39

Chapter 39
Arin
Five Months Later
“You’ll never guess who called me yesterday asking for a private fitting with you,” Miriam all but squeals over the phone. “I’ll give you a guess. They call her Queen Bey.”
I nearly drop the stack of fabric samples I’ve been carrying. “Are you serious? Please, tell me you’re serious.”
“Deadly serious, honey. So what should I tell her?”
Ever since the incident, people have been theorizing non-stop about who I am and what the hell happened. Apparently, a handful of people witnessed me being thrown into a car at gunpoint. Even after I made a public statement that it was a prank gone wrong—it was the only way to keep the cops from asking too many questions—people weren’t quick to believe me. Especially not now that I’ve essentially gone into hiding, refusing to make public appearances and only working on orders out of Isabella’s winter home.
Miriam frankly loved the idea. “A reclusive designer of extraordinary talent is a narrative that sells itself,” she’d told me. “Your demand is going to skyrocket!”
After learning of Dominic’s fate, I decided I had to get out of New York. I packed everything I could and took Felicia with me. My daughter’s flourishing out here away from the concrete jungle, and I’m pretty sure her little brother growing in my belly appreciates the fresh air. It’s a peaceful existence, far from the spotlight and crime and chaos of the city that never sleeps.
“Tell her I’m booked out until January,” I say, my phone pinched between my ear and shoulder as I set my things down on my work desk. “I’m still working on the gowns Genevieve ordered for the Met Gala, so there’s a bit of a wait.”
“I don’t think this particular client is accustomed to waiting,” Miriam admits.
“I know, but you can’t rush art. Mrs. Carter would know that.” I flip through my sketchbook, admiring the dresses I’ll be busy making in the next few weeks. “How are things at the store on Fifth Avenue?”
“Everything’s looking good. We’ll be ready for the grand opening by the end of the month. There’s a lot of speculation as to whether or not you’ll be there.”
I smile even though I know she can’t see me. “The clothes should be the highlight of the event, not me. Besides, as my representative, I trust you’ll do the grand opening justice.”
“You flatter me,” Miriam says with a giggle. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to go.
That’s the other line. I’ll talk to you soon, babe.” “Talk to you soon.”
I set my phone down and take a deep breath. It’s only one in the afternoon, which means I won’t have to pick up Felicia from preschool for another two hours. I was intending on spending my day productively, but my brain’s been foggy lately, preoccupied with thoughts about the bun in my oven.
Isabella has basically given me free reign to do whatever I want to her winter home, even going so far as to add my name to the deed. I’ve been wanting to turn the room at the end of the hall into a nursery, but I’m as indecisive as ever when it comes to what color I want to paint the walls and where I should shop to buy all the things I’ll need to welcome my son into the world. I suppose I could always order everything online, but there’s something incredibly satisfying about going to a store and picking everything out in person.
Thud.
I turn around and frown. The sound came from somewhere near the front of the house. There’s plenty of wildlife in the area, so my initial thought is that it’s those pesky raccoons I’ve caught rummaging through our trash. I’m about to ignore it and go back to work when I hear another thud, thud.
That’s no raccoon. It sounds an awful lot like footsteps. Whatever it is, it’s on my front porch.
I remind myself to stay calm, though my time spent being the woman of a Mafia capo has taught me the importance of being alert and ready to fight if necessary. I’m all by myself out here.
Thud, thud, thud.
It seems like my unexpected guest is… pacing?
I grab the baseball bat out of the umbrella holder by the front door, holding it in front of me as I go to open it. I whip it open and shout, “Can’t you read the sign? It says no trespassing!”
“Arin, it’s me—”
I swing the bat before I can register his voice. It knocks him right in the ribs. The man keels over with a pained grunt. When our eyes lock, I’m in too much shock to worry about whether or not I’ve broken something.
“Dominic?” I choke.
My body is frozen where I stand as I stare at him.
He looks different. His hair is longer and he sports a thick, but well- trimmed beard. Gone are his iconic suits, exchanged for a simple black Henley and dark jeans. He looks leaner, like he hasn’t been eating as well as he used to, but there’s no denying he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
And he’s here. In the flesh. “Did you miss me, dolcez—”
I jab him in the gut with the tip of my baseball bat. “FUCK YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE DICKHEAD!”
“Arin, please, calm down,” he says hastily, rubbing his stomach with a grimace with one hand, holding the other out to me. “Let me explain.”
