Page 85 of Shattered Engagement

“You’re staring again, Stefano,” she calls over her shoulder, using my real name. She never calls me Alessio anymore—that ghost died on a marble floor in a hunting lodge upstate, bleeding out next to what remained of my vengeance.

“Can you blame me?” I catch up to her in three strides, my arm sliding around her waist. Her body fits against mine perfectly, curved in all the places I’m hard. “The view is exceptional.”

She laughs, the sound carrying across the private beach of our Amalfi Coast property. “Charmer. Is that how you infiltrated the Calviño organization? Smooth talk?”

“That, and a willingness to put bullets in people who deserved them.” I drop a kiss to her temple, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair, and murmur. “Different lifetime.”

It is, in every way, that matters. Alessio Gravano, the enforcer who spent twenty years plotting revenge, now exists only in whispered legends.

Maria sits on the porch of our coastal home, watching our lives with eyes that have seen too much but now, finally, witness joy. The cancer is in remission—a miracle, the doctors called it. I call it justice. She deserves to see what she saved flourish.

“How is she today?” Isadora asks, following my gaze to the woman who raised me.

“Stubborn. Insisted on making breakfast herself.” I shake my head, fondness warming my voice. “Said she didn’t escape New York just to be treated like an invalid in paradise.”

Isadora’s laugh vibrates against my side. “I adore her.”

“She adores you too.” More than that, Maria sees in Isadora what I see—strength that doesn’t require cruelty, power that isn’t afraid of tenderness.

We walk in companionable silence until we reach a small cove, sheltered from view by jutting rocks. It’s our place, discovered during our honeymoon, and we returned to purchase it.

She turns to face me, expression suddenly serious. “I have something to tell you.”

Instinct makes my body tense, muscles coiling as I scan for threats. Old habits.

Isadora places her hand against my cheek, her touch instantly grounding me. “Not that kind of something, Stefano.”

I cover her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my skin. “Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, emerald eyes holding mine with the directness I’ve always loved. “I’m pregnant.”

The world halts. Reorients. Begins anew, but is fundamentally altered.

“Pregnant,” I repeat, the word strange on my tongue. Foreign. Miraculous.

She nods, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Eight weeks. I confirmed it yesterday.”

A child. My child. Our child. The ghost who never thought he’d live long enough for revenge now stands on the precipice of fatherhood. The laugh that escapes me is raw, almost broken in its intensity.

“Are you happy?” Isadora asks, vulnerability flickering across her features.

In answer, I lift her off her feet, spinning her in a circle that sends sand flying. Her surprised laugh echoes off the rocks as I set her down carefully, suddenly aware of how precious the cargo she carries truly is.

“Happy doesn’t begin to cover it,principessa.”I drop to my knees before her, pressing my face against her still-flat stomach. Through the thin fabric of her sundress, I can feel her warmth—the same warmth that now nurtures our child. “I never thought I’d have this.”

Her fingers thread through my hair, nails scraping gently against my scalp in the way that makes me want to purr like a satisfied cat. “What? A family?”

“A future.” I look up at her, allowing her to see everything—the vulnerability I’ve only ever shown her, the love that sometimes terrifies me with its intensity. “For twenty years, I didn’t plan beyond vengeance. Then you happened.”

She tugs me to my feet, her hands framing my face. “We happened, Stefano. Both of us. Together.”

When her lips meet mine, I taste salt and sunshine and the faint sweetness of the gelato she had after lunch. My hands slide down her back, pulling her flushed skin against mine as the kiss deepens. Even now, after countless times making her mine, the hunger never abates. If anything, it grows stronger and more consuming with each passing day.

“Turn around.”

“Here?” she murmurs against my mouth as my hands find the hem of her dress. “What if someone sees?”

“Private beach.” I trail kisses down her throat, teeth grazing the spot that makes her gasp. “Private cove. And I need to taste you. Now.”

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