His Tesoro: An Arranged Marriage Age Gap Mafia Romance (Empire of Royals Book 1)
His Tesoro: Epilogue

I woke as the bed shifted. The early morning light was barely peeking through the curtains, and Sofiya was going to the bathroom again.

I forced myself to stay in bed. She’d already yelled at me twice this week when I tried to follow her into the bathroom. But what if she got dizzy and fell? My chest tightened, and I bolted upright in bed just as Sofiya walked back into the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, husband, I survived the toilet.” She rolled her eyes as she said it, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. She looked so gorgeous. Her hand supported her round belly, which was covered in a soft, lacy nightgown. Her cheeks were rosy and the morning light made her messy hair glow, just like it had on our wedding day.

She was perfection.

I guided her into bed with her back to my chest, arranged her pregnancy pillow between her legs, and wrapped my arms around her.

“Merry Christmas, tesoro,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the greatest gift of my life.” I ran my hand down her stomach, holding her close. She was just a few weeks away from giving birth, and I couldn’t wait to meet our baby.

My daughter.

We were having a girl, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled and terrified. I hoped she looked exactly like my beautiful wife.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, covering my hand with hers and giving it a squeeze.

I breathed in her sweet floral scent, enjoying these last moments of it just being the two of us.

I dozed off, content to have this slow morning before chaos descended on our home. I was woken by my little wife grinding her ass on my rapidly hardening cock.

I pressed my smile into her hair. She’d been especially horny these past few months.

“Matteo.” My name on her lips was everything.

“Yes, tesoro.” I ran my hand down her belly until I was cupping her pussy. “I’m here.”

“I’m so glad you’re with me,” she said. “No one else I’d rather live life with.”

My heart squeezed as I raised her nightgown and lowered my boxers, gently slipping into her wet cunt. She’d had more dislocations during the pregnancy, so I made my movements torturously slow as I thrust in and out. My hand wandered across her soft skin, soaking in her warmth as I gave her sensitive nipple a soft squeeze. She moaned, reaching back to clutch at whatever part of me she could grab.

“That’s my good girl.” She tightened around me as little whimpers slipped through her lips. “I love you, tesoro. So fucking much.”

She shook as her orgasm washed over her. “I love you,” she said, repeating the words over and over.

I wrapped myself around her as I came. I never tired of filling her with my cum or of holding her close like this. She was the most important person in my life, the center of my universe.

“I have something for you to open before we have breakfast,” Sofiya said as she rolled over to the tree and grabbed a red and gold striped package.

“I have a pile of gifts you can open before breakfast,” I responded. I had wanted her to open all her presents last night. Actually, I’d been pestering her to open presents since December first, but she said that wasn’t how it was done.

As if I cared. I shouldn’t have to wait for a certain day to spoil my wife.

She fixed me with a stern look and Noodle did the same as he swung his head toward me. I sighed, unable to argue with them, and walked over to grab my present. I tore the wrapping and found a bright red sweater with a deformed something on the front.

I furrowed my brow trying to figure out what the fuck I was holding.

“Do you like it? Sienna and I have been learning how to crochet and I made that for you.”

Years of training as Don allowed me to keep my face blank. Sofiya looked so happy I didn’t have the heart to tell her the sweater was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked, her eyes shining with hopefulness.

I leaned down and gripped her chin. “I’m honored you would make this for me, tesoro.”

She smiled into my kiss. “Well, try it on! I used one of your shirts to get the size right, so hopefully I measured correctly.”

I gritted my jaw before pulling it over my head. At least the material was soft, and she had gotten the fit mostly correct.

“Okay, it might be a little bit too cropped,” she said, tugging at the bottom of the sweater. “But you look great.”

I eyed her Christmas sweater. It was pale blue with snowflakes on it and looked decidedly store-bought. “You didn’t make one for yourself?”

“I didn’t have time.” She brushed her hand down the front of her sweater. “Sienna got this one for me.”

“Well, you look stunning, as always.”

“Such a flatterer. I need to get started on breakfast.”

Sofiya had insisted we have cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning just because they were my favorite.

My sister, Romeo, and I usually got Chinese takeout on Christmas Day and got drunk while watching whatever shitty holiday movie Sienna forced on us. Sofiya had never had a real Christmas and said she wanted to create new traditions for our new family. It wasn’t like I could refuse her anything, so we’d gone all out—a real tree, a shit-ton of presents, and Christmas music playing through the speakers.

Sofiya took the cinnamon rolls she’d started last night out of the fridge. “Will you get me the powdered sugar, miliy?”

I grabbed the canister out of one of the upper cabinets and set it on the counter, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. She leaned back against my chest.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked. “I can finish this if you tell me what to do.”

