Chapter 9 - Where the Shadows Fade
Six months later, the Long Island estate looked completely different under the warm, golden light of late April.
The gray, foreboding chill of winter had melted away, replaced by blooming dogwoods, vibrant hydrangeas, and the sweet, salty breeze rolling off the blue expanse of the Sound. The seawall had been completely reconstructed, reinforced with six feet of solid marine concrete, erasing every trace of the old Prohibition tunnels forever.
Down on the sweeping emerald lawn, Sophie was running in circles, her high, musical laughter carrying on the spring wind.
She was clutching a long red ribbon, waving it through the air like a gymnast while Bruno—his ninety-pound frame bounding with joyful, clumsy enthusiasm—chased after her, his tail wagging so hard his entire hindquarters swung from side to side.
On the stone terrace overlooking the lawn, Theresa sat in a wicker armchair, wearing dark designer sunglasses, sipping an iced tea while reviewing architectural blueprints for a new children's equestrian center she was funding in Sophie's name.
I leaned against the stone balustrade, holding a warm cup of coffee, the sun warming my face.
For the first time in my twenty-nine years, I didn't feel the phantom knot of panic in my stomach. The nightmares of three knocks against the window had stopped months ago. When I closed my eyes at night, I no longer saw the flash of muzzle fire or the dark, weeping bricks of that tunnel.
I felt two large, warm hands gently settle onto my hips from behind.
I didn't flinch. I leaned back against the broad, solid chest of Dante Moretti.
He wore a crisp white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, the scars on his skin faded into pale, silvery maps under the bright sunlight. He rested his chin against the crown of my head, breathing in the scent of my hair.
"She’s tiring him out," Dante murmured, his voice laced with quiet amusement as Bruno collapsed onto the grass, his tongue lolling out of his mouth while Sophie threw her arms around his massive neck, burying her face in his fur.
"That dog would walk through fire for her," I said, smiling as Sophie placed a dandelion crown haphazardly between Bruno’s floppy ears.
"The dog isn't the only one," Dante replied softly.
I turned in the circle of his arms, looking up into his sharp, striking face. The cold, unapproachable mob boss that Long Island whispered about in terrified tones was nowhere to be found in the warmth of his gray eyes.
When he looked at me, he looked like a man who had finally found his shore after a lifetime adrift in stormy seas.
"Theresa told me the lawyers finalized the foundation paperwork this morning," I said, resting my hands against the front of his shirt, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath my palms.
"The Moretti-Vance assets are officially liquidated," Dante confirmed, dipping his head until his lips brushed against mine, soft, lingering, and intoxicatingly warm. "Everything clean. Everything legitimate. Just like Michael wanted for her."
He pulled back slightly, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw. "And what about what you want, Rachel?"
May you like
I looked down at the lawn, where my daughter was laughing uncontrollably as Bruno gave her cheek a massive, sloppy lick. Then I looked back up into the eyes of the man who had torn his own house apart to keep us safe.
"I think," I said, a soft smile spreading across my lips as I rose on my tiptoes to kiss him properly under the bright April sun, "that we're finally home."
