Chapter 6 - The Unbroken PromiseDesmond reached out his left arm, wrapping it securely around my waist, pulling my body flush against his solid, upright frame, while his right hand held his silver cane firmly against the marble floor.
"You promised me I wouldn't do the Macarena at three in the morning, Clara," Desmond whispered softly into my ear, his deep baritone rich with genuine love.
I let out a breathless, joyful laugh, resting my hands against his broad tuxedo lapels, looking up into his carved, handsome face.
"You're doing better than the Macarena, Desmond Gallagher," I smiled, wiping a sweet tear from my cheek. "You're standing on your own throne."
Desmond leaned down, pressing his lips softly, fiercely against mine in a deep, unhurried, passionate kiss that sealed our future forever under the sunlit sky.
The guests cheered loudly, raising their crystal champagne glasses in a triumphant chorus.
Frankie and Marco stepped up to our table, carrying a silver tray with two glasses of fine wine, bowing their heads with profound, genuine respect.
"To Don Desmond and Donna Clara Gallagher!" Frankie toasted cleanly. "The sovereign leaders who proved that true strength is built on love, courage, and unbroken loyalty!"
"To Desmond and Clara!" the entire terrace echoed in a warm, triumphant chorus.
Desmond took a slow sip of wine, keeping his broad arm wrapped securely around my waist as we looked out over the vast, sparkling blue waters of Lake Michigan stretching before us into the unbroken horizon.
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There were no corrupt doctors planting bombs under cars. There were no fake nurses spying in dark bedrooms. There were no broken recluses hiding under thick wool blankets.
The bitter, wounded crime boss was dead forever. The sovereign patriarch had claimed his throne.
