Chapter 15 - The Sovereign Donna of the Sea
Later that evening, after the grand banquet at the Villa Vizcaya had wound down into soft Latin jazz, clinking crystal, and lively laughter, Matteo and Maeve stood together on the private master bridge of The Star of Mandalay.
The superyacht motored gently across the calm waters of Biscayne Bay, the city skyline glowing like a field of fallen stars behind them.
A gentle trade wind rustled the sheer linen curtains, carrying the clean, crisp scent of ocean salt and blooming jasmine from the shoreline.
Matteo held Maeve from behind, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, his chin resting gently on her shoulder.
Maeve’s hand rested over his, the platinum signet ring and the sixty-carat ruby catching the silver glow of the southern moon.
“Are you tired, Donna Maeve?” Matteo whispered into her ear.
Maeve leaned back against the broad, solid warmth of his chest, smiling up at the starlit sky, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her shoulder blades.
She thought of the cold teak deck, the snapped buttons, the fifteen hundred dollars a week in her account, and the moment a man with obsidian eyes had stepped through the salon doors and promised to sink a ship to keep her safe.
“Not anymore, Matteo,” she whispered back, turning in his arms to cup his rugged face in her hands. “Tonight, I’m finally home.”
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He smiled—the soft, peaceful smile of a sovereign whose wars were won and whose soul was finally whole—and kissed his wife beneath the southern stars.
THE END
