Chapter 6 - The Shadows of Sicily
The Mediterranean breeze carried the sharp scent of salt, citrus, and ancient stone across the cliffs of Taormina. For the first two months following our secluded wedding in Italy, the sprawling estate perched above the sea felt like a sanctuary—a world entirely isolated from the blood, smoke, and gunmetal of New York City. Yet, an empire built on the underworld does not simply pause because its king takes a bride.
Dante stood by floor-to-ceiling glass doors that overlooked the terrace, his sharp silhouette cast against the brilliant golden hues of the setting sun. He was wearing an unbuttoned linen shirt, the dark linen contrasting with his olive skin, but his posture remained rigid, coiled with the habitual tension of a man who never truly slept.
I walked up quietly behind him, my bare feet making no sound against the cool marble floor. I slipped my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek against his back. I could feel the hard expanse of his muscles, still tense.
“You’re miles away, husband,” I murmured, my voice soft in the quiet room.
Dante turned within my embrace, his strong arms wrapping securely around me. His dark eyes softened the moment they locked onto mine—a transformation reserved exclusively for me. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
“Not miles away, piccola,” he corrected softly, his thumb tracing the diamond ring on my left hand. “Just keeping watch. The old guard in Palermo is restless. With Moretti gone, a vacuum opened up in the eastern territories. They think distance makes us vulnerable.”
I leaned back, looking up into those fathomless, dark eyes that had once terrified me in a dingy Queens diner. Now, they were my home.
“Let them think what they want,” I said, a flash of the old fire returning to my voice. “They forget who they are dealing with. They think because I used to serve coffee in a polyester dress, I don't know how to survive a boardroom full of sharks.”
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Dante let out a low, rich chuckle that resonated deeply in his chest. “They could never forget you, Clare. Especially not after what you did to Moretti. But that is precisely why we cannot stay hidden here forever. The empire requires our presence. Manhattan is calling us back.”
I felt a sudden shiver run down my spine, though the evening air was warm. Returning to New York meant returning to the chessboard. But as I looked at the man who had burned down a building just to pull me out of danger, I knew I wasn't the terrified waitress anymore. I was a Caruso.
