Chapter 17 - The Queen's Place
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Three months later.
The brutal Chicago winter was howling outside the floor-to-ceiling glass of the penthouse, but inside, the air was warm and heavy with quiet power.
Nevaeh sat at the massive marble kitchen island, wearing a silk robe, sipping expensive espresso. She wasn't the same woman who had cowered under Stella’s abuse. Her posture was straight, her eyes sharp. She had traded her catering uniform for designer clothes, but more importantly, she had traded her fear for authority.
Leandro walked into the kitchen, wearing his signature tailored black suit, adjusting his cufflinks. He looked breathtakingly handsome and terrifyingly lethal.
He stopped behind her chair, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her bare neck.
“Marco is waiting downstairs,” Leandro murmured, resting his hands on her shoulders. “The meeting with the Russian delegates is in an hour.”
“Do you want me there?” Nevaeh asked, turning her head to look at him.
“I always want you there,” Leandro smiled, a dark, proud expression. “They need to know who is running the finances of the Syndicate now.”
Over the past three months, Nevaeh had stepped seamlessly into Leandro's world. Her meticulous attention to detail, honed from years of invisible service, made her brilliant at organizing the legitimate business fronts of the Perry empire. The men who worked for Leandro had quickly learned to respect her, not just because she was the boss's woman, but because she possessed a quiet, ruthless intelligence that matched his own.
She was no longer the assistant. She was the Donna.
“I'll get dressed,” Nevaeh said, standing up and sliding her arms around his waist.
“Take your time,” Leandro whispered, kissing her deeply. “The Russians can wait.”
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Their peace was absolute. The Falcones were destroyed, Stella was gone, and they had built an impenetrable fortress together. Nevaeh’s mother was thriving under the best medical care money could buy, completely unaware of the dark world funding her recovery.
But in the world of the mafia, peace is always a fragile, temporary illusion.
