Chapter 10 - THE EMPIRE OF LOVETwo years later.
The Tuscan sun shone brightly over the grand terrace of the Gallagher Private Estate in Florence, Italy.
The estate sat atop a rolling green hill surrounded by acres of blooming olive trees, golden vineyards, and ancient stone walls.
Sitting on a long teak wood dining table was a massive spread of Italian pastries, fresh fruits, and hot coffee.
Mateo and Marco sat at the end of the table, laughing as they drank wine and debated football scores with local Italian guards.
In the center of the terrace, wearing a loose, flowing yellow summer dress, was Abby.
Her plush, voluptuous body looked radiant in the warm Italian light. Her skin was golden, her dark hair tied up in a loose silk scarf, and around her neck sat a simple gold chain with two small lockets.
She was cradling a six-month-old baby boy with dark hair and striking hazel eyes—little Arthur Declan Gallagher.
Footsteps sounded against the stone floor.
Declan stepped onto the terrace, wearing loose white linen trousers and an unbuttoned blue shirt. He looked relaxed, powerful, and deeply at peace, the dark shadows of his mob past completely erased from his handsome face.
He walked up behind Abby, wrapping his warm arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he looked down at their sleeping son.
"He looks like a troublemaker," Declan whispered into her ear, kissing her soft cheek.
"He looks like his father," Abby smiled, leaning back against his chest. "Which means he’s going to be stubborn, dramatic, and fall in love with his housekeepers."
Declan let out a deep, booming laugh that made the baby wiggle happily in her arms.
"I only fell in love with one housekeeper, Mrs. Gallagher," Declan murmured, his large hand gently cupping her face, turning her lips toward his. "And she turned out to be the greatest ruler Chicago ever had."
"Chicago is doing fine without us," Abby whispered, her lips brushing his. "The foundation opened three new medical centers last week."
"I don't care about Chicago," Declan growled softly, his hazel eyes locked onto hers with an absolute, eternal devotion that made her heart race just as fast as it had on the night he collapsed at her door. "I only care about my empire right here."
He bent down, capturing her lips in a deep, warm, passionate kiss that tasted of sweet wine, summer air, and a love that had survived blood, war, and time itself.
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As the sun began to set over the rolling hills of Tuscany, painting the sky in brilliant shades of pink, gold, and purple, Don Declan Gallagher held his queen tight—a man who had lost his life to the world, only to find everything in the arms of the woman who saved him.
THE END