“Five months,” I roar at the top of my lungs. “Five months, Dominic! How could you let me think you were dead this whole time? Do you have any idea how heartbroken I was? Oh my God, I thought you—” I wheeze, I sob. I’m probably an ugly, hysterical mess, but I don’t give a damn. My hands tremble, my body is ice cold and flaming hot at the same time. “We had a funeral for you,” I whisper. My throat is so tight it burns.
Dominic steps forward and sweeps me up in his embrace, his strong arms very much like coming home. It’s almost ridiculous how easily I melt into his touch, clinging to him like a lifeline out in the middle of unforgiving seas. He smells just the way I remember; his skin is warm just the way I remember, his presence is calming just the way I remember.
Dominic presses kisses against my forehead, the top of my hair. “I’m sorry, dolcezza. I died a little every day that I couldn’t be with you.”
“But why? Why couldn’t you? What happened, Dom?”
“Let’s have this conversation inside, cuore mio. You’re shivering like
crazy.”
I nod, too overwhelmed to argue.
There’s no need for me to carry myself inside because Dominic does it for me, easily lifting me into his arms. He carries me bridal style over to the couch, allowing me to straddle his lap and hold him close. I bury my face against the crook of his neck, unwilling to give him even an ounce of space. The past few months have been unbearable without him. I’m not letting him out of my sight.
“Tell me,” I mumble against his skin. “Don’t you dare leave out any details.”
Dominic rubs my back in slow, soothing circles. He holds me just as tight as I hold him. “Death is the only way out of the life,” he starts, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “I realized something the day of your show. I’d been so distracted, trying to take control of my new position and getting used to my responsibilities as a capo. I didn’t realize how much of my time it was taking. As a result, it meant less time for you and Felicia.
“But that day… When we had our fight because you were worried I wouldn’t come… It made me realize I was putting my duties to the Family before the only real family I have. And when I learned Elio and Milo had taken you… I knew I had to make a change. I couldn’t just leave, though. That’s not how we work. So when those bastards wanted to blow up the warehouse, I saw an opportunity.”
“You faked your death,” I mumble.
Dominic nods. “It had to be convincing. Unfortunately, I had to deceive you as well. If anyone thought for even a moment that you were in on my plan, they would have kept looking.”
“So you let me grieve?” I smack him on the shoulder. “You dick.” “Believe me, I’m not happy about it, either. I can’t even begin to
apologize for the pain I’ve caused.”
I pull back a little, more than aware of how hot and swollen my eyes are from crying. “But why did it take so long? Why couldn’t you have tried to reach out?”
“I needed to wait to be declared officially deceased,” he says. He sounds a little too casual about it. “And the thing about being a dead person is that it’s very difficult to get anything done. No phone, no place to live, no access to my bank accounts. It was a hassle, but I finally managed to secure myself a new ID. See?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a driver’s license. I take it, turning it over to study it thoroughly. It’s incredibly convincing. From its design to its weight to his picture printed on the front. The only thing that catches my eye is his name.
“Dom Wilson?” I read aloud, a light warmth blooming in my chest. “You’re going by my last name now?”
“If you’ll allow it,” he says with a gentle smile.
I half-laugh, half-cry. My nerves are all jumbled up, but I don’t care.
When I’m with Dominic, I feel safe to let it all out. “Of course I’ll allow it.”
He runs his hands down my waist, then glances down, clearly noticing the weight gain. It’s not much yet, but it is noticeable. His eyes lift to mine, questioning.
I smile at him and nod. “I’m pregnant. I found out the same day I was told you were dead.”
“My dolcezza,” he whispers, his eyes filled with emotion. “Can I please kiss you now?”
“You don’t even have to ask.”
Dominic cups my face in his hands and dips in to slot his lips between mine. A perfect fit. Everything about him is familiar and wonderful. Our mouths meld together, we share the same heated breaths. It isn’t long before my hands comb through his hair, moving down to rake through his beard.
I giggle against his mouth. “Tickles.”
“Should I shave?” he muses, arms circling around my waist. “I really like it, actually. It’s very sexy.”
“What my woman wants, my woman gets.”
“If that’s the case…” I roll my hips against him, shivering at the sensation of his hard cock nudging my inner thigh. “Your woman wants to feel you inside her.”
His devilish grin sends heat pooling between my legs. “Anything for you, dolcezza.”