Crown of Curves and Cash

The Moretti estate in Westchester County was a fortress of limestone, iron gates, and sprawling manicured gardens that rivaled European palaces.

When the Maybach rolled through the gates, Clara leaned back against the plush leather headrest, letting out a long sigh.

"You didn't have to put on quite such a theatrical show at the restaurant, Sal," Clara said, though a playful smile played on her lips. "Though watching Marcus wet his pants was admittedly the best dessert I've had all year."

Salvatore chuckled, a rich, warm sound. He turned toward her, resting his elbow on the console as he looked at her with undisguised adoration.

"It wasn't a show, Clara. Every word was absolute truth," Salvatore said quietly, his amber eyes locking onto hers. "For six months, I’ve watched you from afar at charity events, hiding behind oversized black coats because that miserable ex-husband of yours made you feel invisible. I wanted the whole city to know who you belong to now."

Clara’s heart skipped a beat. For years, she had been told her curves were a burden to be hidden. Salvatore treated her lush, 5-foot-8, size-20 figure like a masterpiece carved from marble. He worshipped every inch of her, pulling her close against his chest whenever they were alone, whispering that a real man wanted a woman, not a skeleton.

They stepped out into the grand marble foyer of the estate, where a row of domestic staff stood waiting.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti," the head housekeeper bowed respectfully.

Clara paused, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. "We haven't even signed the contract yet, Sal."

"The contract was drafted three weeks ago," Salvatore murmured, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms securely around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "A marriage of convenience on paper to protect my shipping logistics from federal overreach, and a permanent partnership in reality. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line."

Clara looked at her reflection in the massive entryway mirror. Standing beside Salvatore’s towering, muscular frame, she didn't look small. She looked magnificent. A queen standing beside her king.