Page 64 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

Lucas chuckles again, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes my heart flutter. “Fair enough. How about ‘Isla’? It’s unique but not too out there.”

I consider it for a moment, rolling the name over in my mind. “Isla…” I say slowly. “I like that. It feels… timeless. Strong but soft.”

He nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Isla,” he muses, testing it out. “Yeah, I could see that. But what if she doesn’t like it? What if she’s more of a… I don’t know, a ‘Riley’ or ‘Sophie’?”

I smile, imagining a little girl with Lucas’s dark eyes and my unruly hair, running around with boundless energy, stubborn and bright. “Then we’ll have to wait and see what kind of person she becomes,” I reply, my heart swelling at the thought.

I feel a burst of excitement in my chest, one I’ve been holding back, savoring the moment. “I sold my first story today.”

His eyes widen slightly, and a broad grin spreads across his face. “You’re kidding,” he says, a mixture of surprise and pride in his voice. “That’s amazing!”

I laugh, nodding as I reach into my bag and pull out a printed email. “No joke. They want to publish it in next month’s issue. It’s a small magazine, but still—it’s something.”

Lucas takes the paper, his eyes scanning over the words before he looks back at me, his grin even wider. “I knew you’d do it,” he says, his voice warm and certain. “Sooner or later, I knew you’d break through.”

“Really?” I ask, a hint of disbelief in my tone. “Even when I was convinced I’d never get anything but rejection letters?”

He chuckles softly, leaning in closer, his forehead resting against mine. “Even then. Especially then. I’ve seen how hard you work, how much you care about every word. It was only a matter of time before someone else saw it too. Never give up.”

A wave of emotion washes over me, and I blink back the sudden sting of tears. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with gratitude. “For believing in me… for always believing.”

He kisses me softly, his lips lingering on mine for a moment before he pulls back, his eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to be great, you know that?” he murmurs. “A great journalist, a great mom… everything.”

I smile, a warm glow spreading through my chest as I rest my head on his shoulder, our hands still intertwined. “Well,” I say, a hint of playfulness returning to my voice, “with a little girl named Isla—or maybe Riley—to keep us on our toes, we’ll have plenty of inspiration.”

He laughs softly, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles over my stomach. “I think she’s going to be just as stubborn as you are,” he says, his tone affectionate.

“Good,” I reply with a grin. “She’ll need it to keep up with you.”

We fall into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, tossing around more names—“Lila,” “Sophia,” “Aria”—each one a new possibility, a different path for our future.

With every name, every laugh, every shared look, I see the excitement and hope in his eyes, and it fills me with a deep, abiding sense of peace.

Whatever her name ends up being, I know she’ll be loved beyond measure. And as we talk and dream together, I realize that this is the life we’re already building—one filled with hope, laughter, and a love that’s only growing stronger.

When Lucas brings up the idea of Yale versus Harvard, I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “Maybe a little early for that, don’t you think?”

He grins, that mischievous glint in his eyes that I’ve come to love. “Never too early to plan ahead.”

“Let’s at least get her to kindergarten first,” I tease, playfully nudging him.

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss me, a kiss that’s soft and sweet, filled with the promise of everything that’s to come. When we pull back, the moment lingers, and I can see the same thought in his eyes that’s running through my mind.

“Come with me,” he says suddenly, standing up and taking my hand.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

“You’ll see,” he replies with a wink, leading me back inside to the elevator.

48

EMILY

The basement pool is deserted, and it feels like our own private oasis, far removed from the chaos of the world above.

“Care for a swim?” Lucas asks, that playful tone back in his voice as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.

I raise an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips as I watch him. “You know I don’t have a swimsuit with me.”

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