Chapter 8 - The Weight of Gold
By May, the snow on the Catskill mountains had melted into cascading green rivers, and the gardens at Bellmore Ridge exploded into full bloom.
The fortress atmosphere of the estate had transformed. The heavy perimeter gates were opened during the day; the armed sentries in tactical gear were replaced by discreet, civilian security; and the sound of children laughing echoed across the stone terraces.
In the grand kitchen, flour was currently flying through the air.
“Gia, that’s baking powder, not sugar!” Bea laughed, catching the tin just before the nine-year-old dumped three tablespoons into a bowl of pancake batter.
“Frankie said it looked like sugar!” Gia protested, flour dusting the tip of her nose.
Frankie, sitting on the marble island swinging her bare legs, grinned impishly. “I said it tasted like chalk. There’s a difference.”
Dominic walked into the kitchen wearing jeans and a soft gray cashmere sweater—a sight that Harold Mercer still crossed himself over whenever he witnessed it. The ruthless mob boss who had once commanded fear from Albany to Manhattan now picked up a wooden spoon, wiped a smudge of flour from Bea’s cheek with his thumb, and kissed her squarely on the lips right in front of his daughters.
“Gross,” Gia declared, though her smile reached all the way to her dark eyes.
“Extremely gross,” Frankie agreed, nodding solemnly.
“Go wash your hands, both of you,” Dominic ordered with fake sternness. “Breakfast is in ten minutes.”
The girls scrambled out of the kitchen, their laughter trailing up the marble staircase.
Dominic wrapped both arms around Bea from behind, pulling her soft, curvy frame flush against his chest, resting his chin on her shoulder as she flipped the pancakes on the griddle.
“Harold told me the board finalized the sale of the docks this morning,” Bea said, leaning back into his warmth.
“Signed, sealed, and transferred,” Dominic confirmed, kissing the crook of her neck. “Bellmore Industrial Systems is officially a clean green-energy manufacturing firm. No offshore shells. No muscle. No blood.”
“How does it feel?” she asked, turning in his embrace to look up at him.
“Like taking off a lead suit after twenty years,” Dominic whispered. He looked down at her, his expression growing serious. “There’s only one piece of unfinished business left.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
Dominic stepped back, reaching into the pocket of his jeans.
He didn't produce an antique syndicate heirloom or a piece of mob loot. He pulled out a small black velvet box, opened it, and dropped to one knee on the tiled kitchen floor.
Inside the box rested a stunning emerald-cut diamond flanked by two sapphire stones—deep and blue, matching the color of the dress Bea had worn the first day she stepped out of the rain at Bellmore Ridge.
Bea gasped, both hands flying to her mouth.
“Dominic...”
“Nine months ago, my daughters were running governesses out of this house like ghosts,” Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a rough, beautiful tremor. “They were drowning in grief, and I was drowning right beside them. Then a woman walked through my front door with one suitcase, a soaked coat, and enough courage to stand up to an entire empire.”
Tears spilled over Bea’s lashes, tracking down her cheeks.
“You didn't just teach my girls, Beatrice,” Dominic continued, gazing up at her with adoration in his eyes. “You taught us how to live again. You gave Elena the justice she deserved, and you gave me back my soul. I don't care about my name, my money, or this house. I only care about you. Will you marry me, Beatrice? Will you be my wife, and their mother?”
Before Bea could speak, two heads poked around the kitchen doorframe.
“Say yes!” Gia shouted, practically jumping up and down.
“Please say yes, Bea!” Frankie pleaded, clutching her sister’s sleeve.
Bea laughed through her tears, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. She dropped to her knees in front of Dominic, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
May you like
“Yes,” she whispered fiercely against his lips. “A thousand times yes, Dominic.”
Dominic let out a triumphant laugh, lifting her straight off the floor into his arms as the girls rushed in, wrapping their arms around both of them in a tangled, joyful heap of flour, tears, and laughter.
