When an older, traditional commission member approached and bowed his head in deep, genuine respect, Nora didn’t need Dante to defend her. She offered her hand with a gracious smile.
Later, as the orchestra swelled, Dante held out his hand. “Is this in the contract?” he teased.
“There is no contract,” she reminded him, taking his hand.
They danced beneath the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by the powerful elite of Chicago. Dante had married her to secure an empire, but Nora had taught him that an empire was worthless if it required destroying the honest things inside it. She had never been the transaction. She had been the miracle. And as she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, Nora knew she had finally found the one thing no amount of money or power could ever buy.
She had found her worth. And she had never let anyone take it away.
THE END