ARELLA (A Mafia Story)

Twenty-Four

The baby wiggles in her seat upon hearing about the dog. She's a animal lover through and through. It makes me want to get her a pony. Where I would keep a pony in the middle of our New York City penthouse, I don't know.

Where there's a will there's a way. If she ever even hinted wanting a pony, she would have it with the snap of my fingers.

Arella reaches down and grabs her nub, stroking the scar from her surgery with her tiny fingers. She point to the scar, then points to my chest. Such a smart little thing.

"Yes, Daddy has a scar like you now. Just in a different place. It makes us special. You have one on your nubby and Daddy has one on his chest."

The baby continues her happy wiggling, her hand still touching her nub. She giggles and grabs Freya's hand with the hand that's not holding her nub, putting my wife's hand on her head.

"You want me to rub your head?" Freya inquires.

Arella nods and flutters her eyes shut when my wife's manicured nails start scratching her scalp. Such a spoiled baby. She has her Mama scratching her head and her Daddy wrapped around her finger. As it should be.

"Sir, we're here." Our driver announces, pulling into our underground garage.

Security surrounds our car before we can even open the door. They've been on high alert since I've been shot. Andrea told me there was always a guard standing outside my hospital door while I was admitted.

I'll have to personally thank that soldier for that. He kept myself and my family safe while I was unconscious.

My car door is pulled open and I unbuckle myself, stepping out while my chest flares with pain. Grunting, I straighten while Freya pulls Arella out.

The baby instantly holds her arms out towards me. Freya tries to pull her back, all to no avail. Sighing, I pull Arella out of my wife's arms before she can stop me. No hospital is going to tell me I can't hold my baby.

She's so light and not even a strain on my body.

"Damon, I swear to god. If you pop open that wound again, I'm going to fucking kill you." Freya states through gritted teeth.

Not wanting to start any fights or arguments, I hand the baby back to Freya, much to Arella's displeasure. She glares at me like I'm a traitor.

I've heard that threat about two dozen times these past few days. I'm honestly just waiting on it at this point. Just thinking about Freya covered in my blood has me rock hard.

Maybe I should go to therapy? These thoughts aren't very good. Too bad. I'm a fool for my woman. She could do no wrong in my eyes. That includes killing me.

"You're thinking with the wrong head right now, handsome." Freya smirks, her eyes going down to look at my erection tenting my pants.

Clearing my throat, I think about anything to calm myself. Reaching down, I adjust myself while I think about all the work I have to do.

By the time the elevator is at our penthouse, I'm completely flaccid again. Work always makes me soft.

I step off the elevator, nodding to the pair of guards that's protecting our front door with large rifles strapped across their chests. They bow their heads in respect, stepping back to let me through.