I wouldn’t mind if she just stayed in my arms until she had this baby. And then for several months after.

“I’m feeling good, promise.”

There was a knock on the door and Sienna poked her head in. “Are you two done with your morning lovemaking?”

“I swear to fucking God,” I said, running my hand down my face. “Why did we invite them?”

“Come in!” Sofiya shouted before fixing me with her fierce gaze. “Because they’re family and we’re all going to have a cozy Christmas morning together.”

Sienna came into the living room, her arms filled with Christmas packages. “Romeo is bringing the rest.” She set them all down under the tree—the tall, magnificent tree that rivaled the one at Rockefeller Center with ugly homemade decorations Sofiya had insisted we all make over the past weeks. The endless hot glue and glitter had all been worth it when I heard she’d turned Angelo’s poker night into a Christmas crafting evening. It was impossible to say no to my wife. They’d never stood a chance.

At least craft night had prevented her from adding more to her considerable poker debt. I kept forgetting to ask Angelo how much Sofiya owed. She still didn’t realize the chips represented actual money, and I didn’t want to ask Angelo in front of her and upset her. I would give everything I owned to make her happy, and if poker night was it, I would pay whatever it took.

Romeo and Angelo walked in, arms laden with presents. They dropped them by the tree, and Sienna told them off for their “lack of finesse and style.” The two of them rolled their eyes and joined us in the kitchen while Sienna rearranged the gifts.

Angelo rubbed his hands together as he peered at the cinnamon rolls in the oven. He’d put on at least ten pounds since I married Sofiya. Not that I had a leg to stand on—I’d been forced to add an extra workout to my week with all the sweets my wife made.

“What are you wearing?” Romeo asked me, a glint of laughter in his eyes.

“A beautiful sweater made by my wife,” I said before he could say another word. No one would insult my Sofiya.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Romeo,” Sofiya said. “Miliy, can you get those three packages from the top of the pile?”

I did what she asked, grinning as I handed Romeo and Angelo packages that felt suspiciously like sweaters. The third package had a tag on it that said “To Noodle, from Mama.”

Fuck, she was cute.

“Come here, Noodle,” I called out. The dog looked at Sofiya as if asking permission before leaving her side and trotting over to me. I gave him the present and he took it gently in his mouth, looking at me with a confused expression. “You’re supposed to tear it open,” I told him. He just wagged his tail. I took the gift back with a huff and then unwrapped it. “What the fuck?” I stared at the sweater Sofiya had crocheted for the dog.

“What’s wrong?” Sofiya asked.

I took the dog sweater and headed into the kitchen. “Why does the dog’s sweater look absolutely perfect?” It was dark green with white trim and even rows of pom-poms sewed onto it.

Sofiya gave me a mischievous smile. “I made his last, so I’d had a lot of practice. But… are you saying you think your sweater is bad?”

“Don’t even start with me,” I said, prowling towards her. She was sitting next to the oven on her rollator, her cheeks rosy, the smell of cinnamon heavy in the air. “I think you did this on purpose because you know I’ll never refuse to wear something you made for me.”

“I would never be so diabolical, husband.” There was a little glint in her eye.

I shook my head. “Of course not, wife.”

She pulled me down for a kiss and nipped my lower lip. “Now that you’re here, want to pull these out of the oven for me?”

She took Noodle’s sweater out of my hands and moved out of the way. I pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and then turned around to see Romeo, Angelo, and Noodle all standing in a row, wearing their Christmas sweaters. Sienna was off to the side, covering her mouth and looking suspiciously like she was holding in laughter.

Sofiya clapped. “I need a picture of all my boys together.”

“They’re not all your boys,” I growled.

“We’re men, not boys,” Romeo added. He crossed his arms, which only highlighted the mess of green tinsel on his sweater.

“Well, whoever you are, stand by the tree so I can take a picture,” she demanded before starting towards the living room with her rollator. I let out a frustrated sound and grabbed her wheelchair.

“You’re only supposed to use the rollator when you’re baking.”

I had plans to renovate the entire kitchen so it was wheelchair-friendly, but Sofiya had said we were not doing construction while she was in “nesting mode,” whatever that meant. I thought it was absolutely absurd. Sienna had already chosen the contractor and designed the renovation, so we were all set once Sofiya gave us the green light. She was in too much pain these days to use her rollator for more than brief periods, and she’d been getting dizzy more frequently.

Once she was in her wheelchair, I gripped her chin and mouthed “naughty girl.” Her cheeks flushed beautifully.

We all moved in front of the Christmas tree and Sofiya took photos of “her boys.” Then she and Sienna instructed us into all sorts of formations and combinations. I didn’t mind, as long as I got to be next to my wife.

