Chapter 3 - The Departure from Teterboro
By 6:00 AM on Friday, the private aviation terminal at Teterboro Airport was cold and slick with a fine morning mist.
Sophia stood by the black tarmac, her hand tightly gripping Lily’s small, warm palm, while her canvas duffel bag sat on the concrete beside her. She wore a simple navy trench coat and dark jeans, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. She looked like any working mother catching a regional flight—except for the sleek, twin-engine Gulfstream G650 idling fifty feet away, its jet turbines humming with a quiet, expensive fury.
A sleek black Maybach pulled up directly to the base of the boarding stairs.
The rear door opened, and Dominic Moretti stepped out.
He didn't look like a mob boss on his way to a hit. He wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over a fine cashmere turtleneck, his dark hair catching the silver light of dawn. He didn't carry luggage; men like Dominic had people to carry their lives for them.
He walked over, his stride long and effortless, his dark eyes sweeping over Sophia and Lily with an assessing glance.
"Morning," he said, his voice deep and smooth.
"Mr. Moretti," Sophia began, her voice tight with residual panic. "I want to state for the record that I think this is a catastrophic mistake. If you turn around right now, I will make up an excuse for my family—"
"Good morning, Friend!" Lily chirped happily, breaking away from Sophia’s grip and running straight toward Dominic.
Dominic froze. For a fraction of a second, the master of Manhattan looked entirely unequipped to handle a three-year-old child charging at his shins.
Then, with an awkwardness that was almost human, he crouched down on one knee, bringing himself down to Lily’s eye level.
Lily held up her stuffed rabbit. "Mr. Whiskers is coming too. He has his own seat."
Dominic looked at the battered gray rabbit, then up at Lily. A slow, faint twitch of amusement crossed the corner of his chiseled mouth.
"Does he require a seatbelt?" Dominic asked gravely.
"Yes," Lily nodded with absolute seriousness. "He gets carsick."
"Then we shall ensure the flight crew accommodates him," Dominic said.
He stood up, looking past Lily toward Sophia, whose jaw was practically resting on the tarmac.
May you like
"Shall we?" Dominic asked, gesturing toward the gleaming aircraft stairs. "Your father’s fences aren't going to mend themselves, and I believe we have a performance to rehearse."
Sophia opened her mouth to argue, but the sound of the jet turbines surging drowned out whatever protest she had prepared. She sighed, scooped Lily into her arms, and followed the most dangerous man in New York up the steps into the sky.
