Chapter 9 - THE LAKE MICHIGAN SUNSET
Six months later.
Summer had arrived in Chicago, painting the skies over Lake Michigan in brilliant hues of sapphire blue, gold, and deep rose.
Rachel stood on the teak deck of Adrian’s fifty-foot yacht, The Provenance, as it glided smoothly across the calm waters two miles off the Chicago shoreline.
She wore a breezy white silk dress, her brown hair catching the warm summer breeze, a glass of chilled wine in her hand.
Behind her, the Chicago skyline stood tall and magnificent—including the distinctive glass dome of the Halston Museum, where her team had just opened the largest public Winslow Homer exhibit in American history.
Adrian stepped out onto the deck, wearing a casual linen shirt and navy trousers, wrapping his broad arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.
Rachel leaned back against his strong, warm chest, letting out a long, contented sigh.
“Happy?” Adrian whispered against her cheek.
“Completely,” Rachel smiled, turning her head to kiss his jawline. “Grant’s sentencing hearing was finalized this morning.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How long did he get?”
“Twenty-two years in federal prison,” Rachel said plainly. “No parole eligibility for fifteen years.”
Adrian tightened his arms around her waist, holding her close. “Good. He earned every single day.”
Rachel turned around in his arms, resting her hands against his chest, looking up into his dark, handsome face.
Over the last six months, Adrian had transformed her world. He was no longer the dangerous rumor whispered in dark corners—he was her anchor, her partner, her protector, and the man who loved her with a fierce, quiet devotion that made her feel entirely cherished.
“Do you remember what Grant said to Celeste in the coatroom?” Rachel asked softly.
Adrian frowned slightly. “He said a lot of foolish things.”
“He said I was never the future,” Rachel murmured, her eyes shining with warmth. “He said I was access.”
Adrian looked down at her, his face softening with an intensity of emotion that took her breath away.
He reached up, his large, warm hand cupping her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin.
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“Grant Holloway was a blind fool who looked at a masterpiece and only saw the frame,” Adrian said, his voice deep, thick, and filled with boundless love. “You are not access, Rachel. You are my future. You are my home.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, deep, passionate kiss that held all the truth, beauty, and devotion of a love built to last a lifetime.
