Page 157 of Brutal Heir
I don’t.
Minutes, or maybe hours later, we fall together like we’re breaking and rebuilding in the same breath, like every piece of us is finally locking into place. When she cries out my name, I swear my heart shatters and remakes itself in the shape of her.
I can’t breathe and yet I’ve never felt more complete.
Once our ragged pants have subsided, I roll her on top of me, our legs tangled in the sheets. My cock is still happily buried between her thighs, ready to go again and again. But I don’t dare push. Her head is on my chest, my hand stroking lazy circles along her spine.
“I think we just ruined the sheets,” she murmurs.
I laugh, breathless and stupid in love. “We’ll get new ones. Hell, I’ll buy a whole linen company if you want.”
She lifts her head, grinning sleepily.
“You’re okay? Your stitches didn’t?—”
“I’m fine, Ale. Perfect, actually.” She presses a kiss to my lips. “And I’m going to guess you enjoyed it too since it feels like you’re ready to go again.”
“You know I’m always ready for you, Red.”
Her smile is truly radiant. “You really meant it, huh?”
“What?”
“The vows. The promises. The forever.”
I tip her chin up and kiss her again, slow and deep.
“Every single word.”
EPILOGUE
Matteo
The Velvet Vault is alive tonight. Music thrums through the floorboards, laughter echoes off the brick walls, and the warm glow of low lights glints off whiskey glasses raised in toast after toast. Our family has always been loud, but tonight, we’re loud in the best way. No guns. No blood. No Quinlans or vendettas. Just us. Alive.
And celebrating.
Because Alessandro Rossi, my cousin, my brother in every way that matters, is back on his throne. Scars and all.
I watch him now from across the bar, leaning against a pillar with a whiskey in hand as I take in the scene. He’s laughing, really laughing, as Rory swats him with a cocktail napkin for some smartass comment he made. She’s glowing, hair loose around her shoulders, green eyes bright as emeralds under the soft lights. There isn’t a hint of the pain she’s endured in her smile. She’s fully healed from that gunshot meant for my cousin, and damn, if it doesn’t make her even more dangerous.
Ale bends and presses a kiss across Rory’s ribs, right over where the scar hides beneath silk. She touches the jagged scar on his jaw in return, and for a moment, it’s like the world stills around them.
Merda, why am I getting so emotional all of a sudden? Shoving it back, I plaster on my typical smirk and take another sip.
Rory’s also wearing the biggest rock I’ve ever seen outside of a Brinks truck, the emerald ring catching the light every time she waves her hand while telling a story to Isabella. The girls are helping Rory and Ale plan their ‘real wedding’ despite Serena’s irritation about stealing her thunder.
Across the room, Serena is trying to keep Antonio from getting into an arm-wrestling match with Raf, who’s pretending to be unimpressed while flexing just to piss off his brother. Isabella moves to perch on Raf’s lap, rolling her eyes as she steals a sip from his drink, while Alessia is behind the bar, shaking up a cocktail like she owns the place—because, well, she basically does.
It’s chaos, but it’s our chaos.
Alessandro catches my eye and raises his glass. I raise mine back, and for a moment, there’s just this silent acknowledgment between us. We made it. We survived. We’ve both crawled out of darkness and fire, and we’re still here.
He leans down to say something in Rory’s ear, and she laughs, turning her face up for a kiss. He gives it to her like there’s no one else in the world. The king and his queen, in every sense of the word.
“Are you brooding over here, Matty?” Serena’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she saunters over, a smirk playing on her lips. “Or just plotting which poor woman to traumatize next?”
“Fuck off, Sere,” I grumble, sipping my drink. “I’m having a moment.”
