Chapter 10 - A Winter of White Roses
December returned to Boston, exactly one year since Roman had stepped out of his armored car and found a boy selling flowers in the slush.
The snow fell in soft, thick flakes, coating the stone arches of the Lake Forest estate in a pristine blanket of white. The grand living room was warm, a massive fire crackling in the hearth, throwing dancing shadows across the high pine ceilings.
A massive Christmas tree stood by the grand windows, decorated with hundreds of delicate glass ornaments and warm golden lights.
Grace sat on the plush sofa, her dark hair long again, falling gracefully over her shoulders. She was laughing as Noah tried to place a silver star on the top branch of the tree, his small boots balanced precariously on Roman’s broad shoulders.
"Careful, Noah," Grace called out, her voice full of a deep, resonant happiness. "Don't tip your father over."
"I'm strong, Mommy!" Noah shouted, finally securing the star. "Daddy says Valente men have strong shoulders!"
Roman laughed, a rich, deep sound that filled the room, and gently lowered the boy to the floor, rumpling his dark hair. "That’s right, buddy. Strong shoulders."
Gabriel Russo walked into the room, carrying a large delivery box wrapped in green paper. "This just arrived from the downtown conservatory, ma'am. The first winter harvest."
Grace opened the box. Inside were dozens of spectacular, perfect white roses, their petals completely unbruised, grown in the warm, protected soil of the estate's greenhouse.
Noah ran over, picking up one of the roses, and walked over to Roman. He held it out with a bright, wide smile, his gray eyes shining in the firelight.
"Would you like a rose, sir?" Noah asked, mimicking the words he had spoken a year ago in the cold. "It’s completely free for someone I love."
Roman’s breath caught in his throat, a sudden wave of warmth washing through his entire chest. He knelt on the floor, pulling his son into a tight, fierce embrace, his face buried in the boy’s shoulder near the crescent birthmark.
May you like
Grace walked over, kneeling beside them, her arms wrapping around both of them as the snow continued to fall softly outside the frost-rimmed windows.
The white roses lay scattered across the warm rug, but this time, they weren't fallen or bruised. They were home, protected by a father who had traded an entire empire just to ensure his family would never have to stand in the cold again.
