Chapter 10 - The Twin Hearts
Seven months later.
May sun poured through the massive bay windows of the master bedroom in the Greenwich estate. The breeze coming off Long Island Sound carried the sweet scent of blooming lilac and fresh salt air.
The room was filled with soft blue light, white roses, and the quiet, steady hum of a pediatric monitor.
I lay in the center of the massive king-sized bed, wearing a soft cream silk robe, resting against a mountain of plush pillows.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress beside me was Adrian.
He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and dark trousers, his suit jackets long discarded. In his massive, tattooed arms, he held two tiny, blanket-wrapped bundles with an exquisite, terrifying gentleness.
Two little baby boys.
Leo Adrian Moretti, born six minutes before his brother, weighing five pounds and eight ounces.
And Alexander Claire Moretti, born six minutes later, weighing five pounds and six ounces.
Both boys had thick, dark hair, tiny button noses, and bright, curious gray eyes that looked exactly like their father's.
"They look like you," I whispered softly, leaning my head against Adrian's broad shoulder, watching our sons yawn in unison.
"God help them," Adrian murmured rasply, a gentle, breathtaking smile illuminating his dark features.
He turned his head, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to my temple.
Over the past seven months, the Moretti empire had been entirely transformed. Antonio was serving a life sentence in a federal maximum-security prison without the possibility of parole. The illegitimate branches of the family enterprise had been systematically dismantled or sold off, leaving Moretti Capital as a clean, legitimate global investment firm.
And Adrian had not spent a single night away from my side.
When I wanted to move back to Brooklyn, he bought the entire row of historic brownstones on my street and converted them into a private, tree-lined sanctuary. When I suffered from swollen ankles during the third trimester, the man who ran a forty-billion-dollar empire sat on the floor for hours every night, gently massaging my feet with lavender oil.
We hadn't signed new marriage papers yet. We didn't need to.
The piece of paper that had once bound us together was gone; in its place was an unshakeable, fierce devotion forged in fire, blood, and redemption.
A quiet knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Marco stepped into the room, wearing a relaxed linen shirt, holding two small silver rattles tied with blue satin ribbons.
"Don Moretti, Miss Bennett," Marco said softly, bowing his head with a warm smile. "The Commission elders have sent their congratulations from Italy. And the security detail for the summer estate in Martha's Vineyard is fully prepared for your arrival next month."
"Thank you, Marco," Adrian said, not taking his eyes off the two tiny sleeping faces in his arms. "Tell the elders that Moretti Capital is taking a six-month paternity leave."
Marco chuckled quietly. "Understood, Boss."
He set the silver rattles on the side table, gave us a respectful nod, and closed the door softly behind him.
The bedroom fell into a serene, peaceful quiet, broken only by the soft, rhythmic breathing of our two sons.
Adrian shifted slightly, carefully resting the twins in the wooden double crib stationed beside our bed. He walked back to the edge of the mattress, sliding under the duvet beside me, pulling me into his arms, resting his hand over my heart.
"What are you thinking about, Claire?" he murmured against my hair, his chest warm and solid against my back.
I turned in his arms, looking up into those storm-gray eyes that had once frightened me, but now held nothing but endless warmth, devotion, and home.
"I was thinking about that day at Mount Sinai," I whispered, reaching up to gently trace the sharp line of his jaw. "About the sound of their heartbeats through the examination room door."
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Adrian smiled—a real, radiant smile that reached his eyes—and brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles one by one.
"That wasn't just the sound of their heartbeats, my love," Adrian whispered, pressing his lips gently against mine in a long, sweet promise. "That was the sound of my life beginning."
