Chapter 23 IZZY
IZZY
When we step outside the warehouse, the night air hits my face like a slap of cold water.
I’m still shaking.
Everything feels unreal. The gun in my hand only minutes ago. The knife at my throat. Vladimir Pavlov’s body hitting the floor. Suddenly, none of that matters anymore. Noah is alive. That’s the only thought my brain seems capable of holding.
Nico walks beside me, one arm around my shoulders. Noah is half asleep against his chest, his small arms still looped tightly around Nico’s neck like he’s afraid someone might take him again.
“I should tell you something,” I say quietly.
Nico glances down at me.
“I had never shot a gun before tonight.”
His eyebrow lifts slightly.
“I figured.”
“I was terrified,” I admit. “I thought I was going to shoot Noah. Or you, somehow.”
Make the right choice, Nico had murmured to me then. I knew he was telling me to aim to the right. The furthest from where Noah was. So that, if I made a mistake, I wouldn’t risk hitting him. I aimed high. I aimed right.
I nearly hit that fuckface Vladimir.
And I did not hit my son.
That’s the part that scared me the most. The part that still scares me. Because it was reckless and stupid and if I’d been even just slightly off—
Nico stops walking for a moment and turns me gently toward him. The corner of his mouth lifts in that calm, confident way that still makes my stomach do stupid things. “You didn’t,” he says, as if he’s been reading my thoughts.
“I almost did.”
“But you didn’t,” he repeats. His hand brushes the back of my neck, grounding me. “You did exactly what needed to be done.”
My throat tightens.
“You saved him,” he says softly.
I shake my head and glance at Noah sleeping against him.
“You saved him too.”
For a second we just stand there in the middle of the dockyard, the wind coming off the water, the distant sounds of men finishing the cleanup behind us.
Then, I notice the group waiting a few yards away.
And I blink.
Because I know them.
“... What the hell?”
Erin is the first one to reach me.
Except this is not the Erin I know from the restaurant floor.
This Erin is dressed in black, armed, and looks like she walked straight out of a crime movie.
She pulls me into a fierce hug.
“Oh my God, Izzy, are you okay?”
“I— yes,” I manage.
Savannah reaches us next, checking my face like she’s assessing damage. Rose and Amber follow right behind her.
They look completely different from the women I worked with for years.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Dangerous, even.
“What are you all doing here?” I ask.
Erin snorts.
“We heard the calls between the Dons.”
Savannah crosses her arms. “And decided there was no way in hell we were abandoning our friend.”
Amber smiles faintly. “You missed a lot.”
Rose laughs softly. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”
I step back and look at them properly.
And suddenly I see it.
Each woman reaches for someone beside her.
Erin’s hand slips into Luca’s.
Savannah stands shoulder to shoulder with Riccardo.
Rose links arms with Giovanni.
Amber leans lightly against Matteo.
The realization hits me slowly.
The impossible thing that happened to me—
It happened to all of them too.
They found love.
All of them.
I look up at Nico.
He’s watching me with quiet patience, Noah still asleep in his arms.
I slide my fingers into his.
Our son between us.
“Let’s go home,” I say. “And after that, we can talk about docking everyone’s pay for faking sick.”
The girls burst out laughing.
Nico looks into my eyes, impossibly soft and affectionate, and I know, in my heart, that I’ve never stopped loving him for a second, not for the whole seven years we were apart.
“Yes, mia regina,” he whispers into my ear as he presses a kiss to the side of my head. “Let’s go home. All of us.”
All of us. Him, me, and Noah.
Our family—finally whole.
The aftermath is handled the way mafia aftermaths always are: discreetly enough that you start to wonder if you dreamed the whole thing.
The news never reports what happened at the docks. No investigations are opened. The bodies of the Pavlov men disappear overnight, and the fish look really smug and chubby come morning.
The Pavlov organization collapses so fast it’s like it never existed. Only one of them, Georg Pavlov, is still alive, but going by what Nico’s friend Giovanni says, that won’t last long. Apparently, he’s holding someone very dear to Amber hostage, and they have a plan to free her.
I have no doubt they will succeed.
And, as New York slowly goes back to normal, the message spreads through the city without anyone saying it out loud.
The Bronx Don does not forget.
And he sure as fuck does not forgive.
I recover under Nico’s roof.
