Chapter 6 - A Promise on Prince Street
Six Months Later
The spring sunshine warmed the cobblestones of Prince Street. The smell of fresh coffee, blooming jasmines, and cinnamon oil filled the air beneath the colorful paper lanterns of the Saturday market.
My restoration booth was open, displaying beautifully refinished oak tables, restored antique mirrors, and delicate wooden boxes.
Emma sat on a small wooden stool near the front, wearing a bright yellow dress. In her lap sat her favorite glass mason jar, now filled to the brim with hundreds of colorful, rare buttons collected from all over the world.
A tall man in a dark, perfectly tailored suit walked through the crowd. The patrons moved aside respectfully, smiling as Alessandro Moretti approached our stall.
He didn't look like a feared mob boss today. He looked like a man at absolute peace.
"Did you bring them?" Emma asked, jumping up from her stool.
Alessandro smiled, kneeling down on the cobblestones right in front of her. He pulled a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened it. Inside rested a single, perfectly polished star-shaped button carved out of white mother-of-pearl.
"Fresh from the artisan in Florence," Alessandro said gently.
Emma gasped, taking the pearl star button and placing it right into the center of her mason jar. "It's perfect!"
Alessandro stood up and turned to me. He stepped behind my restoration counter, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder as I polished the surface of an old oak frame.
"The wedding venue in Santa Barbara is confirmed for October," he murmured against my ear, his breath warm and comforting. "And Marco insists on being the ring bearer."
I laughed, setting down my polishing cloth and turning around in his arms to look up into his dark, loving eyes. "Marco as a ring bearer? The tabloids will have a field day."
"Let them," Alessandro smiled softly. "They can write whatever they want. The Moretti family business is officially legal, the docks are secure, and my wife-to-be is the most dangerous restorer in New York."
"I only did what had to be done," I whispered, reaching up to touch the faint scar near his temple.
"You saved us, Clara," Alessandro said, his tone growing serious, full of a deep, unending devotion. "Both of you. You gave a man who had everything a reason to actually live."
Emma ran over and hugged both of our legs, looking up with a huge grin. "Does this mean we get to eat ice cream now?"
May you like
Alessandro laughed—a rich, joyful sound that echoed down Prince Street—and scooped Emma up onto his shoulder.
"Ice cream for the boss," Alessandro declared, taking my hand in his as we walked together down the sunlit street. "Whatever the boss wants."
