“One more thing, baby bird. You’re no princess in a tower. No matter what you might think, or what Frank calls you. You’re my king, Finch D’Amato. Don’t you ever forget that.” I give him a lazy blissed-out smile. “And you,” I tell him, “are my emperor. Make sure you rule over me wisely.” He laughs at that. “There’s no one alive who could rule over you, baby bird, not unless you allowed it. I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He knows me, this man of mine. He knows me.
