Chapter 5 - The Empire We Built
Two Years Later
The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of glittering gowns, clinking champagne glasses, and flashing cameras. It was the annual New York Legal Aid Gala, and tonight, I was the guest of honor.
I stood at the podium, looking out over the crowd. I had just passed the New York Bar Exam, graduating at the top of my class at Columbia. But more importantly, the charitable foundation I had launched using Santoro funds had just successfully provided legal defense for over five hundred low-income families in the city.
"They say that power corrupts," I said into the microphone, smiling at the crowd. "But I believe that power, when placed in the right hands, protects those who cannot protect themselves."
The crowd erupted into applause. My father, sitting at the front table, beamed with pride. Our relationship was healing. It took time, but I finally understood the impossible choice he had made to save my life, and he had spent the last two years proving he was a grandfather worthy of our forgiveness.
I stepped off the stage and was immediately engulfed in a pair of strong, familiar arms.
Niko kissed the side of my head, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back. He wore a custom tuxedo, looking like a dark god among ordinary men. The city’s elite gave him a wide berth, their eyes filled with a mixture of terror and awe. The Volkovs were a distant memory, completely eradicated from the Eastern Seaboard. Niko was the undisputed king of New York, and he made sure everyone knew I was his queen.
"You were magnificent, Mrs. Santoro," he murmured in my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
"Thank you, Mr. Santoro," I smiled, leaning into his solid warmth. "Can we go home now? Your heir is kicking my ribs, and I want to take these heels off."
Niko's eyes softened instantly. He dropped his hand to my slightly rounded stomach, a look of absolute reverence crossing his lethal features. The man who struck fear into the hearts of cartels and politicians was completely at the mercy of the tiny life growing inside me.
"Your chariot awaits," he said, effortlessly scooping me up into his arms, completely ignoring the gasps and flashing cameras of the socialites around us.
He carried me out into the crisp Manhattan night, settling me gently into the back of the armored Maybach. As the car pulled away from the curb, leaving the glittering lights of the gala behind, Niko pulled me onto his lap.
May you like
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. Two years ago, my father had handed me over to a monster in a desperate bid to save my life. I had walked down the aisle trembling, terrified of the ruthless mob boss who thought I was nothing more than a spoiled liability.
But as Niko kissed the crown of my head, his hand resting securely over our unborn child, I knew the truth. I hadn't been sold into captivity. I had been given the keys to an empire, and the heart of the only man strong enough to help me rule it.
