Chapter 15 - The Celebration in Milan
By Friday evening, the crisis in Zurich had been completely resolved, and the Castellano retinue moved south across the Alps into a private penthouse suite overlooking the sparkling Duomo di Milano in Milan.
The dining table of the penthouse was laden with authentic northern Italian delicacies: saffron risotto, osso buco, freshly baked focaccia, and a bottle of vintage Barolo.
Nina sat by the floor-to-ceiling glass window, watching the city lights twinkle beneath the Italian night sky.
The heavy leather dossier containing the liquidated European assets rested on the coffee table—proof that every stolen dollar from the Vasquez auto shop and the various other victims of the syndicate had been recovered and redirected into global humanitarian trusts.
Footsteps echoed softly across the parquet floor.
Lorenzo walked up behind her, holding two crystal flutes filled with sparkling prosecco. He handed one to Nina, then wrapped his strong, warm arms securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid chest.
"You look tired, Tesoro," Lorenzo whispered softly, pressing his lips gently against the crown of her dark hair. "The past two weeks have been a whirlwind."
"Not tired, Lorenzo," Nina smiled, leaning back against his unyielding strength, feeling the familiar, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. "Just... complete. For the first time in my life, I don't feel like there's a ghost hiding around the next corner."
Ghost trotted into the suite from the bedroom, carrying his favorite rubber toy in his jaws, tail wagging slowly as he flopped down beside Lorenzo’s custom leather shoes. Barnaby joined him a second later, curling up right beside his massive black shoulder.
"The ghosts are all locked behind iron bars, Nina," Lorenzo said, his deep baritone rich with quiet, sacred reverence. "Where they belong."
Nina turned in his arms, looking up into his warm, amber eyes, raising her prosecco flute.
May you like
"To the horizon," she toasted softly.
"To the horizon," Lorenzo echoed, touching his glass to hers with a crisp, clear chime that echoed through the quiet penthouse.
