Chapter 10 - THE SUITE UNDER THE STARS
Midnight found us far away from the flashing cameras of the ballroom, high above the glittering grid of the Chicago streets.
The penthouse suite at the top of the Moretti Grand Hotel had a private rooftop terrace enclosed in thick, curved architectural glass that framed the entire sweep of Lake Michigan and the illuminated skyline.
The kids had finally crashed, exhausted from too much excitement and too many mini-cupcakes, fast asleep in the adjoining suite under the watchful eye of a trusted nanny.
Luca and I stood out on the terrace, leaning against the glass railing, holding glasses of champagne. The cool night air carried the distant hum of the city below us like a low, soothing lullaby.
“Well,” Luca murmured, swirling the golden liquid in his flute. “We survived the gala. No lawsuits, no scandals, and the Wall Street Journal reporters actually looked human for once.”
“Speak for yourself,” I laughed softly, sipping my champagne. “I had three society matrons corner me near the dessert table asking if my floral arrangements were sustainable.”
Luca chuckled, setting his glass down on the stone ledge. He turned, sliding his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against his chest beneath the shelter of the Chicago stars.
I leaned back into him, resting my head against his shoulder, letting out a long, contented breath.
“Are you happy, Nia?” he whispered into my hair, his voice carrying a quiet, vulnerable weight.
I turned in his arms, wrapping my hands around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, looking up into those dark, familiar eyes that had once broken my world—and then painstakingly rebuilt it piece by piece.
“I’m happier than I ever thought possible, Luca,” I answered honestly. “The past is still part of us. The scars didn't magically vanish because we bought a bigger house or gave a speech at a gala. But every single day, you prove that love isn't just a feeling—it’s a choice. And you keep choosing us.”
Luca’s expression softened into an expression of profound, reverent adoration. He cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs gently tracing my cheekbones.
“Every single day for the rest of my life,” he promised.
May you like
He leaned down, capturing my lips in a slow, deep, unbroken kiss that tasted of champagne, cold night air, and a future that belonged entirely to us.
Far below us, the city lights twinkled like a million fallen stars, illuminating the streets of Chicago where a broken empire had finally been replaced by something far more enduring: a family, whole and healed at last.
