You're dead to me

Chapter sixty-three: Getaway

Giovanni's POV:

In the early morning hours, I managed to plan everything out into the tiniest detail. I will do everything in my power to keep her, even if that means to run away. The last few weeks that turned into a month, where I kept Caroline close to me, isolated from the news, ran through a blurred sight and I had enough time to swallow my pride, all for her, all for the baby that's on the way. I called my driver at night and informed him, the flight is already in preparation.

It doesn't take long until Briar or someone else will reach out to her, that's why I told my people to keep an eye on that situation. She nearly discovered what I did and I won't have so much luck the next time. It was time to fight for what I love.

My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I opened the door and watch her. Her belly grows every minute into a healthy ball. Her blond hair lies on my pillow and she has a protective hand over her stomach. I smile, she's everything I searched for in my live.

She is my treasure.

She is the love of my live.

She's my wife.

I slowly wake her up and kiss her chest with wet lips. She grunts and looks up to me. "How late is it?".

"It's never too late". And I meant it.

***

It was hard to convince Caroline, but in the end she agreed. Now we are seated in my privat jet, high in the clouds. She wanted to call Briar, but I couldn't let her so near the threatened danger. After I over talked her into a mess of words, she gave in. She's already asleep again, her energy is based on a minimum for now. It's so different to see her like this, not dressed in weapons or in her favorite black uniform. When I first met here, she didn't even believed that she was capable of growing a human and now she does it all on her own.

I am so fucking proud of her.

A weird feeling corrupts my chest, I check the miles on the flashing screen. It's still forty five minutes till we land in France. Caroline never been outside of Italy, it makes me happy to show her the world, show her things she never saw before.

My thumb grazes the freshly stitched tattoo on my wrist, it is not even seeable. My arms and hands are already covered in black ink and I just had this tiny space for another tattoo. My chest lifts up heavy, there are so many promises that need to be made, all for her to not see me as the villain in her story.

The tattoo reaches barely my finger but the word is perfectly stitched in thin cursive letters.

It is the name of my daughter.