Chapter 9 - The Gala of Gold CoastSix months later, the Drake Hotel’s Grand Ballroom was illuminated by the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers.
The annual Gold Coast Charity Gala was the most prestigious event on the Chicago social calendar, a gathering of the city’s oldest families, wealthiest developers, and most powerful political figures. The room was a sea of black tuxedos and diamond necklaces, the sound of a live orchestra floating through the high arched ceilings.
The double doors of the ballroom opened, and the chatter in the room died down to a low, respectful murmur.
Dante Salvatrici stepped into the light. He wore a custom midnight blue tuxedo, his white shirt pristine, his pale gray eyes scanning the crowd with his usual cool indifference.
But he wasn't alone.
Tucked securely around his arm was Khloe Bennett.
She wore a custom-designed, off-the-shoulder gown made of heavy, emerald-colored silk that hugged her lush, generous curves with a flawless, unapologetic elegance. Her long dark hair fell in soft, voluminous waves over her bare shoulders, her neck adorned with a simple, striking emerald pendant that Dante had given her that morning. She didn't walk with her head down; her shoulders were back, her chin lifted, her smile warm and radiant as she met the eyes of the crowd.
They didn't look at her with mockery. They didn't whisper about her size or her dress.
They looked at her with the quiet, terrified respect reserved for the queen of the Gold Coast.
At the edge of the dance floor, Lexi Vale stood alone, holding a glass of melting champagne. Her father’s firm had severed ties with the Tanner family after Greg’s indictment, and her wedding had been canceled three days before the invites were to be mailed. She looked thin, fragile, and utterly forgotten in her pale cream dress, her eyes wide with a bitter, desperate envy as she watched Khloe approach.
Khloe didn't look at her. She walked past her as if she were nothing more than a structural pillar, her hand sliding down Dante’s arm to rest in his palm as he guided her toward the center of the dance floor.
“You’re beautiful,” Dante whispered, his hand settling on her waist, his fingers warm against the green silk.
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“I know,” Khloe said, a bright, triumphant laugh breaking from her lips as the orchestra began a slow, beautiful waltz.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, her body moving in perfect sync with his, taking up every single inch of the floor they had fought to occupy.
