Chapter 12 - A Lapidary’s True Crown
By late January, the winter season in Miami had reached its peak of glorious, golden perfection.
The turquoise waters of Biscayne Bay sparkled like crushed sapphires beneath the clear sky, and the palm trees on Star Island swayed gently in the trade winds.
The superyacht Sovereign, completely refitted with state-of-the-art environmental propulsion and rechristened The Star of Mandalay, lay anchored off the private beach of their estate.
One sunny Saturday morning, Maeve walked into the private master studio adjoining their bedroom.
The room was bathed in northern morning light, smelling of diamond dust, mineral oil, and fresh ocean air.
Sitting on the worktable was a raw, unshaped parcel of twenty rough Colombian emeralds that Matteo had secured from an ethical cooperative in Muzo.
Beside the bench lay an iron chisel and a leather tool roll that had belonged to her father.
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor.
Matteo walked into the studio, wearing casual linen trousers and an open white shirt, holding two cups of fresh Cuban coffee.
He set the cups onto the desk, stepping behind her chair, resting his large hands on her shoulders.
“What will you cut next, Maeve?” he asked softly, his thumbs gently massaging the tension from her neck.
Maeve looked down at the rough emeralds, running her fingers over the cool, unpolished stone.
“I will cut twenty matched baguettes, Matteo,” she smiled, leaning her head back against his chest. “To frame a new pendant for our family’s collection.”
Matteo smiled—a soft, breathtaking smile that completely erased every lingering shadow of violence from his face—and kissed the crown of her head.
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“Take your time, my Donna,” he whispered. “The harbor is quiet. The ships are safe. And we have all the time in the world.”
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