Page 88 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

That Anthony has done.

Natalie touches her hand to my cheek, our fingers intertwined, and I inhale slowly. Then, gently, she guides my hand lower, pressing it to the soft curve of her stomach.

It takes a moment—one breathless, earth-shattering moment—for the meaning of her gesture to sink in. My mind stumbles, grasping for understanding as my heart slams against my ribs.

“You’re…” The word catches in my throat, tangled with the storm of emotions threatening to consume me. My hands shake as I reach for her, afraid to hope, afraid to believe. “You’re pregnant?”

Natalie nods, a soft, breathy laugh escaping her lips. “Yeah,” she whispers, her voice laced with a thousand unspoken things. “Yeah, I am. I wasn’t going to tell you… not after you disappeared. But you’re here.” Her eyes search mine, hope flickering in their depths, fragile yet unwavering.

I don’t let her wait another second. I pull her into my arms, wrapping her in everything I am, everything I should have never left behind.

“I’m here,” I murmur, pressing my forehead to hers and feeling the warmth of her breath against my lips.

My fingers trace the curve of her face, memorizing, revering. I cradle her cheek in my palm, letting my thumb brush against her skin as if grounding myself in the reality of this moment.

“I was stupid to leave,” I confess, my voice hoarse with regret. “Reckless to think I could live without you.”

“Why did you go?” She asks.

“I thought I was protecting you,” I murmur as my hand curves along her spine, rounding her stomach. I still can’t believe it—the awe. “Anthony sent me pictures of us, and I thought it was someone else. I was scared they’d hurt you because of me.”

“You could’ve said something,” Natalie tilts her chin, gazing at me. “It might’ve taken a while, but I would’ve understood.”

I don’t answer—not with words. Instead, my lips find the curve of her neck, tracing warmth against her skin, nipping gently as she exhales, her body melting into mine. We’re pressed against the door, out in the open, but I don’t care.

I’ve waited too damn long.

“How?” I whisper against her skin. “How could you have understood everything I am?”

She pulls back just enough to look at me, her fingers drifting to my chest, resting right over my pounding heart. There’s a beat of silence, heavy and charged before her lips curve into the faintest smile.

“Love,” she says, her voice steady. “Love has a way of making even the darkest truths a little easier to carry.”

Her fingers rest lightly over my heart, steady and sure, as if she can tame the wild rhythm beneath her touch. I search her face, looking for doubt, some sign that she doesn’t truly believe the words she’s offering me.

That I’m not worth the chance she’s giving to me.

But there’s only certainty in her eyes.

A shaky breath escapes me as I press my forehead against hers. “You’re amazing. You know that? Sofuckingamazing, Natalie Monroe.”

She grins proudly, pressing the briefest of kisses to my forehead. “I know. But a single compliment’s not going to make up for lost time, Ethan Cross.”

A low sound rumbles in my throat, something raw, something desperate. My hands tighten around her waist, pulling her flush against me.

Only her. Only this.

I exhale, tracing my fingers down her jaw, memorizing every inch of her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Natalie smiles softly, pressing her palm a little firmer against my chest. “Then stay and prove me wrong.”

We stumble into her bedroom, shirt coming off and sweats hanging at her knees. I gather Natalie into my arms, carefully dropping her on the bed. The bump I didn’t notice before is there now—a slight roundness that brings a deep exhale from within.

I never thought about having a child… not in a way a man fathers one with the woman he loves. But Natalie makes me dream of things.

A home.

Hearth.

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