Chapter 10 - The Sea Near Palermo
Six months later.
The Mediterranean sun beat down warmly against the white stucco walls of a cliffside villa overlooking the sparkling, sapphire-blue waters near Palermo, Sicily. The air smelled of salt, blooming lemon trees, and fresh basil.
Sophia stood on the terrace, wearing a simple, elegant white linen sundress that caught the sea breeze. On her left hand, the sapphire ring gleamed brilliantly in the afternoon light, joined now by a delicate gold band etched with traditional Sicilian olive branches.
From the kitchen behind her drifted the rich, comforting aroma of simmering tomatoes, garlic, and fresh pasta dough.
“You’re burning the garlic, husband,” Sophia called out over her shoulder with a playful smile.
A moment later, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her back against a familiar, solid chest. Warm lips pressed gently against the crook of her neck.
“I am a master chef, Mrs. Moretti,” Dante murmured against her skin, his voice deep and warm. “Garlic cannot possibly burn in my presence.”
Sophia turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck. Dante looked completely different from the severe, brooding mafioso who had sat at Table Nine in Veluto. Dressed in a casual linen shirt with the top buttons open, his dark hair ruffled by the sea breeze, and a genuine, relaxed smile gracing his face, he looked like a man who had finally found peace.
“Your mother is going to be here in ten minutes,” Sophia reminded him, raising an eyebrow. “And if the pasta isn't ready, she will banish both of us back to New York.”
“Mama loves you more than she loves me,” Dante feigned a jealous pout, though his eyes danced with amusement. “She’s spent the last three days teaching you her secret sugo recipe as if you were auditioning for sainthood.”
“It’s a good recipe,” Sophia laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Down in the courtyard below, Anthony Rossi sat under a shaded pergola, laughing heartily as he played a game of cards with Enzo, who had finally taken a two-week vacation from his security duties. Life had settled into a rhythm that none of them could have ever imagined possible on that freezing February night in Manhattan.
The past was gone. The debts were paid. The empire had been successfully transitioned into legal real estate developments across New York and Sicily, leaving the Moretti name clean, respected, and free of blood.
Dante pulled her closer, his dark eyes softening as he looked down at her with an intensity that never faded.
“Penny for your thoughts, piccola?” he whispered.
Sophia smiled, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.
“I was just thinking about my nonna,” she said softly. “And how she always said pastina could repair almost anything.”
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Dante’s smile widened, a breathtaking expression that transformed his whole face. He kissed the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as they looked out over the endless blue horizon where the sea met the sky.
“She was right,” Dante murmured, holding her close against the warmth of the Sicilian sun. “She was right about everything.”
