Chapter 10 - The Queen of Moretti Logistics
One month later.
The East Coast was quiet. The Santoro syndicate had been completely dismantled, its leaders awaiting trial in federal detention facilities, while their shipping routes and warehouses were systematically absorbed into Moretti Logistics without firing a single shot.
On a crisp, sunny Thursday afternoon, the administrative bullpen on the fifth floor was humming with its usual nervous energy.
Thirty junior accountants and clerks typed furiously at their terminals. Sylvia sat at her desk, organizing shipping slips, her eyes darting nervously toward the elevator bank.
The heavy elevator chimed.
The doors slid open.
Gabriel Moretti stepped out onto the floor.
He was magnificent in a charcoal three-piece suit, an overcoat draped over his arm, radiating the cold, unquestioned dominance of a king surveying his realm.
Beside him walked Paige.
She wore a bespoke emerald-green wool coat that cinched at her waist, her blonde hair falling in soft, immaculate waves over her shoulders. On her left ring finger sparkled a five-carat flawless diamond, flanked by two deep-green baguettes, catching the bright fluorescent lights overhead.
Behind them walked Nico, carrying a stack of priority manifests.
Thirty keyboards stopped clacking at almost exactly the same moment. The silence was absolute.
Gabriel didn’t look at the junior accountants. He didn’t look at Sylvia. He walked down the center aisle, stopping directly beside the filing station where Paige had once stood, exhausted and drowning in debt.
Paige stopped beside him. She reached into her leather portfolio, pulled out a thick blue folder containing the quarterly expansion contracts for the entire Eastern Seaboard, and turned toward him.
Gabriel looked down at her. His cold, slate-gray eyes softened into a look of profound, unconditional devotion that stunned every single person in the room. He extended his scarred hand.
Paige lifted the folder.
Placed it in his palm.
And with a dazzling, wicked smile that dared the entire world to challenge her, she looked directly into the eyes of the East Coast’s most ruthless kingpin and said:
“Here you go, honey.”
The word echoed through the silent bullpen like a gunshot.
Sylvia gasped, clutching her pearls. Two junior clerks dropped their pens.
Gabriel slowly took the folder from her fingers.
He didn’t tap it against his hand. He didn’t turn away.
Instead, in front of thirty paralyzed employees, Gabriel Moretti leaned down, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. He pressed a deep, lingering kiss to her lips, sealing their sovereignty before the entire room.
When he pulled back, a faint, dangerous smirk touched his lips as he looked out over his stunned workforce.
“Thank you, darling,” Gabriel said, his baritone rumbling through the quiet room.
He turned his head toward Sylvia, who looked like she might faint dead away.
“Give everyone a twenty percent raise,” Gabriel ordered calmly. “My wife says you’ve had a busy month.”
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With that, Gabriel laced his fingers through Paige’s, turning back toward the private elevator.
Paige looked over her shoulder, giving the wide-eyed bullpen one last playful wink before the elevator doors closed, carrying the king and his queen back up to the top of the world.
