Chapter 9 - The Grand Gala
Six months later.
The grand ballroom of the Costa estate was filled with light, music, and three hundred of the most powerful people in the country.
Politicians, judges, syndicate bosses, and international shipping tycoons moved beneath the massive crystal chandeliers, raising glasses of vintage champagne to celebrate the annual Costa Spring Charity Gala.
At the center of the room, standing beside a eight-foot floral arch of white roses, stood Luciano and Chloe.
Chloe was six months pregnant, her round, beautiful belly proudly displayed beneath an empire-waist gown of emerald silk. She looked radiant, powerful, and completely at home, holding court among women who had once treated her like invisible background noise.
Lydia Bellini—the widowed sister of the late Don Bellini, who had assumed management of her family's legitimate real estate holdings—approached Chloe with a respectful bow of her head.
"A magnificent evening, Mrs. Costa," Lydia said smoothly, presenting a small wrapped box of vintage infant silver. "The Commission sends its warmest regards for the upcoming arrival of the heir."
"Thank you, Lydia," Chloe replied with flawless, serene authority, accepting the gift and handing it to Mr. Hart, who stood nearby with a silver tray. "Enjoy the evening. The prosecco is from our private vineyard in Castelmola."
As Lydia walked away, Luciano stepped close behind Chloe, wrapping his arm around her soft waist, pulling her back against his broad chest.
"You look breathtaking tonight, my love," he whispered into her hair.
"My feet hurt, Luciano," Chloe murmured playfully, leaning back against his strong frame. "And if another capo tells me my belly indicates a baby boy, I am going to throw a glass of prosecco at him."
Luciano chuckled, his low voice vibrating pleasantly against her back. "I will order Mr. Hart to bring you your fuzzy bear slippers immediately."
"Don't you dare," Chloe laughed softly, turning in his arms to look up into his dark, handsome face. "I have a reputation to maintain as the ruthless Queen of the East Coast."
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"Your reputation is entirely secure, Mrs. Costa," Luciano whispered, leaning down to press his lips against hers in front of the three hundred gathered guests.
No one cheered out loud—they were too intimidated by the Don for that—but a respectful hush fell over the grand ballroom as the legendary couple shared a long, quiet kiss beneath the white roses.
