Chapter 8 - The Price of Loyalty
Two months later.
The winter snow had fallen over upstate New York, covering the Moretti estate in a thick, silent blanket of pure white.
Inside the master suite, a massive stone fireplace crackled with warm, orange flames.
Pickles, my orange tabby cat, sat comfortably on a plush velvet armchair near the hearth, purring loudly as he ate his expensive prescription kidney food from a gold-rimmed porcelain bowl.
I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, wearing a soft cream sweater and wool leggings, watching Gabriel.
He was standing.
He held a pair of lightweight carbon-fiber forearm crutches, taking slow, deliberate, powerful steps across the Persian rug. Vincent stood three paces behind him, holding a spotter belt, but Gabriel didn't need it.
He took five steps, then six, then seven, stopping directly in front of my spot on the bed.
He dropped his crutches onto the floor with a soft thud and sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his lap.
"Seven steps today," I smiled, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with my fingers. "The physical therapist is going to cry."
"I don't care about the therapist," Gabriel murmured, leaning down to press a warm kiss to the sensitive skin behind my ear. "I only care about my nurse."
"I'm not your nurse anymore, Gabriel," I reminded him gently. "I resigned from the agency three weeks ago."
"Good," Gabriel said, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with that dark, possessive heat that always made my breath catch. "Because I don't pay my wife a salary."
I looked down at my left hand.
Resting on my ring finger was a breathtaking platinum band set with an oval-cut diamond surrounded by tiny, brilliant emeralds—the color of rose leaves in spring.
After Carmine and Vance were sentenced to life in federal prison without parole, Gabriel had officially dissolved the Moretti syndicate's illegal operations, transferring the family’s vast wealth into legitimate international logistics, real estate, and medical research foundations.
He had given up the throne of the underworld to build a life in the light.
With me.
"Have you checked your bank account today, Mrs. Moretti?" Gabriel asked softly, resting his hand over mine.
"No," I blinked. "Why?"
"I paid off your student loans," he said plainly. "All two hundred thousand dollars."
I gasped, looking up at him in shock. "Gabriel! That was my debt!"
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"You saved my life, cured my paralysis, exposed a coup, and agreed to marry a grumpy man with a terrible attitude," Gabriel said, a brilliant, breathtaking smile spreading across his face. "I think two hundred thousand dollars is a bargain."
I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to mine for a long, passionate kiss that filled the warm, firelit room with sweet, undeniable heat.
