Chapter 7 - A New Recipe for ForeverThree years later.
The rain was falling softly outside Bellini’s restaurant, pattering against the glass of the front windows in a gentle, rhythmic hum.
Inside, the restaurant was warm, smelling of garlic, fresh basil, and expensive red wine. The tables were filled with laughing patrons, couples celebrating anniversaries, and politicians making deals over plates of homemade pasta.
At table four—right behind the corner partition—sat a young woman with bright, confident eyes and an immaculate black dress, reviewing the evening’s reservation ledger with a tablet in her hand.
“Manager Fields,” a smooth, deep voice called out from behind her.
I turned around, smiling as Dante walked through the front doors, shaking the light rain off his shoulders, wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fit him to perfection. He didn't look like a man hiding from his enemies anymore. He looked like a man who owned the world—and loved every second of it.
He walked straight up to my station, ignoring the whispered murmurs of the diners around us, and wrapped his arms securely around my waist, pressing a warm kiss to my temple.
“You’re late,” I teased, checking my watch.
“Traffic on the mountain road was terrible,” Dante murmured, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
“There’s no mountain road near downtown, Dante,” I laughed.
“There is in my memory,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips gently against mine.
Across the room, a new waitress dropped a tray of water glasses with a loud, ringing crash that echoed over the ambient jazz music.
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I didn't flinch. I just smiled, resting my hands against Dante’s chest, knowing that whatever chaos the world tried to throw at us next, we had already survived the worst of the storm.
And for the first time in my life, I was exactly where I belonged.
