Page 89 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
For a moment, I allow myself to feel whole with her filling the missing pieces of me. I savor it as I drift away.
16
GABRIELLA
I watch Marco's chest rise and fall, his face finally relaxed in sleep.
It's jarring to see him so vulnerable, disheveled, completely unguarded. Marco Calabresi, the man who never shows weakness, reduced to this drunken state.
I gently pull the blanket over him as his words echo in my mind.
I'm tired.
I wonder what he meant by that? Tired tonight? Tired from life? Tired of the brutality of his work? Tired of always being so in control?
In all our time together last year, I never once saw him drunk. Not even tipsy.
Control is too important to him, so to see him willingly surrender is unsettling.
What happened out there tonight? Or is this going back to not using the condom? God, if that’s the case, the idea of a child must really terrify him.
I brush a strand of hair from Marco's forehead. Even unconscious, his brow furrows at my touch. Always fighting, even in sleep.
I slip into bed, my mind still swirling with questions about what happened tonight.
I close my eyes, trying to quiet my thoughts. Just as sleep begins to claim me, Marco moves, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against his chest. His breath is warm on back of my neck.
We've shared a bed before, spent countless nights tangled in each other's arms, but never like this.
Marco has always maintained a certain distance, even in our most intimate moments.
He'd pull me close during sex, but afterward, he'd retreat to his side of the bed. Cuddling isn’t his thing.
Yet here he is, spooning around me, holding me. I know with the sunrise tomorrow, Marco will put distance between us again.
He'll act as if tonight never happened, as if he never showed this vulnerable side of himself.
Vulnerability is weakness in his world, and Marco Calabresi cannot afford to be weak.
But for now, nestled against his body, I can pretend. For tonight, I can imagine a world where Marco isn't afraid to need me.
I wake with a jolt, immediately aware of the empty space beside me. My hand reaches out, finding only cold sheets where Marco slept last night.
This is exactly what I expected, yet hoped wouldn't happen.
Marco's probably been up for hours, already forgetting what happened last night.
I drag myself from bed and head to the ensuite bath.
The sound of running water stops me at the door.
Pushing it open, warm steam fills the room.
Through the glass shower wall, I can make out Marco's silhouette.
He stands motionless under the spray, head bowed, hands braced against the tile wall.
The water cascades over his head and down his powerful shoulders.
