Chapter 10 - The Forever RoomThe kitchen of the Salvatrici estate in Lake Forest was silent, save for the rhythmic, comforting sound of rain hitting the leaded glass windows.
It was a Sunday morning in late October. The estate was massive—a brick Tudor mansion surrounded by old oaks and rolling lawns that ran down to the private beach—but the kitchen was warm, smelling of fresh espresso, warm sourdough, and the rich, buttery scent of pancakes.
Khloe stood by the marble island, wearing one of Dante’s oversized black cashmere sweaters that fell to her mid-thigh, her bare feet pressing into the heated hardwood floor. She was using a silver spoon to coat a plate of fresh fruit in honey, her hair piled messily on top of her head.
A pair of large, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind.
Dante pulled her back against his chest, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips pressing a soft kiss against the side of her neck. He was wearing nothing but a pair of dark gray lounge pants, his chest warm and solid against her back.
“You’re up early,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“I wanted to make breakfast,” she said, turning her head to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips brushing the silver scar. “And I wanted to see the lake before the storm starts.”
Dante looked over her shoulder at the plate of food—the pancakes, the honey, the rich whipped butter. He didn't frown. He didn't make a comment about her portion. He merely reached out, took a slice of honeyed strawberry, and popped it into his mouth, his eyes closing in satisfaction.
“Amazing,” he said.
He turned her around in his arms, his hands resting on her hips, his pale gray eyes looking down at her with a depth of love and respect that still made her throat tight after six months of marriage.
“I have something for you,” Dante said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, heavy brass key.
Khloe looked at the key, then up at his face. “What is this?”
“It’s the key to the new gallery on Michigan Avenue,” Dante said, his voice dropping into that low, intimate register she loved. “The holding company completed the purchase yesterday. I want you to run the foundation, Khloe. No more auditing other people’s books. I want you to build an art program for the kids in North St. Louis. I want you to have your own room. The biggest one in the city.”
Tears of pure, overwhelming happiness pricked the corners of Khloe’s eyes. She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as she let out a soft, wet laugh.
“You don't have to keep buying things for me, Dante,” she whispered.
Dante held her tight, his hand stroking the soft curve of her back beneath the cashmere sweater, his voice ringing with an absolute, unshakeable certainty that echoed through the quiet, safe house.
May you like
“I’ll buy the whole world, Khloe,” Dante whispered into her hair. “Before I let you run out of space again.”
Beyond the leaded windows, the autumn storm hit the lake, the gray waves crashing against the stone seawall in a display of primal, uncontrollable power. But inside the kitchen, under the warm, amber lights of the home they had built, the air was perfectly quiet, perfectly safe, and entirely filled with the beautiful, lasting grace of a woman who had finally learned how to take up her own room.
