Chapter 7 - The Crown of Roses
Three months later.
The sun was shining brightly over Lake Michigan, casting a brilliant blue light across the balcony of Dominic's penthouse. The spring breeze blew softly, carrying the scent of blooming jasmine and fresh rain.
I stood near the stone balustrade, wearing a simple cream sweater and jeans, holding a warm cup of coffee in my hands.
Sitting on a sunbed nearby was Macaroni, the orange cat, purring loudly as Gemma fed him pieces of fresh salmon.
"I still can't believe you kept him," Gemma laughed, tossing a piece of fish to the cat. "He used to scratch everyone who walked into my apartment."
"He likes me," I smiled, walking over to sit beside her. "And he likes Dominic."
"Dominic gives him ribeye steak under the dinner table when he thinks you aren't looking," Gemma smirked, leaning back against her pillows. "My terrifying Don brother has turned into a absolute softie."
"Only for two people," a deep voice rumbled behind us.
Dominic stepped out onto the balcony, dressed in a dark grey suit, his tie loosened at his collar. Gemma rolled her eyes playfully, standing up and grabbing Macaroni.
"I'll leave you two lovebirds alone," Gemma chuckled, slipping back inside the penthouse, leaving the heavy glass doors open behind her.
Dominic walked over to where I sat. He didn't say a word. He simply reached down, taking my coffee mug from my hands and setting it on the side table, before pulling me up into his arms.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, resting my head against his broad chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart.
"You're home early," I murmured.
"I had an important delivery to oversee," Dominic whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my temple.
He pulled back slightly, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. He pulled out a small velvet box—the same kind of box he had handed me in the back of his SUV four months ago.
My breath hitched in my chest.
Dominic didn't drop to his knee. He didn't need performative antics. He simply held the open box between us.
Inside sat a breathtaking emerald-cut diamond ring, set on a band of pure platinum, surrounded by tiny, brilliant sapphires—matching the cheap ring Gemma and I had bought years ago, but elevated into something eternal.
"Four months ago," Dominic said, his voice raw with deep, unwavering devotion, "you walked into my life expecting pity and laughter for being innocent. You thought your quiet life was a shield to protect you from dangerous men."
He gently lifted my left hand, his long, warm fingers sliding the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
"You didn't need protection from the world, Clara," Dominic whispered, bringing my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly. "The world needed protection from you. You saved my sister. You saved my empire. And you saved me."
Tears of pure happiness brimmed in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks.
"I promised myself I would never trust a man like you, Dominic," I whispered, reaching up to cup his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath my fingers.
Dominic smiled—a brilliant, rare, breathtaking smile that belonged only to me.
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"And I promise you, Clara," he swore, pulling me tight against his chest, leaning down to capture my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, "I will spend every second of my life making sure you never regret breaking that promise."
Above us, the Chicago sky opened into a sea of endless gold, warming the quiet life we had built together from the shadows—a life that was finally, gloriously, completely ours.
