Chapter 9 - The Missing Piece
Two weeks later, the transition of power across the syndicate’s assets was finalized, and the federal asset freeze on my personal accounts was lifted under a clean corporate reorganization.
We spent Saturday morning moving out of the temporary guest suites and into the master wing of the penthouse, turning the adjoining rooms into a permanent, sunlit nursery and play space for the quadruplets.
While the boys were busy helping a team of interior designers unpack boxes of books and toys, Mara and I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the Hudson River.
"You know," Mara murmured, sipping her coffee while resting her head lightly against my shoulder, "six years ago, when Vince handed me that bus ticket and told me you wanted me gone, I thought love was just a cruel joke wealthy people played when they got bored."
I turned, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her close. "I'm sorry I didn't look harder, Mara. I should have turned the city upside down the moment you vanished."
"You couldn't fight an enemy you didn't know existed," she replied gently, looking up into my eyes with a small, knowing smile. "Besides, you're making up for lost time now. The boys have asked me at least a dozen times this week if you're ever going to take them back to that restaurant to see the kitchen."
May you like
"We can buy the restaurant if they want it," I said without missing a beat.
Mara laughed, a rich, musical sound that chased away the last lingering shadows of our past. "Don't spoil them quite yet, Dominic Moretti. We have a lot of pancakes to make first."