Noah sleeps down the hall with two guards outside his door. I hate it at first. The idea of strangers standing watch over my child feels wrong in a hundred ways.
But the alternative is worse.
So, I learn to live with it.
Notte Bianca doesn’t survive the chaos. Too many bad reviews. Too many nights of terrible service while half the staff was otherwise occupied.
The place shuts down within weeks.
Everyone is sad in a way. But, we’re also not surprised.
“That place was horribly run,” I admit one afternoon while we’re all sitting in Nico’s living room.
Savannah laughs. “The Bernardi family was the worst.”
“I loved it, though,” I say quietly. “I wish I could have it back. Only without the awful bosses.”
Nico says nothing.
Which should have been my first clue.
The next evening, he blindfolds me.
“Not to be rude, but I think I’d like this better in the bedroom,” I say as he guides me out of the car.
“Do you trust me?”
My heart skips a beat. “Always,” I whisper.
His hand stays firmly at the small of my back as he leads me forward.
When he finally removes the blindfold—
I stop breathing.
Notte Bianca.
The lights are on. The tables are set. The restaurant is empty except for us.
I turn slowly in the middle of the room.
“What…?”
“I bought it,” Nico says simply.
I stare at him.
“You what?”
“Got a good price too,” he adds dryly. “That Donald guy seems to be scared of me. Can’t imagine why.”
My brain struggles to catch up.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” He gestures around the dining room. “It’s yours now. Do whatever you want with it. Starting tomorrow.”
My chest tightens.
“Nico…”
“But for tonight,” he adds softly, “you’re not the boss yet. So sit down and enjoy, mia regina.”
Before I can respond, Erin appears like a proper hostess.
“Good evening,” she says with exaggerated professionalism. “Table for two?”
I laugh through the tears already gathering in my eyes.
Amber appears with a bottle of wine.
“The house’s best,” she says, pouring carefully.
Rose brings a small arrangement of flowers and sets them in the center of the table.
“Daffodils, tulips, and cherry blossoms,” she says with a wink. “New beginnings.”
Savannah delivers the food herself, placing each dish down like she’s presenting art.
For a moment I just sit there taking it all in.
The lights. The laughter. My friends. And then, Nico.
God, he looks unfairly good tonight. Dark suit, sleeves rolled slightly at the wrists, that calm dangerous presence he carries like a second skin.
When he catches me staring, his mouth curves slightly.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“You were looking at me.”
“I was appreciating the investment.”
He leans back slightly in his chair, amused.
“Was that what you were appreciating?”
My cheeks warm. “Yes. Definitely nothing else.”
He looks at me knowingly, and my breath stutters. I already know I’m going to pay for this in the bedroom. Don Neri does not take kindly to secrets—and me keeping to myself just how much I want to jump his bones right now definitely counts as one.
Dinner is, in one word, perfect.
The food. The wine. The girls drifting in and out of the room, laughing like this is the last night of an old life before everything changes.
I soak it all in.
Because it feels like something important.
When the plates are cleared, I reach across the table and take Nico’s hand.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “That was perfect.”
He studies me for a moment.
“Not everything is perfect yet.”
Before I can ask what he means, music starts.
A string quartet steps into the corner of the room.
I blink.
“What—”
Nico stands.
Then he walks around the table.
And gets down on one knee.
My heart completely stops.
“Isabella Eleonora Hartwell,” he says.
His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes that steals the air from my lungs.
“I spent most of my life believing kings stand alone.”
He takes my hand.
“You proved me wrong.”
Emotion rises so fast in my chest I can barely breathe.
“You are my queen,” he says quietly. “You always were. I was just too stubborn to admit it.”
He opens the small velvet box.
The ring inside catches the light. It’s a beautiful vintage piece, with a ridiculously huge diamond in the middle and a cluster of smaller stones crowded around it.
I recognize it from the picture he once showed me of his mother.
It’s her ring. His mother’s ring.
Emotion chokes me. “Nico…”
“Will you marry me,” he asks softly, “and rule beside me now and forever?”
I’m already crying. Because it’s too much. Too soon. And too perfect for words.
“Are you kidding?” I laugh through the tears. “Yes. Yes, Don Neri, I will marry you.”
He slides the ring onto my finger.
Then he stands and pulls me into his arms.
And when he kisses me, and the whole world feels like it finally settled into the place it was always meant to be.