His Wicked Temptation

Epilogue

✈︎

fait avec amour
(m.) made with love

ROSABELLE

"Are you sure he's getting married, Belle? He's not playing a prank on you, is he?"

I shot my husband a skeptical glance as he asked, adjusting his shirt collar in front of the mirror, his figure standing tall beside me.

"He wouldn't joke about something like that, Emi," I countered. "Dad confirmed that Rafael is getting married. You don't think he would joke about it too, do you?"

He chuckled and shook his head in disagreement. "No, but you don't really know Rafe. You think you do, but that guy can say anything as a joke."

"Trust me when I say I agree with you, Emi. But it wasn't just Rafe's confirmation that convinced me; it was my dad's. I even got a direct call from papa about it."

I kissed his cheek when he was leading us out of our shared bedroom, and a mischievous smile crosses at the corner of his lips. "Still can't get enough of me, can you, Belle?"

I smirked in return. "No, you're almost irresistible tonight, babe." He let out a half-laugh at my response, pinning me against the wall before a second could pass. My breath caught in my throat as his arms encircled me. "Is our little one inside you making you cocky, huh?" His thumb gently traced my slightly rounded belly.

I nodded, inhaling his enticing scent.

It had been seven weeks since I became pregnant, and Emi was bluffing so much about having a child as if he was the only man on earth becoming a father. But I appreciated his enthusiasm.

His lips hovered near mine, but I turned my head away. He let out a disbelieving groan. "What the heck?"

"We're running late, Emi," I reminded him. "It's not a wedding ceremony next door. We have to catch a flight to another state in an hour, for goodness' sake."

"We don't need to rush, Belle," he protested, dipping his head once more to brush his lips against mine. "We can get there anytime."

I sighed into his kiss, chuckling a little. "Sometimes, it feels like I'm not the one dealing with pregnancy hormones."

"Trust me when I say I don't need pregnancy hormones to look at you and then want to fuck you right then and there." He playfully nibbled my lips, causing me to yelp.

"You're hopeless."

"True."

I smiled after we pulled apart, and Emi's eyes trailed over the emerald green skirt I was wearing. "Looking stunning as always, aren't we?" He smirked, winking before placing a hand on my waist as we descended the stairs.

"Right. We always look great, babe."

Honestly, the level of narcissism I've gained by being with Emi would take years for me to feel insecure again.

"Atta girl," he responded proudly. "By the way, what's the bride's name again?"

I turned to him to recall the name of the girl Rafael was marrying.

"Ah, it's Anastasia Rossi."

I couldn't believe my younger brother was going to be the first one to tie the knot.

Emi nodded in understanding and led us outside. His inked hand firmly holding mine, his black soul intertwined with mine.

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