Chapter 9 - Spring in Tribeca
May brought a sudden, warm spring to New York City, washing the gray winter chill from the concrete streets and filling the air with the scent of blooming magnolia trees in Central Park.
Inside the master suite of the Tribeca penthouse, the atmosphere was a chaotic, beautiful mess of miniature clothing, pastel blankets, and the soft, rhythmic sounds of infant breathing.
Amelia sat propped up against the headboard of the king-size bed, holding a tiny, swaddled baby girl in one arm while a tiny boy slept soundly in the bassinet beside her.
The door opened silently, and Dominic walked in. He had abandoned his customary three-piece charcoal suits for a simple black cashmere sweater and dark trousers, though the sleeves were currently pushed up to his elbows. In his arms, he carried a stack of fresh white orchid stems in a glass vase.
He stopped at the bedside, looking down at his daughter—who possessed Amelia’s wide hazel eyes—and his son, who had his own stubborn chin.
“You brought more flowers,” Amelia whispered, a tired, radiant smile gracing her face.
“The florist downstairs said they were freshly imported from Verona,” Dominic said deadpan, setting the vase down on the nightstand with exaggerated care. “I told her if they weren't alive by tomorrow morning, I’d buy her entire shop and turn it into a parking lot.”
Amelia laughed softly, shifting the baby slightly so Dominic could lean down.
He didn't hesitate. He dropped down onto his knees beside the bed, exactly where he had knelt in the bank vault months ago—not out of defeat or surrender, but out of absolute, unconditional devotion. He pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to his daughter’s forehead, then kissed Amelia’s lips, tasting the sweet warmth of her mouth.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice dropping into that quiet, tender register reserved only for her.
“Tired,” she admitted, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Inordinately happy. And completely exhausted by the fact that the most feared mafia boss in New York spends his nights Googling how to burp newborns.”
“My research is comprehensive,” Dominic replied solemnly, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her and the children close against his chest. “And my security perimeter is impenetrable.”
Outside the massive glass windows, the Manhattan skyline glittered beneath the golden afternoon sun. Towers of glass rose into the sky—monuments to ambition, power, and wealth.
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For the first time in his life, Dominic Castellano didn't own any of them.
He owned something far more valuable. He owned a future.
