Chapter 7 - The Crown of Manhattan
Two months later.
The Plaza Hotel’s Grand Ballroom was lit by thousands of crystal chandeliers, glowing like a palace of gold in the heart of Fifth Avenue.
Tonight was the annual Solstice Gala of the Five Families—the most prestigious, high-stakes gathering of New York’s high society and underground elite.
The heavy double doors of the ballroom swung open.
The master of ceremonies announced in a booming voice: "Don Dominic Vitiello and Donna Meline Vitiello!"
The conversation in the vast ballroom died instantly. Three hundred eyes turned toward the grand staircase.
Dominic walked down the stairs looking magnificent in a custom black tuxedo, his jaw clean-shaven, his posture towering and commanding.
But it was the woman on his arm who commanded the breath of every Don, senator, and socialite in the room.
Meline looked like an absolute empress.
She wore a sweeping black velvet gown with an off-the-shoulder cut that gracefully revealed her right shoulder, where a subtle, pale pink scar sat like a badge of honor. Around her neck hung the famous Vitiello Sapphire—a legendary fifty-carat necklace that had belonged to the family’s founding matriarch, a piece that had not been taken out of the vault in fifty years.
She walked with supreme, effortless majesty, her chin held high, her dark eyes sparkling with intelligence and absolute power.
Dominic did not walk two steps ahead of her as traditional mafia bosses did. He walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her, his hand wrapped firmly around her waist, his eyes constantly returning to her face with open, unashamed adoration.
As they reached the main floor, Lorenzo Castillion stepped out from the VIP lounge, holding a glass of champagne. He wore a crisp dark grey tuxedo, looking relaxed and sharp.
"Dominic. Meline," Lorenzo tipped his glass toward them with a respectful smile.
"Lorenzo," Meline smiled warmly, stepping forward to press a polite kiss to his cheek. "How is Brooklyn treating you?"
"Much quieter now that Westchester is wide open," Lorenzo laughed softly, looking at Dominic. "You look well, Vitiello. Marriage seems to agree with you when you aren't throwing your wife out of windows."
Dominic offered a small, rare smile—a genuine expression that surprised several capos watching from across the room. "Watch your mouth, Castillion. She owns half my territory now. If you annoy her, she might double your transit fees."
Lorenzo chuckled, raising his glass. "To the real Queen of New York."
"To the Queen," Dominic agreed softly, clinking his glass against Lorenzo’s, his dark eyes fixed entirely on Meline.
Later that evening, as the orchestra played a slow, romantic waltz, Dominic pulled Meline onto the center of the dance floor.
He held her gently, his broad hand resting lightly against the small of her back, spinning her gracefully beneath the golden light of the chandeliers.
"Everyone is staring at us," Meline whispered, resting her left hand against his crisp collarbone.
"Let them stare," Dominic murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her temple. "Let them see that the Vitiello empire isn't ruled by a cold man in an empty penthouse anymore."
Meline looked up into his dark, passionate eyes, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart beneath her fingers.
"Do you regret giving me half your empire, Dominic?" she teased softly, her lips curving into a captivating smile.
May you like
Dominic pulled her closer, his gaze burning with a devotion so deep it took her breath away.
"I didn't give you half my empire, my love," Dominic whispered against her lips. "I gave you my whole life. And it was the best decision I ever made."
