Matteo's PovAs I hold her into me, soothing her into calmness, my wife seems to relax further with every passing second.“Did I go too far, baby?” I ask, my mouth resting on the space behind her ear.“No, no, not at all, Matteo.” She exhales a staggered breath as she turns around to face me, her eyes holding mine. “I’m perfect.”“Purple looks good on your skin,” I say on a whisper, leaning down to fuse my lips with hers. She gasps into my mouth and I expel a sigh of relaxation, my hands moving down to massage her ass.I pull her bottom lip between my teeth and give it a small bite. The act draws a moan from Mirabella’s throat; a moan that sends excitement coursing through my bones.Slowly, I begin leaning down, dragging my tongue in slow glides along her neckline. My wife’s hands come to rest on my shoulders fisting my shirt in a tight grip, her chest heaving with quickened breaths.I run my tongue over her cold, tightly perked nipple before closing my lips around the bud. She throws
Matteo's PovI wake up early with a feeling of an unexplainable joy, and when I feel my wife’s warm body molded into mine, her face looking relaxed and at peace as she clings onto me in her sleep, that unexplainable feeling of joy expands more at my heart. I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, and she stirs, smiling.That beautiful smile."Good morning," she whispers, her voice husky."Buongiorno, bella," I reply, my voice low and husky. I lean in, kissing her softly. She tastes like sleep and sweetness. And like me.I linger on her lips, feeling my heart swell with love. I glance at her belly, rounding out her nightgown. Our little one is growing, and I can't wait to meet them.“How are you feeling this morning, Tesoro mio?” I ask as I bury my face into the crook of her neck, inhaling a deep breath, my arms tightening around her.She hums lovingly, the palm of her hand coming to rest on top of the back of my palm. “I feel so good, Matteo. A little tired, a little sore, but
Matteo's PovWe spend a few more hours at the hospital, breezing in and out of one observation room to another. And in all the hours we spend at the hospital, all my wife does is talk my ears off about how upset she is with me for not disclosing the details of the surprise I have for her.I love the woman, but she can be infuriating and wearisome when she wants to be.After the checkup, I dismiss my men to head back to the estate, seeing how I’d like to enjoy a more private time with my wife without those brooding men hovering over us like some spy birds.I open the passenger’s side for her to get in, bowing my head like her very own private chauffeur. That’s exactly what I am, putting in consideration how many rides I’ve taken her on.Get your mind out of the gutters, Matteo Denaro.When I get into the driver’s side, my mouth part for words, but Mirabella put her hand up, stopping me from speaking even before I get the chance. “If whatever you intend to say has nothing to do with you
Matteo's PovA few days later.Blood has always been a constant factor in my life. From the earliest years of my life that I can remember, up until now, it has never been unknown to me.Shedding and spilling blood whenever I see fit has become a part of me, and I've learned to welcome it with open arms.And I don’t just welcome it unwillingly, I am so willing to do whatever it takes to spill as much blood as I can. It’s an act which I enjoy so much so I don’t feel at ease when I haven’t indulged.My hands are bloody, my eyes tightly narrowed, bottom lip caught between my teeth as I stare at my wife’s father in contemplation.The old man is on the floor, several parts of his body bleeding out, his throat eliciting pained and sorrowful whimpers, and his eyes rolling to the back of his head—an indication that he’s slowly drifting into the depths of darkness. Death.“Fuck,” I whisper frustratedly, my gaze shifting from the old man to Alessio who also has a regretful expression etched on hi
Mirabella's PovMonths later.I'm huddled in the kitchen with my husband, whispering and giggling like conspirators. We're planning a surprise party for our twins, Mariano and Mariana.A party to celebrate their sixth birthday.It’s been months since my children turned six, but I was skeptical about throwing a party for them for several reasons.First, my son doesn’t exactly like being surrounded by lots of people. He in-fact only enjoys the company of his sister and I do not wish to trigger him by forcing him out of his natural habitat.Secondly, our worst enemy, my father, was roaming free and devising several means to harm my family. I didn’t want to have us all in one place where he could easily hurt us.Now, he’s dead; hence, we’re throwing an intimate party for the kids."Okay, so we've got the cake, the decorations, and the games," I say, ticking off each item on my list. "What about the guest list?"Matteo replies, "Just family and close friends. We want to keep it intimate."
Matteo's PovI sit beside my son, holding him close as he trembles in my arms. The party chaos fades into the distance, leaving only the two of us in this quiet room.Minutes tick by, and I search for the right words to say. But what can I say to ease his pain? To make him feel safe again?I look down at him, his eyes still closed, his small chest rising and falling with each breath. My heart swells with love and compassion."Mariano, mio figlio," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "My son, I'm here for you. I'm always here for you."He doesn’t speak. The silence stretches out, but I don't fill it. I let him know that I'm present, that I'm not going anywhere.Slowly, his trembling subsides, and he opens his eyes. They're red-rimmed, but they lock onto mine, searching for reassurance."I'm sorry, Papa," he whispers, his voice cracking.I pull him closer, my heart breaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Mariano. You're perfect just the way you are.""Papa. . .but I don't know what
Mirabella's PovMonths later.I stand by the glass window, a beautiful smile etched to my face as I watch my husband and children interact in such a soul touching manner.After the events at the twins' birthday months ago, Matteo and I made a decision to move to Rome for a little while in order for us to give our full focus to our growing children.The house he purchased for us here in Rome is elegant, modern, small, and intimate. We decided to go for something smaller because we wanted a place that allows us to be closer to our kids, not a house that keeps us so far apart from one another.Matteo is chasing the children around the garden and they’re both laughing out their lungs as they tease him.My heart warms with a smile, my hands cradling my now huge bump.As though he notices my eyes on him, he stops chasing the kids and looks up at me. He waves at me, his face beaming with a smile. I chuckle and blow kisses at him.He grabs his chest, acting like someone shot with a love arrow
Matteo's PovI can recount the number of times when my wife was so happy the child in her surfaces. And the happiness and joy she feels today is worthy to be taken note of.She’s all flustered, her chest heaving, her face wide with a huge grin, and her eyes locked on the shiny ring around her finger.As I drive us back to our home, I feel a sense of fulfillment, of joy, knowing that I’m the reason my woman can’t stop herself from expressing her profound joy.“I still can’t believe this. . .oh my gosh!” She shrieks, slapping her hands over her thighs. I snort a laugh, shaking my head at her cuteness. She's like a kid on Christmas morning, her eyes sparkling with excitement.“You’re gonna wear it out if you keep staring at it, baby,” I say in an attempt to gain her undivided attention."Matteo, just look at it! Isn't it stunning?" She asks for the umpteenth time, waving her hand in front of me.I chuckle and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's beautiful, amore. Almost as be