Chapter 15 - The True Mistress of the Rossi DynastyLater that evening, after the grand reception at the Drake Hotel had wound down into soft music, clinking crystal, and lively laughter, Matteo and Clara stood together on the private master terrace of their Prairie Avenue mansion.
A gentle summer breeze rustled the sheer curtains behind them, carrying the clean, crisp scent of Lake Michigan and the blooming roses from the gardens below.
Inside the softly lit salon, Mrs. Higgins was sitting by the fire, holding a sleeping Ruby in her arms, softly singing an old nursery rhyme as our little giant slept soundly against her chest.
Matteo held Clara from behind, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, his chin resting gently on her shoulder.
Clara’s left hand rested over his, the platinum and sapphire rings catching the silver glow of the Midwestern moon.
“Are you tired, Donna Clara?” Matteo whispered into her ear.
Clara leaned back against the broad, solid warmth of his chest, smiling up at the starlit sky, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against her shoulder blades.
She thought of the cold banquet floor, the shattered crystal decanter, the eighty dollars in her tea tin, and the moment a man with a scarred jaw had reached into his pocket to show her a flattened copper token.
“Not anymore, Matteo,” she whispered back, turning in his arms to cup his rugged face in her hands. “Tonight, I’m finally home.”
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He smiled—the soft, peaceful smile of a sovereign whose wars were won and whose soul was finally whole—and kissed his wife beneath the Midwestern stars.
THE END
