Chapter 9 - The Vow of Iron and Velvet
Two weeks later, the snow had settled over Lake Michigan like a blanket of crushed diamonds.
The Velvet Room was closed to the public for the night. The high mahogany bar was illuminated by soft candlelight, and the gentle sounds of a solo pianist filled the elegant lounge.
Clara stood near the end of the bar where she had sat alone three months ago.
She wore a breathtaking emerald green silk gown that hugged her voluptuous curves, her dark hair falling in lush waves down her back. But she was no longer drinking bourbon to numb the pain. She held a glass of vintage champagne, her cheeks glowing with health, happiness, and love.
The private back doors opened, and Vincent walked out, dressed in a sharp charcoal tuxedo.
He walked across the polished floor toward her, his eyes locked onto hers with absolute devotion. Standing behind him were Leo, his top lieutenants, and a small group of trusted friends.
Vincent stopped in front of Clara, pulling the small red velvet box from his pocket. He dropped to one knee on the hardwood floor.
The most feared mob boss in Chicago—a man who made politicians tremble and enemies disappear—knelt at the feet of the woman he loved.
He opened the velvet box. Inside rested a massive, flawless emerald diamond surrounded by a halo of tiny black diamonds, set in platinum.
"Clara Jenkins," Vincent said, his deep voice resounding through the quiet lounge. "Three months ago, you sat at this bar thinking your life was over. You didn't know that my life was just beginning the moment I looked through that glass and saw you."
Clara covered her mouth with her hand, tears of pure joy spilling over her lashes.
"You brought warmth into my cold world," Vincent continued, his gray eyes shining with raw truth. "You gave me a reason to protect something beautiful. I don't offer you a peaceful life, Clara, but I offer you my heart, my empire, my name, and my eternal protection. Will you marry me?"
Clara dropped to her knees beside him on the floor, throwing her arms around his broad neck, kissing his lips with all the love burning in her soul.
"Yes!" she sobbed happily against his mouth. "Yes, Vincent! A thousand times yes!"
Vincent slipped the emerald ring onto her finger, then lifted her up into his arms, spinning her around the quiet floor as his men erupted into loud, joyful cheers and applause.
Leo poured champagne for everyone, raising his glass high. "To the King and Queen of Chicago!"
"To the King and Queen!" the men echoed loudly.
May you like
Vincent set Clara down, holding her tightly against his chest, his lips brushing against her hair.
"No more tears, my sweet girl," Vincent whispered into her ear. "From this night on, Chicago belongs to us."
