Chapter 9 - The Manhattan ReturnThree weeks later, the armored black SUVs rolled through the security gates of the Westchester estate—the very house Claire had walked out of five years ago with two suitcases.
The property had been maintained by a skeletal staff, but it had felt empty, cold, and dead.
Now, as the heavy front doors swung open, the echoing silence was shattered by the sound of small running feet, excited chatter, and the frantic barking of a golden retriever puppy Gabriel had hurriedly purchased to bribe his way into his sons' good graces.
Claire stood in the grand foyer, watching Samuel chase the puppy around the mahogany staircase while Julian inspected the vaulted ceilings.
Gabriel walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin softly on her shoulder.
“You didn't have to bring us back here, Gabriel,” Claire murmured, though she leaned back into his warmth, letting him hold her. “This house holds a lot of heavy memories.”
“Then we’re going to burn them down and build new ones,” Gabriel whispered against her hair. “Starting with tearing down that ridiculous formal parlor and turning it into a playroom. And I’m hiring a full-time security detail that stays outside the perimeter—no men with guns in the kitchen, no surprises, no threats. Just a home.”
Claire turned in his embrace, looking up into his gray-green eyes. The hard, untouchable mafia boss who ran New York’s shipping lanes was gone; in his place stood a man learning how to be a father and a husband all over again.
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“It’s going to take a long time to trust you, Gabriel,” she said quietly, her voice entirely honest.
“I have the rest of my life,” Gabriel replied, kissing her forehead. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
