Page 161 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
"Luca!" It’s been a year since I’ve seen him.
“Sorella mia,” he says with a big grin. He stands in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space, looking every bit the heir to the Monti family.
While Christmas isn’t the time or place to talk to him about our father, I’m determined to have a discussion with him before he leaves again.
This time, our father is on board, and Marco says he’ll do whatever is needed to help.
I rush across the room and throw my arms around him. "You’re here!"
"Of course." He laughs, returning my embrace. "It's Christmas."
The joy bubbling inside me feels limitless.
"You look different," Luca says, holding me at arm's length. His eyes catch the sparkle on my finger, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Very different."
I laugh, pulling him toward Marco. "We have so much to tell you."
"So," Luca says, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing server and looking around at our gathered family, "what have I missed around here since last Christmas?"
The question triggers a collective groan followed by bursts of laughter from our guests.
"Where do we even start?" Roman says.
"FBI meetings," I offer dryly.
"Ambushes," Marco adds.
"Traitors in our midst," my father contributes.
"Shotgun weddings," Marco says with a smirk, sliding his arm around my waist.
"And babies," I finish, placing my hand over my still-flat stomach.
Luca's eyes widen comically. "All since last Christmas? I leave for one year and the entire world turns upside down?"
"Welcome home, Brother. You've got a lot of catching up to do."
“I guess I do.” Luca’s gaze narrows on Elena, who turns away, presumably to check on her children.
“Wait.” Dominic’s deep voice cuts through the crowd. “Did Marco say shotgun wedding?”
All eyes turn to us.
My father, looking clearer than I’ve seen in him in a while, holds up his champagne glass. “I’m happy to announce the engagement of my daughter, Gabriella, to Don Marco Calabresi, and the impending birth of their first child.”
“First? How many will they have?” Luca says with a wink to me.
“Four. Maybe five,” I say. Marco looks a little pale at that but smiles.
Congratulations fill the air, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
Well, that’s not true.
I was happier when I learned Marco would live and then all the times he tells me he loves me.
And of course, this morning when he proposed.
As everyone breaks into smaller groups to catch up, I notice Elena by the Christmas tree, her attention fixed on her triplets while remaining oddly separate from the celebration.
