CHAPTER 88: MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS AND MORNING KISSES

It started with a jar of pickles at two in the morning. Aria hadn’t even realized she was hungry until she woke up with a strange ache in her stomach and a vivid dream of biting into something crunchy and sour. She sat up in bed, groggy but restless, staring at the ceiling for a good minute before whispering into the dark, "Pickles."

Beside her, Luca stirred, his voice rough from sleep. "What?"

"Pickles," she repeated more firmly, as though it were a matter of national emergency. "I need pickles. With ice cream. Vanilla."

Luca groaned, covering his face with a pillow. "You’re insane."

"Pregnant," she correctedily corrected, nudging his shoulder. "And growing your heir, might I add. The least you could do is help me feed your tiny royal."

That did it. Luca threw the covers back, grumbling in Italian under his breath but smiling despite himself. "Fine. But you’re coming with me. I don’t trust you not to eat the whole kitchen while I’m gone."

They drove through the quiet streets of the city, the world asleep while they chased cravings. The neon lights of the only 24-hour store flickered faintly, bathing them in an otherworldly glow. Aria wore one of Luca’s hoodies, the sleeves far too long, and fuzzy socks shoved into slippers. Luca thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

Inside, she went straight for the aisles like a woman on a mission, grabbing pickles, ice cream, and a bar of dark chocolate for good measure. Luca trailed behind her with a basket, amused. "You’re not human anymore, are you?"

She shot him a grin over her shoulder. "I’m evolving."

Later, back home, they sat on the kitchen counter, her legs swinging, his hand resting protectively on her growing bump. Aria dipped a pickle into the ice cream and took a bite. Luca cringed.

"That’s disgusting," he muttered.

"Don’t judge until you try," she said, holding it out to him.

He hesitated, then took a bite, immediately regretting it. "Nope. I’m judging."

She burst into laughter, and he joined her, their giggles echoing through the quiet house. It was one of those small, perfect moments that made everything feel simple again, before wars, betrayals, and bloodlines. Just them.

The next morning, chaos arrived disguised as normalcy.

Aria had insisted on attending a prenatal yoga class, despite Luca’s protests. "It’s for relaxation," she told him. "I need peace."

"You can have peace right here," he said, kissing her neck. "In bed. With me."

She smacked his arm playfully. "You can’t charm your way out of everything, Luca."

He grinned. "I’ve charmed my way into quite a lot, though."

Eventually, he relented, but only after sending two bodyguards to "supervise the serenity," as he put it. Aria rolled her eyes but let him have his way.

At the yoga studio, surrounded by other expectant mothers, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a while, normal. There was laughter, soft music, and talk about baby names and cravings. But as she stretched into a pose, her thoughts drifted to Luca. Would he still be the same when their child came? Would their world ever be calm enough to raise a baby in peace?

When she returned home, she found him pacing the living room with a blueprint in his hand.

"What’s this?" she asked.

"Our nursery," he said with a proud smile. "I had the architect design it. Look, safety glass, reinforced doors, blackout shades, and a sound system that plays classical music."

Aria stared at him, torn between laughter and awe. "You built a fortress for a baby."

"I built safety," he corrected, walking up to her. "Because I don’t ever want our child to grow up in fear. Not like I did."

Her heart softened instantly. She placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. "You’re going to be an incredible father, Luca."

He swallowed, visibly moved. "Only because I’ll have you beside me."

That night, they painted part of the nursery together, Aria stubbornly refusing to let anyone else do it. She wanted to leave her touch on every corner. She chose a soft cream color, insisting it was neutral and calm. Luca, however, sneaked in a few navy blue accents when she wasn’t looking.

At one point, she turned around to find him with a streak of paint across his cheek. "You missed a spot," she teased, leaning in to wipe it off, but he caught her wrist and kissed her fingers instead.

"You’re glowing," he whispered. "Do you know that?"

Aria smiled, brushing his hair back. "I feel like I swallowed a basketball."

He chuckled, placing a hand on her belly. "Our little basketball."

As the days passed, they fell into a rhythm of chaos and sweetness. Morning sickness battles, craving runs, doctor visits, and late-night talks about names.

"What about Alessandro?" Luca asked one evening.

"Too traditional," Aria said, shaking her head. "What about Leo?"

He raised a brow. "Like Leonardo? As in DiCaprio?"

"As in brave lion," she said, smirking. "But sure, DiCaprio works too."

