Crown of Curves and Cash

A year later, the media frenzy surrounding the notorious underworld billionaire and his stunning, voluptuous wife had quieted down into respectful awe.

The Moretti Shipping Logistics and Engineering Foundation was now one of the top philanthropic and industrial powerhouses in the country, co-managed by Salvatore and Clara.

On a private terrace overlooking the Amalfi coast in Italy, the warm Mediterranean breeze caught the edge of Clara’s flowing white summer dress as she stood by the stone balustrade, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of gold and violet.

Footsteps approached softly from behind, and strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid, familiar chest.

"You're quiet tonight, Mrs. Moretti," Salvatore murmured against her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her skin.

Clara leaned back into his embrace, resting her hands over his arms. "I was just thinking about that day at The Gilded Spoon. If Marcus hadn't humiliated me... if he hadn't left me standing there with my plate of carbonara..."

"Then I would have had to find another way to make you my wife," Salvatore finished smoothly, turning her gently in his arms so she was facing him.

He looked down at her with an intensity that never faded—the look of a man who had conquered the world and found his ultimate prize standing right in front of him.

"You know, everyone in New York still talks about the Godfather's XXL wife," Clara smiled teasingly, tracing the strong line of his jaw.

Salvatore’s expression turned fierce and absolute. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers before whispering against her mouth.