I found I minded nothing as long as she was by my side.

“I’m not sure poker is a very traditional Christmas activity,” I said, chewing my lip.

We’d finished our Christmas dinner and were all too full to immediately eat dessert. Matteo had grumbled when he found out I had made everyone’s favorites—tiramisu for Angelo, cannolis for Romeo, funfetti cake for Sienna, and chocolate chip cookies for my husband. He wanted me to stay reclined in bed with people waiting on me hand and foot for the last weeks of my pregnancy, but I was feeling good. The exhaustion I’d felt in my first and second trimesters had finally dissipated, and I was filled with the urge to take care of everyone and nest.

“It’s not,” Sienna said. “But I’ve heard all about your skills and need to see it for myself.”

“It’s festive if we drink mulled wine while we play,” Romeo said.

“Or hot chocolate,” Angelo added, raising his eyebrows at me.

I grinned. “If you all are so desperate to lose, I guess I can’t refuse.” I squeezed Matteo’s hand. “Are you going to play, husband? Please?”

“If it will force you to stay fucking seated, fine.”

I grinned, leaning over to give him a kiss on his cheek. It was prickly with stubble. “So cranky.”

“Yeah, Matteo, stop being so cranky,” Romeo said.

Matteo rolled his eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“How are you doing this?” Matteo looked at me across the table, absolutely bewildered.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. “I’m rather good, aren’t I?”

“Have you been winning games all this time? I thought you didn’t know they were playing with actual money. I was getting ready to pay off your debts before the poker club came after you.”

I snorted a laugh. “Your lack of faith in me is astounding. How much have I won now, Angelo? I think it’s around thirty thousand.”

“Sounds about right, bella.”

Matteo ran his hand down his face. “Well, shit.”

“It’s enough to start my new non-profit.”

My husband got up with a huff and rounded the table.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I cried out. He ignored me and lifted me off my chair, sat down himself, and arranged me on his lap. “This is cheating,” I protested, trying to shield my cards from him.

“I fold, tesoro. I can’t lose all of my money to you.”

I rolled my eyes, but snuggled into his chest as the rest of us continued the game.

“What non-profit are you starting?” he asked, lips skimming the shell of my ear.

“I want to convert some apartments into housing for women who have been sex trafficked. So people like Katya and Stasya can have a home.” I’d worked with Dr. Amato to set up housing and jobs for the two girls, as well as a monthly allowance so they never had to worry about money, but I wanted to expand to help more women. I’d been working with Matteo to dismantle the remaining sex rings Arben and my father had run. It made me sick to think that someone I was related to had caused such suffering.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Matteo said. Then a scowl overtook his face. “As long as you don’t push yourself too hard. You need to rest, and the baby is almost here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of help.”

“In that case, I’ll donate an apartment building to the charity.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What apartment building?”

Matteo shrugged. “There are plenty in the city. Take your pick.”

I rolled my eyes, but my chest filled with warmth. His easy acceptance and support of my plan meant everything. I pressed my lips to his ear. “You are so getting a blow job tonight.”

He grunted and tightened his hold on my hips.

When it was time for the remaining players to show our cards, I laid mine down with a smile. “Royal flush.”

Angelo swore and pushed back from the table. “You’re counting cards, aren’t you? That has to be it.”

Sienna snorted as she looked between the disgruntled men. “Pretty sure that’s blackjack, not poker.”

Matteo’s chest shook with laughter. “Didn’t know you were such a sore loser, Angelo.” He kissed my cheek. “Now you have another ten grand to add to your charity.”

“Yes, thank you all for your donations,” I said.

Romeo’s usually bright countenance was cranky. “I’m getting my fucking cannoli,” he said, heading into the kitchen.

Sienna looked at the two men with delight. “Seeing them like that is worth losing.” She got up from the table. “Let’s bring all the dessert in here.”

“I should help them,” I said, trying to get out of Matteo’s lap.

“You should not,” was the only thing he said in response.

I let out a little noise as Baby kicked especially hard. She was destined to be a dancer or runner with how strong her legs were.

Matteo pressed his hand to my stomach, his face softening as he felt her move.

“Next Christmas we’ll have an almost-one-year-old,” I murmured.

“I can’t wait.”

I teared up at the sincerity in his voice. All those years of being so alone and unloved had brought me here—to my new family.

Everyone returned to the room and arranged the desserts on the table. Matteo made my plate first, putting one of every dessert on it. Our gifts to each other were strewn across the room, including ones from Mila, Nikolai, Leona, and Ronan. Noodle nudged my hand, begging for pets.

I couldn’t have dreamed up a better Christmas. But that was my life now—living days that were even better than my dreams.