Page 155 of Mafia King of Lies

He raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I laugh. “Just trust me.”

He exhales, shaking his head but complying. We both close our eyes, and I count down. “Three… two… one.”

We dig into the cake, pulling out a slice, the sound of glass against porcelain the only noise in the room.

“Okay, are you in?” My voice shakes with anticipation.

“Yeah.” I can hear the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Okay.” My heart pounds as I peek open one eye, and the sight steals my breath.

Blue.

I gasp, and Matteo’s eyes snap open. He looks down at the glass of cake in his hand, at the unmistakable blue filling, and for the first time in months, his face truly lights up.

“A boy,” he whispers, as if he can’t quite believe it.

Tears prick my eyes as I nod. “A son.”

He sets the glass down and pulls me into his arms, his embrace firm and unwavering.

“Maria,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. “A son.”

I wrap my arms around him, feeling the weight of his grief lift—if only for a moment. This is exactly what we needed.

“We’re going to be okay,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his jaw. “All of us.”

Matteo pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes shining. “I swear to you, I will do everything to protect this family.”

His arms tighten around me, and I feel the tremor in his breath.

“Daniele would have been so happy,” he murmurs, voice breaking slightly.

I nod against his chest, blinking back tears. “He would have been the best big brother. I wish—” My voice catches, and I take a steadying breath. “I wish he could be here. But I know he’s looking on with joy in his heart over this moment.”

Matteo exhales sharply, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple. “I miss him every second.”

I lift my head, cupping his face in my hands. “Me too. But he lives on with us, amore. And he would want us to live—for you to live.”

His gaze softens, and for the first time in months, I see something beyond the sorrow—a quiet acceptance, a flicker of hope. He places his palm against my stomach once more, his fingers spread protectively over our growing child.

“A son,” he whispers again, as if grounding himself in the truth of it. “Our son.”

I lean into him, letting my forehead rest against his. “And he’s going to have the best father.”

Matteo kisses me deeply, pouring every unspoken word into the press of his lips. When we part, he holds my gaze, his voice unwavering.

“Forever and beyond, Maria?”

“Forever and beyond.”

There is no man I would rather face life with than him.

44

MATTEO

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