Chapter 8 - Queen of the Realm
Three months passed.
Winter settled over New York City, turning Central Park into a pristine blanket of white snow.
The Continental Lounge was open again, its velvet curtains drawn against the cold, its amber lights glowing warmly over the polished mahogany tables.
Tonight, the lounge was closed for a private event.
Every major family head from New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia sat at the long dining tables stretching across the room. Men who commanded armies of enforcers and controlled hundreds of millions of dollars sat in quiet, respectful silence.
At the head of the room, standing before the marble fireplace, was Masimo Costa.
Beside him stood me.
I wore a floor-length emerald green velvet gown that draped elegantly over my frame. Around my neck hung a stunning necklace of black diamonds—Masimo’s gift for my thirty-first birthday last week.
Leo, now four years old and dressed in a miniature tailored suit, sat happily at a corner table with Rosa, eating a giant bowl of chocolate gelato.
Masimo raised his crystal glass, looking out over the gathered leaders of the underworld.
“Three months ago,” Masimo’s deep voice resonated across the silent room, “some of you believed that my district was vulnerable. You thought that because I opened my doors to a woman and her child, I had grown soft.”
He paused, his slate eyes sweeping over the crowd until they landed on Frank Moretti, who sat near the back, looking noticeably paler and wearing a significantly cheaper suit than he used to.
“You learned that lesson the hard way,” Masimo continued calmly. “Alessandra Ferraro is not just my partner. She is the Chief Financial Officer of the Costa enterprise. Her mind commands every dollar, every dock, and every ledger from Manhattan to Rotterdam.”
He turned to me, holding his glass higher.
“To the Queen of Midtown,” Masimo murmured, his eyes shining with deep, fierce devotion.
“To the Queen!” every man in the room echoed loudly, raising their glasses in unison.
I looked out over the sea of powerful men bowing their heads to me—a woman who had once been running through the freezing rain with forty-three dollars in her pocket and a split shoe.
I smiled, taking a small sip of my champagne.
When the toasts concluded and the guests began mingling, Masimo took my hand and led me away from the crowd, up the private staircase leading to his office above the lounge.
He closed the heavy double doors behind us, shutting out the noise of the party.
He pulled me into his arms, wrapping his hands tightly around my waist, lifting me slightly off the floor as his mouth found mine in a fierce, passionate kiss.
“You look breathtaking tonight, Mrs. Costa,” he whispered against my lips.
I laughed softly, tracing the line of his strong jaw. “I haven't agreed to change my name yet, Mr. Costa.”
Masimo reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined box. He opened it to reveal a massive, flawless emerald-cut diamond ring that caught the amber light of the office lamps.
He didn't drop to one knee. He held the box between us, his dark slate eyes fixing me with an intensity that made my heart hammer against my ribs.
“You sat at my table three months ago and threatened to make my night complicated,” Masimo murmured softly. “Make the rest of my life complicated, Alessandra. Marry me.”
I looked at the ring, then looked up into the eyes of the man who had given me a home, a fortress, and a love deeper than anything I had ever imagined.
“Only if I get to audit your personal accounts every month,” I whispered, tears of joy sparkling in my eyes.
May you like
Masimo laughed—that rich, low, rumbling sound I loved so much—and slipped the ring onto my finger.
“You can audit anything you want, my love,” he whispered, pulling me back into his arms. “My empire is yours.”
