Chapter 16 - The Fifth Floor of the Sovereign
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Three days later, on Friday morning, the sun rose clear and bright gold over the snow-covered pines of the Oak Brook convalescent villa.
At seven-thirty in the morning, inside the villa’s private state-of-the-art surgical theater, Dr. Rossini’s handpicked pediatric cardiothoracic team—led by the top valve specialist flown in from Boston Children’s Hospital on Roman’s private jet the night before—began ten-year-old Chloe Cole’s mitral valve replacement surgery.
Out in the sunlit conservatory waiting room overlooking the snowy gardens, Tessa paced back and forth across the terracotta tiles in a soft gray cashmere lounge set, her bandaged right hand held tightly against her chest as every minute on the wall clock felt like an hour.
She wasn't pacing alone.
Despite the fact that the Illinois Gaming Commission was holding its emergency Friday-morning session downtown to officially award the two-billion-dollar Chicago casino license to Vane Holdings following Arthur Sterling’s indictment and structural collapse, Roman Vane hadn't gone downtown.
He had sent his lawyers to collect the license instead—and he had sat right there in the conservatory waiting room since six o’clock that morning in a dark sweater and slacks, an untouched cup of espresso beside him, watching every step Tessa took across the tiles.
At 10:15 AM, when Tessa paused by the tall glass doors looking out at the snow, her shoulders trembling slightly from four hours of held breath, Roman stood up from his armchair, walked silently behind her, and wrapped both of his strong, warm arms around her waist, pulling her back against the solid wall of his chest.
"Breathe, tesoro," Roman murmured against her temple, resting his chin on her shoulder as his hands covered hers over her stomach. "Dr. Vance—Dr. Sterling from Boston has done four hundred of these repairs without losing a single child. She’s a Cole. She’s tough as iron, just like her sister."
Tessa leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting the steady, powerful thud of his heartbeat anchor her before she spun apart inside.
"My dad was supposed to be standing here today," Tessa whispered, a single hot tear slipping down her cheek onto Roman’s forearm. "Before he went to inspect that Wacker Drive site in August, we had a whole chart taped to the refrigerator counting down the days until Chloe’s heart was fixed so we could take her to see the ocean in Maine next summer."
Roman turned her gently in his arms and wiped the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
"Your father died making sure monsters like Sterling and Victor didn't walk away with this city," Roman said softly, his gunmetal eyes fierce and solemn. "And yesterday afternoon, the Mayor’s Office officially cleared your father’s record, awarded him the posthumous Medal of Merit, and paid his full thirty-year city pension plus a two-million-dollar whistleblower settlement into a trust for you and Chloe."
Just then, the double doors of the surgical recovery wing clicked open, and the Boston surgeon walked out in green scrubs, pulling down his surgical mask with a warm, tired smile.
Tessa’s hands clamped onto Roman’s biceps so hard her nails bit through the wool.
"The new valve seated on the first pass with zero regurgitation, Miss Cole," the surgeon announced happily. "Her pulmonary pressures have already dropped back to normal range. She’s waking up in recovery right now asking for a one-eared bear named Barnaby."
A choked sob of pure, overwhelming joy broke from Tessa’s throat. She sagged against Roman’s chest, burying her face in his neck as his arms locked tightly around her, lifting her an inch off her feet and pressing a hard, fierce kiss into her hair.
Twenty minutes later, when they walked into the warm recovery suite, ten-year-old Chloe already had more pink color in her cheeks than she had possessed in three years.
Tessa sat on the edge of the bed kissing her sister’s forehead and tucking Barnaby—freshly sewn back up without any titanium drives inside—under Chloe’s arm, while Roman stood quietly at the foot of the bed.
Chloe blinked sleepily at the tall man in the dark sweater and held out her small right hand.
"Thank you for catching my bed when the elevator broke, Mr. Roman," Chloe whispered. "Tessa says you have a big hotel with a swimming pool on the roof."
May you like
Roman stepped to the side of the bed and gently took the ten-year-old’s small hand in his large, scarred palm.
"Heated pool on the sixty-fourth floor, Chloe," Roman said, a genuine, breathtaking smile transforming his harsh face. "And as soon as the doctor says you can swim, I’m closing the entire sixty-fourth floor for a week so you and your sister can have it to yourselves."
