Chapter 8 - THE FLIGHT TERMINAL
The Geneva airfield was small, sterile, and quiet.
I slammed the SUV into park near the entrance, leaving the keys in the ignition, and ran through the sliding glass doors.
My boots echoed loudly on the polished tile floor.
I frantically scanned the small waiting area.
A few businessmen reading newspapers. A family drinking coffee.
No Matteo.
I ran to the departure board.
Flight 402 - Buenos Aires - STATUS: BOARDING.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I sprinted toward Gate 3, ignoring the strange looks from the security guards.
I reached the gate just as the attendant was closing the jet bridge door.
"Wait!" I yelled, out of breath. "Please, wait!"
The attendant looked at me sympathetically. "I'm sorry, ma'am, the flight is closed."
"My husband is on that plane," I pleaded, tears threatening to spill. "I just need to see him."
"I can't let you through without a boarding pass."
I stepped back, absolute despair washing over me.
I was too late.
He was gone.
I turned around, staring blankly at the empty terminal rows.
I had survived the mob. I had survived a shootout in Chicago. I had survived three months of isolation.
And I had lost the man I loved because I was ten minutes too late.
I sank into a plastic terminal chair, burying my face in my hands, and finally let the tears fall.
I cried for the fear, for the lies, and for the beautiful, terrifying man who had given up everything he was just to keep me safe.
"You shouldn't be crying."
The voice was deep, rough, and painfully familiar.
I froze.
I slowly lifted my head.
Standing ten feet away, leaning heavily on a cane, was Matteo Rossi.
He looked thinner. The sharp cut of his expensive suits was replaced by a simple dark sweater and jeans. His face bore the scars of the warehouse fight, and he leaned heavily on his injured leg.
But his dark eyes...
His dark eyes were exactly the same.
Intense. Protective. And filled with an overwhelming, desperate love.
"Matteo," I breathed, standing up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.
He didn't move toward me.
He stayed where he was, gripping the cane tightly.
"Luca wasn't supposed to tell you where I was," Matteo said, his voice thick with emotion.
"Luca knows better than to lie to me," I shot back, taking a slow step toward him. "Why didn't you get on the plane?"
Matteo looked down at the floor.
"I watched the board," he whispered. "I watched the final call flashing. And I realized that a life without you and the baby isn't a life I want to survive."
He looked up at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears.
"I have nothing left, Norah. No money. No empire. No power. I can't buy you beautiful things anymore. I can't guarantee you security with a small army."
I closed the distance between us.
I stopped inches from him.
I reached up and gently placed my hand against his scarred cheek.
"I never wanted the money, Matteo," I said softly. "I never wanted the power. I just wanted you. The real you."
Matteo leaned into my touch, closing his eyes as a single tear escaped and rolled down his face.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking completely. "I'm so sorry for everything I put you through."
"I know," I whispered.
I lifted my left hand and placed it flat against his chest, right over his heart.
The diamond ring on my finger caught the harsh fluorescent light of the terminal.
Matteo opened his eyes, looking down at the ring.
A small, broken smile finally touched his lips.
He dropped the cane. It clattered to the floor.
He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest, burying his face in my neck.
I held him, breathing in the scent of him, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart against mine.
We stood there in the middle of the empty terminal, two broken people who had finally found their way back to each other.
"Come home," I whispered against his ear.
Matteo pulled back slightly, looking down at me with absolute adoration.
"Where is home?" he asked.
May you like
I smiled, taking his hand.
"Up in the mountains," I said. "There's a little boy who really needs to meet his father."
