I must be high on birth hormones because I smile and say, “If you really want to, you can deliver our next baby.”
He grins. “I can’t wait. For the knocking up part or the delivery part.”
I nod at the baby. “You might change your mind about another one right away. He could give us all hell for the next twelve months.”
“This little angel? He would never.” Lorenzo holds out his arms for the baby and Salvatore puts him gently in the other man’s arms.
I drink my milky coffee and consider how spoiled I am to have four fathers to help me with the baby. They won’t all be here all the time, and I don’t know how useful they’ll be at feeding, changing, and bathing the baby, but seeing as they’re all keen for a big brood, they’ll learn. The next few weeks will be exhausting, but for now, I enjoy being waited on and called clever mama while they fuss over the baby.
I notice that Lorenzo’s gazing down at the baby, his eyes shinier than usual.
“Is everything okay?” I call to him.
“You sneaky bastard, Vinicius. You beat me to it,” Lorenzo whispers, smiling at the baby. “All my careful planning, and he’s yours.”
Vinicius sits up in surprise. “What? Are you serious?”
Lorenzo comes closer to the bed. “Look at his eyes.”
The baby has opened his eyes and they’re a bluish-gray color, but with distinctive shards of gold and green among the blue, in the same shades as Vinicius’ golden hazel eyes. In time, his eyes seem like they’ll turn even more hazel.
Salvatore bursts out laughing. “That’s the cherry on the sundae. Nice work, Vinicius.”
Vinicius rumples his hair back and forth, his smile delighted. “And I wasn’t even trying to win for a change.” He takes the baby in his arms and holds him close. “You sneaky little man, you take after your dad, don’t you? Clever and handsome.”
“What are we going to call him?” Cassius asks.
I’ve been running shortlists of names through my head and the men have been discussing—arguing—names back and forth, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to choose until I met the baby.
“Vitali,” I say. “Vitali Angeli Romano.” I look up at Vinicius and then the others to see what they think. “My children should all have the same last name because I want them to feel like full brothers and sisters, but your family names could be their middle names.”
Vinicius smiles and kisses me. “I think it’s lovely.”
“Vitali. It means life. That’s beautiful,” Cassius murmurs, stroking the baby’s cheek with his forefinger.
I don’t think it’s just lovely or beautiful, I think it’s perfect. Five of us have become six and we’re ready to move forward with the next part of our journey. We’re ready to begin.
Life starts now.
Bonus Chapter
This chapter took on a life of its own, so settle in. In many ways, it’s more of an extended epilogue than a bonus!
I got so many lovely messages about the bonus chapter included in Second Comes War. You guys have been telling me how much you enjoyed it and asking for more with Third Comes Vengeance. My answer was only if I can think of something good for them.
I’m happy to say I did! One morning I was going over the aftermath of the Black Orchid Murders in my mind and imagining how the boys coped during those awful months that occurred ten years before the end of this series. As you saw in the last book, and the chapter when Ginevra’s baby was born, Lorenzo was hella messed up after watching the videos of the murders. It made me wonder how he pulled himself out of that self-destructive hole he was in.
But he didn’t do it alone. In the Coldlake Syndicate, no one has to do anything alone if they don’t want to, which is why I love them so much. Vinicius was there for Lorenzo. Vinicius, who has always been in love with his harsh, violent, clever, “straight” best friend.
For extra atmosphere, listen to idfc by Blackbear as you read.
This bonus chapter contains hardcore MM and MMF content, so if that’s not your thing, give it a skip—though you might want read the non-smutty sections as they complete Chiara’s journey with the Coldlake Syndicate.
And don’t forget to grab your free download! There’s a link to Contestant: A Russian Mafia Reverse Harem Prologue Novella at the end. Pageant: A Russian Mafia Reverse Harem Romance is my next book and it’s coming Spring 2022.
Vinicius
Ten years ago
“Acid. Hey.”
“Hey,” Acid says on the other end of the phone line. I can hear how tired he is. Not physically tired.
Fed-fucking-up.
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “Is he there again?”
“Yeah. He caused a fight in the bounty bar. Things got smashed up. People got hurt.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure he pays for any damage and medical bills.”
“It’s not about the money,” Acid growls. “How many more times is this going to happen?”
I know it’s not about the money, but what else can I offer Strife? Their boss is circling the drain and I don’t know how to pull him out of this. I can’t stop Lorenzo from showing up there. Strife is in his quadrant, not mine. Acid talks like I should know how to pull Lorenzo out of this. A few months ago, Lorenzo was their take-no-prisoners boss who walked around with his head held high, ordered everyone to get in line or get the fuck out of western Coldlake. The Strife men hated the blond man for laying down his law at Strife, but over the months, I think they gained a grudging respect for Lorenzo.
Now they’re losing it again.
“I’ll come and get him.”
“Thanks,” Acid replies and hangs up.
I head for my car. It’s not like I haven’t got my own shit to deal with right now. Amalia’s death is a raw, bleeding wound in my heart. A part of my soul was ripped away when I learned that I’d never get my beautiful, broken sister back. Even when she was trapped within a prison of drugs and self-hatred, I hoped that one day I’d be able to pull her out of it. Death of hope is the cruelest grief of all.
When I reach Strife, Lasher and Zagreus are standing in front of the locked office upstairs, shoulder to shoulder. Big men, one blond, one dark, more than capable of beating a drunk Lorenzo to pulp and throwing him into the alleyway out back. If it were anyone else but Lorenzo causing trouble, they would have.
I begin apologetically, “He’s going through—”
Lasher waves a hand. “You don’t have to explain. We know why he’s like this, but Vinicius, if you could do something to help him we’d really appreciate it. Strife has enough on its plate with the gangs up our asses.”
“Sure,” I say, my throat so tight it’s burning. Fix my traumatized best friend who never listens to anyone, won’t talk about what he’s been through, and who never accepts help.
I’ll get right on that.
Inside the office, Lorenzo is passed out on the floor. A bruise is forming on his jaw. Someone gave him a good slug.
“Up. Come on, Lorenzo. Let’s go.” I haul his arm over my shoulder and pull him to his feet. He’s not blackout drunk yet and I’m able to walk him over to the door.