Chapter 9 - The Final Feast
Six months later.
The sun shone brightly over Long Island, casting golden light across the sprawling green lawns of the Rossi estate. The storm damage from autumn was completely gone. The high stone walls remained, but the front gates were wide open, draped in white roses, fresh ivy, and silk ribbons.
The grand dining room, where men had once whispered of poison and murder, was filled with the sounds of violin music, clinking champagne glasses, and joyous laughter.
A massive wedding feast sat upon the mahogany table: roasted rack of lamb, handmade gnocchi in sage butter, fresh figs, sourdough bread, and bowls of clear, golden chicken broth served in delicate porcelain cups—a homage to the night that had saved a king's life.
Norah stood on the marble terrace overlooking the gardens, wearing a stunning ivory silk gown that hugged her soft, lush curves, cascading into a soft train behind her. Her dark hair was pinned up with white jasmine flowers, and a simple diamond necklace—a gift from Vincent—rested against her collarbone.
She held a glass of sparkling water, looking out over the water. Her cheeks were flushed with happiness, her heart full.
A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
Vincent pulled her back against his broad chest. He wore a crisp black tuxedo, looking handsome, powerful, and completely restored to health. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair.
"You're hiding from your guests, Mrs. Rossi," Vincent murmured softly, his lips brushing against her neck.
Norah laughed—a rich, happy sound that echoed across the terrace. She turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his lapels.
"I needed a minute to make sure this wasn't a dream," she smiled, looking up into his clear hazel eyes. "A year ago, I was scrubbing red wine out of your hallway carpet for twelve dollars an hour."
"And now you own the house, the land, and the man who lives in it," Vincent said, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her cheekbone. "A very fair trade, I think."
Down in the garden, Enzo was standing near the barbecue pit, arguing good-naturedly with Caleb, who had flown in from Vermont for the wedding, dressed in a new suit and looking healthy and clean.
"Frank Russo and Vance were sentenced to life without parole this morning," Vincent whispered softly, his hands settling possessively on her waist. "The Commission has signed the peace accord. The Rossi family is completely legitimate now. No more guns. No more poison. Just shipping, real estate, and peace."
Norah looked into the eyes of the man who had traded his bloody empire for a future with her.
"And what about my kitchen?" she asked playfully, a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. "Are you still letting me choose the menu?"
Vincent smiled—a bright, beautiful smile that reached his eyes.
May you like
"My queen," Vincent said, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a long, sweet, possessive kiss. "In this house, you choose everything."
Outside, the warm Atlantic breeze swept through the gardens, carrying the scent of roses and fresh bread across the estate. And inside, surrounded by light, safety, and love, the maid who had saved a dying king ruled beside him forever.
