Chapter 9 - THE NEW FAMILY
The figure silhouetted in the doorway was massive, leaning heavily against the stone frame.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the blood soaking through Dante’s white shirt.
He was breathing hard, clutching his side, but his steel-gray eyes were alive. He held a suppressed pistol in his right hand.
“Clare,” Dante called out, his voice a low, exhausted rasp.
“I’m here!” Clare sobbed, crawling out from under the changing table with Leo in one arm and dragging Maya with the other.
She ran to him, ignoring the blood, and threw her free arm around his waist, helping support his massive weight. Dante groaned, leaning into her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
“Vincenzo?” Clare asked, terrified to hear the answer.
“Handled,” Dante said grimly.
Marco stumbled out of the kitchen, clutching his own wounded shoulder, but he was alive. He looked at Dante and nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the brutal necessity of what had just happened in the lemon grove.
“What about Richard?” Clare asked, looking back toward the dark kitchen.
“He’s alive,” Dante said softly. “I tied him to the broken table. The Italian police are on their way. I made an anonymous call. They will find the American fugitive with a flash drive containing enough evidence to put him, Don Moretti, and half of Chicago’s corrupt politicians away for life.”
Clare looked up at him, tears mingling with the rain on his face. “You gave up the ledger?”
“I don't need it anymore,” Dante said, looking down at his son, who had finally stopped crying and was resting his head against Clare’s chest. “The threat is gone. My wife has justice.”
Two months later.
The afternoon sun bathed the Salvatore estate in a warm, golden glow, completely erasing the violent shadows of the storm.
Clare sat on a wrought-iron bench in the pristine gardens, watching Maya chase a very patient, very heavily armed security guard named Luca through the rose bushes.
Clare wasn't wearing worn jeans and cheap sneakers anymore. She wore a beautiful, flowing linen sundress. She didn't look exhausted, terrified, or invisible. She looked radiant.
Leo, now a healthy, chubby eight-month-old, was sitting on a plush blanket on the grass, aggressively attempting to eat a plastic block.
The heavy glass doors of the main villa opened.
Dante walked out. He wasn't wearing a bespoke suit or a holster. He wore a simple white linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up, revealing the fading scar on his side. He looked lighter, the oppressive weight of grief and betrayal finally lifted from his broad shoulders.
He walked over to the bench and sat down next to Clare, naturally slipping his arm around her waist.
Clare leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a simple, domestic gesture that still sent a thrill of electricity through her.
“The news from Chicago came in this morning,” Dante said softly, kissing the top of her head. “The federal indictments were unsealed. Don Moretti is in custody. Richard took a plea deal. He’ll serve twenty years in a supermax.”
Clare let out a long, slow breath. The nightmare was truly over. Richard could never hurt her or Maya again.
“Are you okay?” Dante asked, his dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that always made her blush.
“I’m more than okay,” Clare smiled, turning to look at him.
Dante reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a flash drive, or a photograph, or a boarding pass.
He pulled out a small, worn velvet box.
Clare gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.
“Six months ago,” Dante said, his voice thick with emotion, “you walked through a curtain on an airplane and saved my son’s life. But you didn't just save him, Clare. You saved me. You pulled me out of the dark.”
He opened the box.
Inside rested a stunning, vintage diamond ring, surrounded by deep blue sapphires.
“This belonged to my grandmother,” Dante whispered, holding the box out to her. “It was meant for the woman who would stand by the head of this family. I don't want you to be an employee, Clare. I don't want you to be a guest. I want you to be my wife.”
Tears of absolute joy spilled down Clare’s cheeks. She looked at the lethal, beautiful man who had burned his own empire down to protect her and her daughter.
“Yes,” Clare wept, throwing her arms around his neck.
Dante let out a laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed across the gardens—and held her tight, burying his face in her neck.
He pulled back gently and slipped the vintage ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
Leo babbled happily from the grass, clapping his hands together. Maya ran over, breathless and giggling, and threw her arms around Dante’s legs.
Dante scooped Maya up with one arm and pulled Clare close with the other.
Clare looked down at the sapphire ring on her finger, then out at the beautiful, peaceful compound.
May you like
She had run from a monster in Ohio, terrified and alone.
But as Dante kissed her softly in the Italian sun, Clare knew she had finally found exactly where she was meant to belong.
