Chapter 9 - The Sanctuary We Built
Six months later.
The Long Island estate was unrecognizable.
The cold, sterile fortress had been transformed into a home. The high stone walls remained, but the interior gardens were overflowing with blooming roses, hydrangeas, and warm patio lights. The dark velvet drapes had been replaced with soft linen that allowed the morning sunlight to flood the marble halls.
The war with Moretti’s syndicate was over. Dominic had systematically dismantled the rival factions, establishing a absolute peace that allowed him to step back from the bloody front lines and run his logistics empire legitimately.
It was 2:00 AM on a warm Saturday night. Rain was softly tapping against the glass of the expansive kitchen windows.
Beatrice walked down the back stairs barefoot. She wore a soft, blush-pink silk robe over her nightgown, her dark curls tumbling freely around her shoulders. She was two months pregnant, and a subtle, beautiful glow radiated from her features.
She walked to the marble island, pouring herself a glass of warm milk with honey.
She turned on her phone, playing a slow, romantic jazz melody softly through the kitchen speakers. Smiling to herself, Beatrice closed her eyes and began to sway softly in the middle of the dark room, moving her hips to the music.
She was no longer hiding. She was taking up space—her space, in her home.
A pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
Dominic pulled her back against his broad chest, resting his chin on her shoulder. He wore loose trousers and an unbuttoned linen shirt. He swayed with her, matching her slow, graceful rhythm.
"You're dancing without me again, Mrs. Russo," Dominic murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear.
Beatrice laughed softly, leaning her head back against his chest. She rested her hands over his, which were gently cradling her softly rounded stomach.
"I didn't want to wake you," she smiled, turning in his arms to wrap her hands around his neck. "You had a long day at the port."
Dominic looked down at her with a soft, idolizing expression that still took her breath away every single day. He leaned down, pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to her lips.
"I will never be too tired to dance with you in the kitchen at two in the morning," he whispered softly against her mouth. "This is where I found my life again."
"Daddy? Bee?"
A tiny voice called out from the archway. Six-year-old Leo stood there in his pajamas, rubbing his sleepy eyes and holding a stuffed bear.
"Leo, buddy," Dominic smiled, stepping back and scooping his son up into his left arm while keeping his right arm firmly around Beatrice’s waist. "What are you doing up?"
"I heard the music," Leo mumbled, burying his head in Dominic’s shoulder. "Can I dance too?"
Dominic looked at Beatrice, his heart overflowing with a peace he had once believed was impossible for a man like him.
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"Yeah, buddy," Dominic said softly, pulling Beatrice close so that all three of them were wrapped together in the center of the warm light. "We can dance as long as you want."
Outside, the rain fell gently over Long Island. But inside the kitchen, surrounded by love, warmth, and the family they had built, the music played on.