He laughed, shaking his head. "We’ll come back to it."

Sometimes they argued, usually about small things. How many pillows she needed to sleep, how often she should rest, or whether she could still attend meetings related to her newly inherited empire. But every argument ended the same way, with him holding her close, whispering apologies against her hair.

One rainy evening, she found him sitting by the window, staring out at the storm.

"Luca?" she said softly, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.

He looked up, his expression distant. "Sometimes I wonder if I deserve all this."

Aria crossed the room and knelt beside him. "You do. Every bit of it. You fought for it."

He exhaled slowly. "I fought. But I was also destroyed. And now I’m bringing a child into that world."

She took his hand, pressing it against her belly. "No, Luca. You’re bringing them into our world. One we’ll build from the ashes of everything that tried to destroy us."

He looked at her then, eyes full of emotion. "You always know what to say."

"Because I’ve lived through your storms," she whispered. "And I’m still here."

He leaned in, kissing her slowly, deeply, as the thunder rolled outside.

Their love had been born in chaos, tested by fire, and now, wrapped in the quiet hum of life within her, it felt indestructible.

Later that night, as Aria drifted to sleep, Luca whispered into the dark, "I’ll protect you both. Always."

She smiled faintly in her half-sleep, her hand resting over his. "We don’t need perfect, Luca. We just need each other."

And for the first time in a long while, he believed her.

The cravings grew bolder as the weeks turned into months. One dawn, Aria woke Luca with a gentle shake. "I need olives. Green ones. Stuffed with feta."

He squinted at the clock, 5:17 a.m. "The baby’s got expensive taste already."

She grinned, unrepentant. "Heir to an empire. What did you expect?"

He rolled out of bed, pulling on sweats. "Stay put. I’ll raid the pantry."

But the pantry failed. Luca returned empty-handed, sheepish. "We’re out. Emergency run?"

They ended up at a dawn market, Luca haggling with a vendor while Aria sampled cheeses, her laughter ringing in the crisp air. He watched her, heart full, thinking how far they’d come from gunfights to grocery lists.

Mornings brought softer rituals. Luca learned to make ginger tea just right, steeping it strong to ease her nausea. He’d bring it to bed, kissing her forehead as she sipped. "Morning, amore. How’s our little kicker?"

She’d smile, guiding his hand to feel the flutters. "Active. Practicing for soccer already."

Yoga classes became weekly escapes. Luca waited outside, scrolling baby gear on his phone, occasionally peeking through the window. One day, he joined, awkwardly folding his tall frame into child’s pose, earning giggles from the group. "For the baby," he muttered, face red.

Nursery progress turned playful. Aria caught Luca testing the crib’s sturdiness by shaking it vigorously. "Earthquake-proof?" she teased.

"DeLuca standard," he replied, pulling her into a paint-smeared hug.

Arguments flared and faded. Over her wanting to travel to a charity event and him insisting on virtual. "I’m pregnant, not porcelain," she’d snap. He’d counter with statistics on risks. But always, reconciliation in tender touches, his apologies murmured against her skin.

Rainy nights deepened confessions. Curled under blankets, Luca traced her stretch marks. "These are beautiful," he said. "Proof of strength.

Morning rituals evolved too. Luca mastered anti-nausea smoothies, blending ginger and fruits with precision, presenting them like gourmet offerings. "Your highness’s elixir," he’d say with a bow, making her giggle despite the queasiness.

The villa became their sanctuary, where they hosted intimate gatherings with trusted allies turned friends. Enzo arrived one afternoon bearing a handmade wooden toy chest, engraved with vines and stars. "For the little one," he grumbled, blushing when Aria hugged him. "Figured they’d need someplace for all the spoils."

Luca clapped his shoulder. "You’re going soft, old man."

"Speak for yourself," Enzo shot back, eyeing the stack of baby books on the coffee table.

As the weeks turned into months, Aria’s pregnancy progressed with a mix of whimsy and challenges that tested their bond in new ways. Luca, ever the strategist, dove into fatherhood preparation with the same intensity he once reserved for boardroom battles. He scoured online forums late at night, bookmarking articles on everything from diapering techniques to educational toys, often waking Aria with excited whispers. "Did you know babies recognize voices in the womb? I should read to them every day."

She’d smile sleepily, pulling him back to bed. "Start tomorrow. Tonight, just hold us."

Outside, the storm eased. Inside, their world glowed with the kind of peace that only love and a little midnight ice cream could bring.