Bound by my blood

Chapter fourty-five

2 years later:
Whitby, North Yorkshire

I rest my cheek against Ameena's warm shoulder, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as we watch Gio and Zeke engaged in a spirited game with Carina and Aricia in the sun-drenched yard. On my other side, Elisa stands silently, her gaze filled with an unspoken warmth.

Elisa's once pale skin now radiates a serene golden glow, a testament to her decision to remain in sunny Syria. The transformation gives her an ethereal quality, amplifying her beauty to almost goddess-like levels. Despite the distance, our brief exchanges through burner phones kept me connected, offering glimpses into her life as she evaded those searching for her in Sicily. Although most might overlook the subtle shift in her demeanour, I notice it— the way a glimmer of happiness dances in her eyes, and how she seems more open to affection than before. Perhaps it's the presence of her daughter, Aricia, or the gentle influence of her fiancé, Zeke Dagher.

Their relationship still puzzles me; they had barely tolerated each other before I left Syria, yet he has seamlessly embraced the role of Aricia's father figure, pouring himself into the newfound bond. Ava delights in the fact that Zeke treats Aricia like she is truly his own, and I can't help but think that, in his eyes, she isn't merely the president's child but someone precious to him.

"When do you think the food will be ready? I'm starving! Can't you go tell your husband to hurry up?" Ameena complains, her voice laced with playful annoyance as she keeps her attention fixed on her daughter.

Elisa shoots us a teasing grin, her mischievous glint illuminating her striking features. "Ameena, why don't you go and do it?"

"You know why! That motherfucker is terrifying when he speaks his spaghetti language," Ameena frowns, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, bumping me off her shoulder.

"You do realize we all speak that 'terrifying spaghetti language', right?" Elisa smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You speak it too, along with your husband and child!"

"Oh, hush. I only speak a little of your pasta language, so it hardly counts! Besides, Gio can be intimidating too. It's a bonus in the—"

"Fine, I'll ask, but only because you're my guests," I interrupt, stifling a laugh as the friendly banter around us continues.

A year ago, on the anniversary of Jax's death, Vince surprised me with a charming holiday cottage in the UK. He had discovered my old diary filled with sketches of my dream home and embarked on a quest to find the perfect match. The moment he unveiled it, my heart swelled with gratitude, especially seeing the photo wall in my office adorned with cherished memories of Jax, my family, and my friends. I suspected it was my mother's idea, but that thought only added to the warmth of the gesture.

The cottage is immense, with ample spare bedrooms, which enabled me to invite my family to spend the summer with us.

With a careful waddle, I make my way into the kitchen, where Vince looks up instantly as I push the heavy wooden door open. His brow furrows in concern.

"Are you and my little watermelon alright?" he asks, glancing down at the pile of freshly chopped carrots. Instinctively, I rub my bump, a comforting habit I've developed, and hum softly in response.

"We are, but I wish you would stop calling him that."

"What? I'm right; he's the size of a watermelon right now," he chuckles, and I playfully nudge him.

He catches my wrist, drawing me closer, and teases, "Ah ah ah," before he places soft, fleeting kisses along my jaw, neck, and collarbone. I gasp lightly, feeling a delightful shiver run through me.

"Maybe you should teach me a lesson," I whisper, my breath hitching as he playfully nibbles at my bare shoulder, his touch igniting a warmth within me.

"Don't tease me. You have some lessons waiting for when our angel decides to make his grand entrance," Vince replies with a teasing smirk, and I release a breathy moan just as he steps back, the momentary closeness lingering in the air.

"Why did you come in here, guaio?" he queries, a playful glint in his eye.

"Ameena wants to know when the food will be ready, and she's a little scared of you," I say, laughing. "I still don't get why you're like a big, cuddly teddy bear to me."

"I am not! Did you forget that I run one of the largest mafias in the world?" he defends, a mock seriousness lacing his tone. I roll my eyes, a smile creeping across my face. As if I could ever forget with his devoted men and women constantly hovering around our home back in Sicily.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I shrug playfully, leaning over to snag a nacho from the table. Vince watches me with narrowed eyes as I dip it into the salsa, relishing the taste as I shove the whole thing in my mouth.

"I spent ages perfecting that stupid salsa," he states, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed.

"It tastes great! You did well, lover. I still don't understand why you're so adamant about doing this alone, though," I compliment, reaching for another chip with the same eager enthusiasm.

"They're guests, and at this stage in your pregnancy, you should be resting. Plus, I want you to spend time with your family since you barely see them throughout the year," he replies gently. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and capture his lips in a tender kiss. He responds immediately, encircling me in his arms, our mouths exploring each other in the comforting familiarity of our bond.

"I love you, but sometimes you can be ridiculous," I whisper when I finally pull back, looking into his warm eyes.

"I love you too, guaia," he replies softly, a smile curling his lips.

I wait in the kitchen until the food is finally ready, and we work together to serve it to my family and friends, laughter and love filling the air.

Everything is beginning to fall beautifully into place, and I feel as though I have finally carved out my own path in this world. Despite all the challenges we've faced, I wouldn't change a single moment of what has unfolded in these past few years. 

And to think all of this happened because I was bound by my blood and I couldn't be more grateful.

— — —

The end.

I hope everyone enjoyed Bound by my blood. I certainly enjoyed writing it and following Vince and Alexandria.

I hopefully will be posting an epilogue before the new year so if anyone's got name suggestions for a baby boy I would love to hear them in the comments!

Merry Christmas (to those who celebrate it) and happy new year!

Thanks for reading Bound by my blood and sticking with it this year. I am so grateful for you all and love you so much.

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Bye 👋