Tomorrow, the city burns.
Tonight, the king rests with his queen.
Epilogue
GEMMA
Fresh drywall dustcoats the air. The comforting notes of gun oil and black coffee cut through the construction debris. A brand-new elevator motor hums beneath the soles of my boots. The smooth, frictionless glide replaces the terrifying screech of rusted metal. The Grand Continental breathes with new life.
Dante stands beside me. His frame consumes half the elevator cab. A custom charcoal suit drapes over his broad shoulders. He looks like a king surveying his conquered empire. A gold band catches the overhead LED lights on his left hand. My husband. The word sends a wicked thrill straight to my toes. He holds a pink bakery box by a string. Matteo's mandatory Sunday cannolis. Dante carries the delicate pastry box like a highly volatile tactical asset.
"You are glaring at the floor indicator." My voice breaks the quiet hum of the ascent.
He shifts his weight. The dark armor and knotwork tattoos on his right arm ripple beneath the crisp fabric of his dress shirt. "The contractor promised a faster motor. We are currently moving at an unacceptable speed."
"We are moving ten times faster than the death trap we rode the last time we were in this shaft."
His dark eyes snap to mine. The icy distance is permanently eradicated. A raw, territorial fire burns in his gaze. He shifts closer. The heat radiating off his broad chest wraps around me. He crowds me into the corner of the elevator cab. He uses his body to shield me from the doors.Not a trap. A shelter.
"I want to show you the penthouse." His voice rumbles low in his chest. "I lack patience today."
"You lack patience every day. You threatened to shoot the florist at the wedding because he took too long pinning your boutonnière."
He hums in agreement. His nose brushes against my jaw. He inhales deeply. The signature scent he demands constantly. He buries his face in my neck just as the elevator chimes. The metal doors slide open with a soft, musical note.
Sunlight pours into the hallway. The rotting velvet drapes are gone. The water-stained wallpaper is history. Bare studs and clean oak flooring stretch across the entire fourteenth floor. The panoramic windows offer a flawless view of the Chicago skyline. The city sprawling below us remains a battlefield. The war with the Bellantis rages on in the streets. The Costa family strikes back daily. But up here, above the smog and the sirens, peace reigns.
We step out of the cab. My heels click against the newly laid hardwood. Dante places a hand on the small of my back. He guides me through the open framing. He transferred the building to my name the morning after the extraction. A classic Costa overcompensation. A food truck gets destroyed, so myhusband gifts me a skyscraper. I intend to make him work for the thank-you tonight.
"The security upgrades are finished." Dante points to the reinforced steel framing around the master suite. "Biometric scanners on every entry point. Ballistic glass on all exterior windows. An isolated server for the surveillance feeds separated from the main city grid. No one gets on this floor without my blood running through the scanner."
"You built a fortress."
"I built you a home. The fortress aspect is just a bonus."
We stop in the center of the room. The exact spot where the dusty king mattress used to sit, right where he suffered his most violent panic attack. I watch his face closely. I look for the shadow of the sixteen-year-old boy holding a phone cord. I look for the phantom scent of cordite.
Nothing. His dark eyes remain clear. The rugged, messy beard is neatly trimmed. He breathes deeply, taking in the scent of fresh lumber and expensive paint.
"No ghosts today?" My voice softens.
Dante sets the pink bakery box on a temporary sawhorse table. He turns to me. His large hands cup my cheeks. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones. "No ghosts. Carlo is at peace. Matteo and I talked for three hours last night at the compound. We went through the old photo albums. The real memories. Not the alley. Not the rain. Just the man who raised us."
"And the phone call?"
"A tragedy. Not a failure." He kisses my forehead. "I was a kid. I couldn't save him. But I saved you. And you saved me. The ledger is balanced."
Pride swells tight in my chest. The broken, hypervigilant guard dog is gone. The man standing in front of me is whole. Fierce. Lethal to his enemies. Devoted entirely to his family.
"Dominic wants me to take the southern warehouse raids next week," Dante mentions casually. "The Bellantis are securing arms shipments through the river docks. We are cutting off their supply lines."
"You will wear your vest." I grab the lapels of his suit jacket. "You will clear your corners. And you will come home to me."
"Always." Dante kisses my mouth hard. A bruising, possessive claim. "The war doesn't cross our threshold. This building belongs to us."
He pulls away, checking the oversized gold watch on his left wrist. "The contractors are waiting downstairs. We need to inspect the ground floor."
He grabs the cannoli box. We walk back to the shiny new elevator. The descent is just as smooth as the climb. My mind races with the possibilities of the penthouse. We spent the last six months living in the fortified Costa compound on the North Side. The limestone mansion provided safety. The industrial kitchen provided Matteo's endless culinary hovering. But the compound belongs to the family. The Grand Continental belongs to us.
