Chapter 6 - A Toast to the Queen
Six months later, the annual autumn gala hosted by the Boston Waterfront Association was held in the grand ballroom of the city’s premier luxury hotel.
It was an event dripping with old money, high-stakes politics, and underworld diplomacy. Men in immaculate tuxedos and women in glittering diamond-encrusted gowns drifted across the polished parquet floor, exchanging cautious smiles and whispered alliances.
Dominic Gallo stood near the edge of the room, holding a glass of scotch, watching the room with his usual guarded vigilance. But tonight felt different.
Across the ballroom, standing near the marble fountain with a group of city judges and cultural preservation board members, was Nora.
She wore a breathtaking emerald-green silk gown that caught the chandelier light with every movement. She was laughing gracefully at a remark made by the Chief of Police, her posture radiating an effortless, magnetic authority that commanded the attention of every powerful person in the room. No one dared interrupt her conversation; no one dared treat her as an accessory. They recognized royalty when they saw it—even if she carried an art restorer’s business card in her clutch.
As Dominic watched her, a familiar figure materialized beside him. It was Marcus, his chief enforcer, holding a silver tray of champagne. “Quiet night, Boss,” Marcus murmured, watching the crowd. “Not a single threat in sight. Word is, the West Side Syndicate held a mandatory meeting last month instructing all members to cross the street if they see Mrs. Gallo coming.”
Dominic smiled, taking a slow sip of his scotch. “Good. People should learn to respect property lines.”
“You know, Boss,” Marcus added, casting a sidelong glance at Dominic. “When you married her, a lot of the old guard thought you were going soft. Thought you were bringing a lamb into a den of wolves.”
Dominic’s smile widened into a sharp, genuine grin. He looked back across the room just as Nora caught his eye. She raised her champagne glass slightly in a silent, conspiratorial toast, her dark eyes flashing with brilliant, unyielding intelligence.
“They were right, Marcus,” Dominic said quietly, never breaking eye contact with his wife. “We brought a lamb into the den.”
May you like
He paused, watching her effortlessly charm a senator into approving the city’s new historical preservation grant.
“We just forgot to mention she was raised by wolves.”
