Chapter 5 - The Rules of EngagementThe Russo estate in Lake Forest was a fortress of limestone, iron gates, and ancient oak trees that kept the rest of the world at bay.
Ellie had been there for three weeks.
Her days were spent in the sunroom, her laptop open on a low glass table, though she spent more time staring at the manicured lawns than writing. Her wing of the house was massive, filled with silk sheets, marble baths, and a wardrobe that had been delivered on her second day—filled with dresses, shoes, and coats that bore labels she had only ever seen in magazines.
But she was a prisoner. A beautiful, coddled prisoner in a golden cage.
Dante was rarely there during the day. He left before dawn and returned long after she had gone to bed. When they did see each other, it was briefly, in the grand dining hall where they ate in a silence that felt increasingly tense.
On Friday night, the silence broke.
Ellie was sitting in the library, a glass of red wine in her hand, when the heavy oak doors opened and Dante walked in. He looked exhausted, his tie undone, his white shirt stained with what looked suspiciously like grease.
"You're awake," Dante said, stopping near the fireplace.
"I can't sleep," Ellie said, closing her book. "It's too quiet here. I'm used to the sound of the L train in Logan Square."
Dante poured himself a glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. He drank it in one long swallow, then turned to look at her.
"Tomorrow night is the Cotillion," he said. "The charity gala for the children's hospital. The entire city will be there, Ellie. Including the Morettis."
Ellie felt her chest tighten. "Am I ready for this?"
"You have to be," Dante said, walking over to stand in front of her chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. He opened it, revealing a ring that made Ellie’s breath catch.
It was a flawless emerald-cut diamond, so large it looked like a piece of ice, set in a delicate band of platinum.
"My mother's," Dante said quietly. He took her left hand, his warm, scarred fingers sliding her old silver ring off and replacing it with the massive diamond. It fit perfectly. "If anyone asks, I gave it to you in Cabo."
Ellie looked down at her hand. The ring was beautiful, but it felt like a shackle.
"Dante," she said softly, looking up into his dark eyes. "Do you ever wish things were different? Do you ever wish you were just... a man who owned some clubs? A man who didn't have to carry a gun to a wedding?"
Dante stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a second, just a second, she thought she saw a shadow of pain cross his face—a glimpse of the boy he had been before the streets of Chicago had carved him into stone.
He reached down, his thumb gently brushing her cheekbone, his touch so warm it made her shiver.
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"This is the only life I know, Ellie," he whispered. "And now, it is the only life you have."
He turned and left the room before she could answer, leaving her alone in the firelight, the diamond on her finger catching the orange glow like a tiny, frozen star.
