Chapter 7 - The Guests in the East Wing
The drive through Pilsen in the middle of a historic Chicago blizzard was a terrifying gauntlet of whiteout snow and sliding ice. Marcus drove our heavy armored SUV with expert precision, pushing through snowdrifts that would have trapped any ordinary vehicle.
When we finally pulled up to the dilapidated brick apartment building on 18th Street, the sight made my blood boil.
Two small boys—eight-year-old Leo and ten-year-old Toby—sat huddled together on the snow-covered concrete steps under a single thin quilt. Their teeth were clicking audibly, their faces pale blue from the biting arctic wind. Their elderly neighbor stood beside them, trying desperately to shield them from the blowing snow with a broken umbrella.
The landlord was nowhere to be found. He had shut off the building's main water line and fled to a hotel, leaving his low-income tenants to fend for themselves in sub-zero weather.
Before the SUV had even come to a complete stop, Tessa threw the door open and sprinted through the deep snow.
“Leo! Toby!” she screamed, throwing her arms around both boys, pulling them tightly against her chest, crying hysterically.
The boys clung to her, shivering uncontrollably. “Tessa! The water came through the ceiling... all our books got wet!” Toby cried out, his small voice weak from the freezing cold.
I stepped out of the SUV, wrapping my heavy fur-lined winter coat around all three of them, shielding them from the wind.
“Get them in the car,” I ordered firmly, lifting eight-year-old Leo into my arms. He was surprisingly light—far too light for an eight-year-old boy. He clutched my coat collar with his tiny, freezing hands, staring at me with wide, terrified brown eyes.
“Are you the king?” Leo whispered through his chattering teeth as I buckled him into the heated leather backseat of the SUV.
Despite the intensity of the moment, a faint smile touched my lips. “No, buddy. I’m just the guy taking you somewhere warm.”
Within twenty minutes, we were back at the Gold Coast estate.
While the main house remained cold due to the ongoing boiler repairs, the private East Wing guest suite was powered by a separate, high-efficiency geothermal heating unit that was running at full capacity.
I had the household staff open the grand East Wing suite—a luxurious, two-bedroom apartment featuring plush king-sized beds, thick Persian rugs, and a massive floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace.
Chef Andre and his team, who had remained on site, immediately brought up trays of steaming hot cocoa, fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, roasted beef stew, and warm buttered bread.
I stood near the entrance of the guest suite, watching through the open door.
Leo and Toby sat wrapped in massive cashmere blankets on the sofa directly in front of the roaring fireplace, drinking hot cocoa with wide, astonished eyes. They looked around the opulent room as if they had stepped into a fairytale castle.
“Tessa,” Toby gasped, dipping a large cookie into his mug. “Is this real? Do we get to sleep in these huge beds?”
Tessa sat beside them, her hands holding a warm mug, tears quietly streaming down her face as she looked at her brothers eating hot food in a warm, safe room.
She turned her head and caught me standing in the doorway.
She set her mug down, stood up, and walked out into the private hallway, closing the door softly behind her to give the boys privacy.
She stood in front of me, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking.
“Mr. Rossi...” she choked out, unable to finish the sentence.
“Don't,” I said gently, stepping closer to her. “Don't say anything, Tessa.”
“You drove out into a blizzard for my family,” she whispered, looking up into my eyes with a raw vulnerability that made my chest ache. “You brought us into your home. You’re feeding my brothers. I don't know how to ever repay you. I don't have anything to give you.”
I reached out, my fingers gently wiping a tear from her cheek.
“You don't owe me a single thing, Tessa,” I said softly. “You’ve spent your entire life sacrificing everything you have to protect those boys. Tonight, let someone else protect you.”
May you like
She looked at me, her dark eyes searching mine, seeing for the first time that I was no longer the cold, arrogant billionaire who had ripped a canvas bag from her hands three months ago.
I was a man who loved her.
