Chapter 12 - THE BRASS KEY
Spring arrived in Chicago with sudden, breathtaking beauty.
The snow melted from the bluffs along Lake Michigan.
The grounds of the Voss estate burst into vibrant green lawns and blooming white dogwoods.
Isabella stood in the center of the grand library.
Sunlight poured through the two-story arched windows, illuminating polished mahogany shelves holding thousands of leather-bound books.
A steaming cup of black coffee sat on the corner of the massive oak desk.
No sugar.
Exactly as he liked it.
Footsteps echoed softly on the herringbone parquet floor.
Adrien entered the room.
He had just returned from a board meeting at the Voss Logistics headquarters downtown.
He wore a dark blue suit, his tie loosened at the collar.
He stopped in front of the desk, looking from the coffee cup to Isabella.
A slow, warm smile touched his face.
“You don't work here anymore, Isabella,” he said softly.
Isabella leaned against the desk, crossing her arms with a playful tilt of her head.
“I know.”
“The new housekeeping staff of twelve is downstairs preparing dinner.”
“I know that too.”
Adrien walked toward her until only inches separated them.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
He didn't open it immediately.
Instead, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out the old brass estate key.
The one she had left on the narrow table the day she tried to run.
He took her right hand and placed the brass key in her palm.
“This key opened the pantry, the linen rooms, and the service doors,” Adrien said, his voice rich and deep.
He then flipped open the velvet box.
Inside rested a magnificent five-carat emerald-cut diamond ring, flanked by tapered platinum baguettes.
Isabella gasped.
Her hand flew to her lips.
Adrien took the diamond ring and slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
It was a perfect fit.
He closed his fingers around hers, holding both the brass key and the diamond ring together.
“I don't want you to have a key to the service doors, Isabella,” Adrien whispered, his eyes dark with eternal devotion.
“I want you to own the entire house.”
“I want you to own my name.”
“I want you to be my wife.”
Tears of pure joy spilled down Isabella’s cheeks.
She looked from the glittering ring to the man who had torn down an empire to protect her.
“Yes,” she choked out, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Yes, Adrien! A thousand times, yes!”
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Adrien lifted her off her feet, spinning her around in the sunlit library as her laughter echoed through the grand house.
He set her down and kissed her with a fierce, tender passion that sealed their souls together forever.
