Page 80 of The New Godfather

The sound is deafening even from this distance — a deep, rolling boom that shakes the air. Fire blooms across the sky, orange and black, the wreckage tumbling down in pieces toward the water. As far as the world will know, we’re both dead. Their plane crashed into the sea. Their burnt bodies recovered in pieces. The news will run it for days.

We watch the pilot gently parachuting down. He will be picked up by another boat, and he will disappear from sight and never have to work a day in his life again.

At that point, we are quickly urged below deck into the small cabin. In the cabin, the world narrows down to just us again. The boat rocks gently beneath us as it speeds away, the engines a low, steady thrum. I watch her wrap a towel around little Freddie. He seems in good spirits. The dunking in the water was apparently fun for him. She puts him down, and he starts to explore the cabin. I pull her into my lap once more, her wet hair dripping onto my shirt, her body trembling from the cold and the adrenaline and everything we just survived. I wrap the blanket tighter around her, my arms locked around her waist, my forehead pressed to hers.

She’s safe.

We’re safe.

And for the first time in my life, the future doesn’t feel like a cage. It feels like ours to do what we want with it.

I kiss her slowly and taste salt water, sheer relief, and the woman I would burn the entire world down for all over again if I had to.

This is the beginning.

Not the end.

Chapter Seventy-Four

VIOLA

The boat’s cabin is small and warm, the wooden walls creaking softly with every gentle rock of the waves. A single lamp casts a golden glow over us, and the distant hum of the engines vibrates through the floor beneath my bare feet. I’m wrapped in a thick blanket Ricci pulled from somewhere, my wet hair dripping onto his shirt, but none of it matters. I melt into his arms, pressing my face against his chest, breathing in the salt and smoke and him. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek, strong and real, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I finally feel safe.

I can’t believe this is my life.

The plane, the jump, the explosion still echoing in my ears. It all feels like something from a movie. But his arms around me are solid, his hands stroking slow, soothing paths up and down my back. The terror that gripped me so hard is finally loosening its hold. I tilt my head up to look at him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“So where are we actually going?”

He smiles, that soft, private smile that still makes my stomach flutter even after everything. His fingers brush a damp strand of hair from my cheek, lingering there like he can’t stop touching me.

“It’s a secret,” he says, voice low and warm against my skin. “You’ll find out soon. But I know you’ll love it.”

The words settle over me like sunlight, and something bright and giddy blooms in my chest. Ecstatic. That’s the only word for it. I press closer, my lips brushing the line of his jaw, and I feel him smile against my temple.

I pull back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Who were the people in the plane?”

He doesn’t hesitate. His hand slides down to rest at the small of my back, holding me steady as the boat cuts through the water.

“A politician, a prostitute, and her pimp who were murdered a few months ago,” he says quietly. “I stored their bodies in a freezer. I figured they might come in handy one day.”

The casual way he says it should horrify me, but it doesn’t. Not anymore. Not after everything I’ve seen and felt. Given a second chance, I would choose him again. I nod, letting the pieces click together in my mind. He had planned for this. For us. From the very beginning, it seems.

He cups my face then, his thumbs brushing over my cheekbones, his eyes dark and intense in the low light.

“I’m in love with you, Viola,” he says thickly, like these words have been waiting years to be spoken. “I’ve been planning for this day since the first time I saw you. You will never see your family again, and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “They never cared about me when I was alive, so why would they care about me now that I am ‘dead’?”

“But you have me, and you have Freddie, and you will have our children when they come.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Yeah,” he nods, and I hug him warm and hard.

“I love you, Mr. Santori,” I whisper. “Oh wait. That’s not our name anymore, is it?”

He shrugs. “We have a few options.”