Chapter 8 - A New Reign
The gala inside was a resounding triumph.
Within two hours of my debut, every major fashion editor in North America and Europe was surrounding me, begging for exclusive rights to cover the launch of Atelier Moretti. The very elite who had once looked down on me as a nobody were now lining up just to shake my hand.
At midnight, after the crowds had cleared, Dante led me out onto the private rooftop garden of the museum overlooking the glowing skyline of Manhattan.
The crisp night air brushed against my skin, but I didn't feel cold.
Dante pulled his flask from his pocket, took a sip, and offered it to me. I took a small sip, feeling the liquid warm my throat.
"You quieted the entire city tonight, Clara," Dante said, looking out at the glittering skyscrapers. "They will be talking about your name for decades."
"We quieted the city," I corrected softly, stepping up beside him. "I couldn't have done any of this without you, Dante."
Dante turned to face me. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, softening the terrifying aura that made the rest of the world bow to him.
"You had the fire inside you all along, little tailor," he said softly. "I just gave you the stage."
He reached out, his big, warm fingers gently lifting my chin until my eyes met his.
"The Whitmores thought they were breaking a fragile flower," Dante murmured, his thumb gently tracing my lip. "They didn't realize they were waking up a queen."
"And what happens now?" I asked, my heart beating with a sweet, intense anticipation. "The empire is restored. The traitors are in prison. What comes next for the queen?"
Dante leaned down, his breath warm against my lips, his dark eyes filled with an undeniable, fierce devotion.
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"Whatever she desires," Dante whispered. "Because this city belongs to her now."
When his lips met mine beneath the stars of Manhattan, the last remnants of my past melted away into the night—replaced by a reign that no one would ever dare tear apart again.
