Chapter 4 - The Kitchen at MidnightBy midnight, the grand estate was dark and quiet again.
I walked down the grand marble staircase, wearing a comfortable black linen shirt and dark trousers, my leather dress shoes discarded.
The house smelled clean, carrying the faint scents of ocean salt, fresh rosemary, and warm vanilla.
I walked into the kitchen.
The warm ambient under-cabinet lights were on, casting a soft, golden glow across the white marble counters. Sitting on the counter near the open terrace doors was Grace.
She wore an oversized cream knit sweater and dark leggings, her hair pulled into a messy bun, her bare feet dangling off the edge of the stool. She was holding a mug of warm chamomile tea, looking out at the dark pool reflecting the palm trees and the night sky.
The crimson mark on her cheek had faded into a soft, light pink shadow.
I stopped in the doorway, watching her for a moment, feeling the heavy, suffocating weight of my world melt away into the quiet warmth of her presence.
Grace turned her head, offering a small, soft smile as she saw me. "Noah is fast asleep. He made me promise three times that I'd be here when he wakes up tomorrow."
"He loves you, Grace," I said softly, walking over to stand beside her counter stool.
"I love him too," she murmured, looking down at her tea mug. "Dante... I heard your mother's car earlier. I heard the shouting."
"My mother is leaving for her house in Palm Beach tomorrow morning," I replied, reaching out to set my hand flat against the cold marble counter beside her knee. "She won't bother you again."
Grace looked at my hand, then raised her hazel eyes to meet mine. "Vanessa's father... Marco told me he's a dangerous man. He controls the city's political permits. Are you in danger because of what happened today?"
A faint, quiet smile touched the corners of my lips.
"Julian Hart thinks he controls Miami because he buys politicians, Grace," I said smoothly, leaning in slightly until she could feel the warm, steady heat radiating from my frame. "He forgot that I control the men who stand behind those politicians."
Grace looked into my eyes—taking in the sharp, dangerous lines of my face, the dark intensity of my gaze, and the absolute, unshakeable protection radiating from my presence.
She didn't pull away. She reached out her small, soft hand and laid her palm gently over mine on the marble counter.
"Why did you do it, Dante?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath against the quiet room. "You could have handled Vanessa privately. You didn't have to break the engagement in front of everyone."
"I broke it the second her hand touched your face, Grace," I swore softly, my thumb gently caressing the side of her knuckles. "I should have broken it months ago. I was an idiot for letting my mother drag that woman into Noah's life."
Grace’s breath hitched slightly. "And now?"
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"And now," I murmured, stepping closer, my hand moving gently up to cup the side of her neck, my thumb stroking her soft jawline, "I'm going to give my son the home he deserves. With the woman he loves. And the woman I can't live without."
Grace gasped softly, her hazel eyes shining with hot, happy tears as she leaned into my palm, resting her forehead gently against mine in the quiet midnight light.
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