บททั้งหมดของ The Mafia's Bride: บทที่ 71 - บทที่ 80

Chapter Seventy-OneCARLY'S limbs were still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax when Giovanni finally untied her wrists."I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, pressing tender kisses to each of her wrists.They were red and slightly sore, but she couldn't care less. Her body was still floating in a euphoric haze. Every fiber of her being quivered from the dizzying bliss Giovanni had given her, and even the pounding of her heart had yet to return to normal.Her breath came in shallow bursts when their eyes met again. He kissed her wrists alternately, sensually, hotly. Until his lips reached the heel of her palm."Gio..."He brushed his tongue across her palm before pressing a firm kiss at its center. She gasped softly. Then, one by one, he took her fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking with aching gentleness. All the while, his eyes never left hers. That heated, unrelenting stare set her body aflame all over again.

Chapter Seventy-ThreeCARLOTTA woke with a sweet smile on her lips. Giovanni was pressing soft kisses to her closed eyelids, his lips slowly trailing down the bridge of her nose before landing a playful kiss on the tip of it."Good morning," she murmured, still too lazy to open her eyes."Good morning, wife."She couldn't help but smile at the word he used. Wife. Husband. They were now husband and wife."Breakfast or me?" he asked hoarsely, nuzzling into her neck.She swatted his stomach weakly. He hadn't given her much rest the entire night, and now he was already hinting at more this early in the morning."I'm hungry. And my knees are still trembling, so behave.""Okay, breakfast it is.""I'll take a shower first while you order room service," she said, brushing a quick kiss over his lips before slipping out of bed."I love you," he called after her, trying to st

Chapter Seventy-FiveGIOVANNI'S throat tightened as his gaze lingered on the little boy hiding against Carlotta's chest. His son. His flesh and blood. And yet, the child looked at him as though he were a stranger to fear.Taking a slow breath, he forced himself to crouch lower, leveling his eyes with the timid boy. His tone, once sharp with anger, softened into something unrecognizable even to himself."Charlemagne," he said carefully, tasting the name on his tongue as if committing it to memory. "That's your name, isn't it?"The boy's small shoulders flinched at the sound, but he didn't answer. His little fingers only curled tighter into his mother's blouse.Giovanni swallowed hard. He wanted to reach out, to pry the child from Carly's arms and hold him, prove to himself that this wasn't a dream. But he knew if he pushed too hard, he would lose him.So instead, he slowly opened both palms and rested them on his knees, empty

Chapter Seventy-Seven"WE'RE okay, Daddy," Carlotta said to her father on the other end of the line.It had been a week since Giovanni last spoke to her. For seven long days, he did nothing but bond with their triplets. It seemed he was making up for lost time with them. And she couldn't really blame him. She had denied him almost four years. Often, she would catch him just staring at their children as though in awe. And even when they were asleep, he would bend down to kiss and hold them, as if reassuring himself that the three little beings in front of him weren't just an illusion.Only on the first day had Charlemagne remained distant. By the next day, he too had warmed up to his father. And she had to admit, she was impressed. Giovanni had quickly learned to tell the two boys apart. Sal and Charlemagne looked almost identical. Even their nannies sometimes struggled to distinguish between them, especially when the two were up to mischief. But

Chapter Seventy-NineCHRISTMAS Eve.Dinner had been exquisitely prepared, yet unbearably tense. The crystal chandelier cast warm light over the mahogany dining table, where fine china and silver gleamed. But the atmosphere remained frigid despite the festive decorations adorning the vast dining room. If not for the triplets' innocent chatter and delighted squeals over their Christmas crackers, Carly was certain the space would have fallen into suffocating silence.She had invited her father to celebrate Christmas Eve with them, as well as Don Salvatorre. It was painfully obvious the two patriarchs despised each other with barely concealed animosity. Every time their steel-gray eyes met across the table, the air practically crackled with unspoken threats and decades-old grudges.Her father had always possessed a long memory for slights, real or imagined. Even with Giovanni, he maintained his characteristic reserve. Always polite and civil