Chapter 10 - The Empire Strikes Back
Three months later, the front-page headline of the Chicago Tribune Business Journal read:
STERLING CORP COLLAPSES AMID FEDERAL FRAUD PROBE; ASSETS SEIZED BY FIERRO HOLDINGS.
I sat in the leather-upholstered penthouse office on the forty-fifth floor of the Fierro Tower, looking out over the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan through floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Below us, the city crawled with tiny cars and bustling crowds, completely unaware of the tectonic shifts happening in the boardrooms above.
My desk wasn't made of cheap laminate anymore. It was polished walnut, flanked by fresh white orchids and a framed photograph of Lily laughing on the swings in Millennium Park, wearing a brand-new burgundy coat that she had picked out herself.
The door behind me clicked open.
Footsteps echoed softly across the imported Turkish rug. A pair of warm, familiar hands settled gently on my shoulders, fingers massaging the tension from my neck with practiced ease.
"You've been staring at the lake for twenty minutes, Jessica," Giovanni murmured, his lips brushing the top of my ear. "If you keep analyzing the shipping lanes, you're going to give yourself an aneurysm."
I leaned back against his chest, letting out a soft sigh as I closed my eyes.
"I was just thinking about the Bellmont Grand," I admitted, turning my head slightly to look up at him. "Three months ago, I was sitting by the kitchen doors hiding from my family, wondering how I was going to pay for next month's rent."
"And now?" Giovanni asked, his amber eyes dancing with amusement.
"Now I'm the primary shareholder of my ex-husband's former employer, my daughter has a heart team that treats her like royalty, and my mother sends me fruit baskets every Tuesday hoping I'll invite her to dinner."
Giovanni chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that vibrated through his chest. "Your mother is learning the value of strategic diplomacy. Give her another month and she'll be organizing charity galas in our honor."
"Speaking of diplomacy," I said, turning fully in my chair to face him, crossing my arms over my silk blouse. "Tyler called my personal cell phone this morning."
The playful warmth in Giovanni’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a sharp, predatory glint that reminded me of the man who had pulled me onto the dance floor three months ago.
"What did he want?" Giovanni asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"He wanted to know if I could put in a good word for him with the new logistics director," I said, a dry, triumphant smile touching my lips. "Apparently, working a minimum-wage job at a downtown parking garage is a bit more complicated than he remembered."
"And what did you tell him?"
"I told him," I said, reaching across the walnut desk to pick up a single, pristine black titanium card bearing my own name engraved in silver, "that I was too busy running an empire."
Giovanni smiled, leaning down to press a warm, deliberate kiss against my lips.
"Good girl," he whispered against my mouth. "Now, put the paperwork down. Lily is waiting downstairs in the lobby with three boxes of raspberry pastry, and we have a very important appointment to keep at the ice cream parlor."
May you like
I stood up, sliding my hand into his, feeling the solid, unyielding strength of his fingers wrapped around mine. The fear, the exhaustion, and the bitter memories of the past were gone, replaced by something far more powerful—a future we had built together, brick by brick, from the ashes of a wedding we both survived.
"Lead the way, Mr. Fierro," I smiled.
