns. They aren’t rungs on a ladder for someone to use in their efforts of climbing to the top of the Mafia hierarchy.
“Because I can see how important this is to you, I agree to meet with the Lazarros and discuss it. But that’s all I’m promising at this point.”
“That’s all I’m asking for, love.”
“I’m giving you something you want. I think it’s only fair if you give me something I want in return.”
“I know what you want.” Luca’s brow lifts. “Your fertility window is open?”
Sitting on the bed, I place my heels on the bedrail and allow my dress to slide up my thighs when I spread them. “It’s wiiide open.”
Looking beneath my dress, he chuckles as he reaches for his tie. “Looks like that’s not the only thing wide open.”
“Nope, it sure isn’t.”
I sit on the bed, watching, as he kicks out of his shoes and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Piece by piece, he undresses until he is bare, and I am looking at over six feet of masculine nakedness.
Damn. I have a beautiful husband. I love every inch of him, but I especially love every inch when he’s inside me.
His bare feet thump against the padded shag carpet as he comes toward me, motioning for me to stand. “Up, love.”
I stand and turn around, lifting my hair, so he can unzip my dress. He’s so close that I can feel his breath falling on my back’s bare skin, sending chills down my spine.
He pushes my dress down my hips, and it falls to the floor, followed by my bra and panties. When I’m as bare as he is, his powerful arm hooks around me, pulling my body tight against his. His mouth lowers to my ear, my neck, my shoulder, kissing me hard.
Turning me around, he grips the back of my thighs and lifts. I instantly wrap my arms around his shoulders, and together, we tumble backward on the bed. I love the feel of his weight on top of me, pushing me into the mattress.
My fingertips dig into his muscular back as he slides every hard inch inside me. When he’s in all the way to the hilt, he stops and groans. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
His sculpted body rocks into mine as his muscles flex and tighten, his knees pushing my thighs apart. With this man deep inside me, I feel the connection not only between our bodies but also between our souls as though we are one entity.
His strong arms hook behind my thighs, bringing my legs up, spreading me wide apart. His thrusts are so deep that I can feel his tip hitting my womb, causing me to ache, but it feels so good that I don’t want him to stop.
And then he fucks me hard.
My fingertips dig deep into the flesh of his back, and my thighs squeeze him tightly. We’ll both be sore tomorrow, I’m certain of that.
This is how love is supposed to be—an all-consuming desire where you can’t get enough of your beloved no matter how many times you’re together. And that’s how I feel. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this man.
“I’m close, baby.”
His thrusts slow and deepen, like he’s trying to bury himself as far inside me as possible when he explodes. He moves at a steady pace between my thighs. Hovering over me, his eyes focus on mine, and I stretch upward to kiss him.
“Give me a girl this time,” I whisper against his lips.
He nods and whispers back, “A princess. Our little princess.”
With his face buried against my neck, he writhes on top of me, his sweaty chest rubbing against mine. Groaning, his cock twitches inside me, filling me with every drop of him. Hopefully, giving me the baby girl I want.
Gradually, his muscles relax, and his breath becomes regular again. He kisses the length of my throat, worshiping me. His queen.
I don’t see an ideal love when I look at Luca. Far from it, actually, and nothing like the kind of perfect love I once dreamed of having.
I am looking at a man who would fight until his last breath to protect me. A man who would sacrifice his life in place of mine because that’s how deeply he loves me. I don’t doubt that for a second.
Our love story didn’t begin as a romantic one. Neither has it been easy. The truth is that it’s been brutally painful. But it’s our love story, and I adore it. Nothing is dearer to my heart.
Hard as I tried, I couldn’t escape loving this beautiful monster.
The End.
Author Note
It is my greatest hope that you enjoyed Waiting for my Queen. I appreciate the time you invested in my story… in my words… in a part of me.
I would be honored and grateful if you choose to leave a review.
Continue reading to enjoy an excerpt of A Necessary Sin. An epic tale of revenge and love in a new romantic trilogy.
I’ve watched him from afar for years. And he has no idea.
I take joy in that.
Through my observations, I’ve learned what makes this charming villain tick.
Whisky.
Power.
Beautiful women.
And Sex. Lots of it.
Sometimes you must get into bed with the enemy for the greater good. And that’s what I’ll do; it’s all part of making Sinclair Breckenridge fall in love with me so I can penetrate his inner circle.
There’s hell to pay.
I’m a dark horse. The perfect storm.
I am Bleu MacAllister. And I’m coming for him.
A Necessary Sin
Stella Bleu Lawrence
Age Seven
I’m wearing my pretty pink princess apron and chef hat while doing my most favoritest thing in the world–baking chocolate chip cookies with my mama. I inspect the shiny plastic roll of dough, studying the picture of the white fluffy pastry boy on the package before turning it around for her to see. “Mama, look. He’s wearing a puffy hat just like mine. Except mine’s prettier.” Everything is prettier when it’s pink.
My mama sprays the pan we’re using for our cookies. “He sure is, Bleubird. And I think
you’re right. Yours is much prettier. Did you know only the best chefs in the world wear hats like yours?”
Wow. This hat makes me one of the best chefs in the world so that means these cookies are going to be the most delicious I’ve ever baked.
“It’s your favorite song,” I squeal when “Amanda” begins to play. Mama says Boston sings that song just for her. I think she could be right since Amanda is her name.
We always listen to music when we’re cooking so I’ve heard this song a million times. I know every word by heart but I don’t understand what it means. Mama says it’s all about grown-up stuff and I’ll understand one day. I’m not sure I ever want to understand. Grown-up stuff makes my mama cry. A lot.
I’m singing my guts out because it always makes her crack up. I love seeing her laugh because it means she isn’t crying. She’s too pretty to cry so much.
She holds the plastic roll of dough to her mouth and pretends it’s a microphone. She sings so pretty. Everything about Mama is pretty. I hope I grow up to be just like her.
The song gets to the part where there are no words, only guitars, so she puts her pretend microphone on the counter and slices into it with a sharp knife. She always does that part because she says I’m still too little to use knives. My job is to roll the dough into little balls. I’m not always great at it, though. Some come out big, some little. But she always tells me I’ve done a great job–even when I know I haven’t.
“Can I have a bite of dough?” She’s making her “no” face. “Please… with lots and lots of sugar on top.”
I can’t remember why she said it’s okay to eat the cookie dough after it comes out of the oven, but not before. “Hailey’s mama lets her have cookie dough.”
“Maybe one little bite will be okay, but we’re not going to make a habit of this, little lady.” She pinches off a tiny ball and I almost jump up and down because I’m so happy. I’ve always wanted to taste it because Hailey says it’s delicious.
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