Chapter 10 - What Money Couldn't Buy
It was two in the morning when the Bentley pulled up outside the dark, quiet facade of Honey & Rye Bakery.
The gala was over. Lily was fast asleep at Roman’s estate under the watchful eye of Aunt Sophia, who had officially declared Clare 'the best thing to happen to the Duca family since imported olive oil'.
Roman walked Clare to the front door of the bakery, unlocking the heavy brass lock for her. The interior smelled faintly of vanilla, cinnamon, and cool flour—a comfort that instantly washed away the noise of the Drake Hotel.
Clare stepped inside, taking off her high heels with a satisfied sigh. She walked behind the counter, reaching up to unlace the heavy sapphire necklace from her neck.
“Leave it on,” Roman’s voice came from the doorway. He had stepped inside, locking the door behind him and turning off the exterior lights.
“It’s too expensive, Roman,” Clare said, holding the cold sapphire in her hand. “I can't keep this.”
Roman walked across the polished wood floor, his dark tuxedo jacket coming off and landing carelessly over a chair. He walked behind the counter—into her space, her domain—and stood directly behind her.
He took the necklace from her hands, setting it on the glass display case. Then his big hands came around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
“It’s not expensive enough,” Roman whispered, burying his face in the warm curve of her neck. “Nothing I own is enough for you.”
Clare leaned back into his strength, letting her eyes close as a deep, profound peace settled over her. “You don't have to buy me things, Roman. You never did.”
“I know,” Roman said, his hands gently turning her around until she was facing him in the dim moonlight filtering through the front window. “I spent thirty-eight years thinking everything in this world had a price tag. Respect. Loyalty. Safety. I thought if I had enough money and enough power, I could protect everyone I cared about.”
He reached up, gently cradling her face in his warm palms.
“Then my brother died,” Roman continued, his voice thick with raw emotion. “And I realized money couldn't bring him back. It couldn't make Lily talk. It couldn't fix my empty house.”
He looked down into Clare’s eyes, his expression completely vulnerable, stripped of every piece of mob boss armor he had ever worn.
“You gave Lily her smile back, Clare,” Roman whispered. “You gave me a reason to come home. You gave us a family. Money could never buy that. Not in a million years.”
Clare felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She reached up, resting her hands over his on her cheeks.
“It wasn't fake, Roman,” Clare confessed softly, her voice steady and clear in the quiet kitchen. “Not for a long time.”
Roman let out a shaky breath. “Clare...”
“I love you, Roman Duca,” Clare said, stepping up on her tiptoes. “And if you bring another bag of flour into my shop without asking, I’m going to throw it right back at your pretty suit.”
Roman laughed—a deep, booming, joyous sound that echoed through the quiet bakery.
Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
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It wasn't a cautious kiss. It was deep, possessive, and overwhelming—the kiss of a man who had finally found his home after a lifetime in the dark. Clare wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, melting into his warmth as the scent of butter, vanilla, and pure love filled the room.
Outside, the Chicago wind rustled the autumn leaves along Taylor Street, but inside Honey & Rye, the doors were locked, the ovens were cold, and the mob boss had finally found the one thing his millions could never buy.
