Wild Heart-Bonus Scene

Six years later…

“Crayons are for drawing on paper, Sofia, not walls.”

Isabella gently takes the crayon out of the hands of our two-year-old, who fixes her mamma with a frown. She swipes for the crayon, but with more patience then I ever imagined my fiery wife to have, Isabella expertly catches Sofia’s wrist and gently guides her toward the crayon box.

“Come on, Sofia. Let’s get a cloth and you can help me clean this off. We need to get this place looking good for Nonno.”

I’m bouncing Marco on my knee, but he slides off to follow his mamma, helping her as she wipes the crayon off the wall.

At five, our oldest trails his mother around everywhere. I’ve tried to get him interested in bikes, but all he wants to do is draw pictures and be with his mamma. I can’t say I blame him.

I trail after Isabella everywhere too.

Her heels clack on the floor as she stalks through the clubhouse. With a toddler on her hip and Marco trailing behind and the round belly of our boy who’s due in a few months, she struts around like she owns the place.

“Is that venison in the smoker yet, Marcus?” she calls as she passes the open door.

“Yes, signora.”

The men love being bossed around by my wife almost as much as I do.

“How are the salads coming, ladies?”

I follow my wife into the kitchen, reeling at the cacophony of noise. Above the noises of women chatting and the swish of knives slicing tomatoes, there’s the sound of children laughing and squabbling. A baby, I’m not sure whose, cries as Trish bounces it on her hip.

“Slow down!” she calls after Rose, who’s being chased by Travis and Kendra’s oldest. The cheeky lad snatches a cupcake from the cooling rack as he runs past.

I back out of the kitchen. I was hoping to steal a moment alone with my wife, but it’s chaos in there.

Through the hole in the door, I watch as she speaks with Maggie. She sets Sofia down with the other toddlers playing with plastic toys in the corner. Then she rolls up her sleeves, nodding as Maggie instructs her in the rolling of pastry.

Isabella might rule the clubhouse alongside me, but the kitchen is Maggie’s domain.

The women love her as much as the men. There’s friction sometimes, like with any family. But mostly they’re happy for her to take charge, and today especially no one questions her orders.

Not when her father is joining us for a club dinner.

 Arlo comes in to tell me Carlo Berone and his entourage have arrived. My men have gotten used to Isabella’s powerful father, but it’s always a little tense having the mafia over for dinner.

I venture into the kitchen to tell Isabella.

“Your father’s here.”

Marco leaps up from where he’s playing with Legos in the corner, and his sister toddles after him.

I scoop her up, and she squeals as I hoist her onto my shoulders.

By the time Carlo is out of his car, we’re gathered out back to greet him. He shakes my hand, squeezing it a little tighter than necessary. I don’t think he’ll ever stop trying to lock me into a power struggle. I don’t mind. I let him have it. I’ve got the only prize I ever wanted.

He expression softens when his granddaughter holds out her chubby arms to him.

“Nonno.”

He takes her into his arms and at the same time Marco tugs at him, wanting to be lifted up.

He scoops them both into his arms, making silly faces at Sofia.

His men stand a little apart, always watchful as they scan the parking lot. But Carlo knows he has nothing to fear here.

Carlo has chilled out in the six years since I married his daughter. At first, he tried to push her security detail onto the clubhouse, but I soon let him know that’s not how we operate. Isabella wants her freedom, and that’s what I give her.

Sure, she never goes anywhere without an escort, but when the escort is your husband, she doesn’t seem to mind.

Perhaps it’s because the Berone family have wound down their business interests in the last few years, or because Carlo’s finally realized most of his enemies are imaginary, or perhaps it’s the new young wife he’s taken who finally chilled him out. Whatever the reason, he’s less uptight and more relaxed these days.

“Raiden, I’m keen to try this award winning beer of yours.”

We step into the clubhouse, and my arm goes around my wife as we lead our guests into the restaurant.

Rose runs past and tags Marco and he takes off after her, dodging between the tables, laughing at whatever game they’re playing.

“Slow down,” one of the women calls. I’m not sure which. Everyone minds everyone else’s kids here. The kids keep running, and it’s not until Isabella strides in that they stop.

My wife loves being a mother, but she’s not the gentle mother that she remembers from her childhood. She’s energetic and fun and the kids love her, but she’s still fiery. When she says stop, they stop, scared of what will happen if they don’t. Wise children.

Travis gets to talking with Carlo about their prize winning beer, and I use the opportunity to slide my arm around my wife. I draw her aside and kiss her plump lips, as irresistible as the day I first saw her.

“What’s that for, biker?”

She runs the tips of her fingernails over my chest in a way that drives me crazy.

“Just reconnecting with my wife and remembering how lucky I am.”

She fixes me with a radiant smile. “We’re both lucky, Raiden.”

She nestles against me and sighs in contentment.

Around us, the club hums with life. Happy kids, laughing women, and men deep in conversation. It’s more than I ever dreamed I’d have.

Our lives are full, and I’m thankful for it every day.