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“You have to promise me, Rafael?—”

“Dolcezza—”

“No,” she interrupts sharply. “You have to promise. You have to swear you won’t disappear again. You won’t make me a fool. You won’t make me regret this.”

“What have I told you?” I ask, taking her hand in mine. “I won’t ever lie to you. It will never happen again.”

“A part of me hates that I believe you.”

“Because I’m telling the truth. I would like to see you… exclusively.”

It’s a privilege watching the slow smile that lights up her beautiful face. She squeezes at my hand, glowing from more than the candlelight on the dinner table.

“Alright,” she agrees, then she bites at her bottom lip. “I would really like that.”

The mood for the rest of dinner is light and enjoyable.

We’re served freshly made Italian dishes that we gorge on, topping it off with more wine than we should probably have. Portia laughs at my story about the first time I traveled to America and how I’d gotten lost on the city bus in Newport.

Before I was ever a billionaire. Before I was even a millionaire.

Back when being Rafael Calderone meant nothing to no one.

She sips from her wine glass and shakes her head. “I wish I would’ve run into you! I would’ve helped you find your way.”

“How,dolcezza? You’re even younger than me. You must’ve still been in school.”

“Jay and I have been taking the city bus since we were eight. We could’ve helped you.”

“Do you want to live in Newport for the rest of your life?”

“You know, I’m not sure. Lincoln always tried to get me to move out west to be closer to his family. I’m glad I didn’t take the bait. We saw how well our marriage worked out. It would have to feel right… and it never did with him,” she explains, frowning in thought. “How about you? Will Newport be your permanent home or will you jet set for the rest of your life, Mr. Forbes?”

I grin crookedly. “I knew it was a mistake to be photographed on the cover. Newport is a magnificent city… but it’s not home.”

“Sicily is.”

“It would be nice to return someday. Permanently. But it would depend on many factors.”

“Such as?”

“I would be settling down with a family. Somewhere in the countryside in a nice villa. There would be nothing else for me to accomplish.”

She hums. “That sounds peaceful. But what else could you possibly have to accomplish? Becoming a trillionaire?”

“You’d be surprised,dolcezza. My to-do list isn’t even halfway complete.”

Neither is Il Diavolo’s. Newport is mine, but is the Bellucci empire? Until it is… there will be no peaceful retirement…

We lean closer to meet for a kiss. Portia draws back already smiling and peering into my eyes, then she notices the collar of my shirt.

“Blood,” she says. “Are you okay?”

I glance down at the tiny speck on my otherwise pristine white shirt. A throaty chuckle leaves me as I wipe at the dry spot with my cloth napkin as if it’ll clean it up.

“Where did this come from? Maybe from earlier. A shaving accident. I trimmed my beard.”

Her smile falters for only a second before she leans close again for another kiss.