Chapter 9 - THE NEW SEAT AT THE TABLE
Three months later.
The autumn sun poured through the massive windows of the DeMarco estate dining room, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
The long mahogany table was set for a private lunch. There were no crystal glasses, no string quartets, and no twenty-eight guests. There were only four plates.
I walked out of the kitchen, carrying a platter of warm, homemade focaccia bread. But I wasn’t wearing a black uniform, and I wasn’t carrying a serving tray. I was wearing a soft, emerald-green cashmere sweater and jeans.
I set the bread down in the center of the table just as Luca walked into the room.
He was wearing a simple white button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking relaxed and entirely at peace. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, pressing a soft kiss into my hair.
“Smells incredible,” he murmured.
“It’s my grandmother’s recipe,” I smiled, leaning back into his warmth. “Don’t let the chef know I commandeered his oven again, or he’ll quit.”
“He works for you now,” Luca chuckled, turning me around in his arms. “You can commandeer whatever you want.”
The last three months had been a whirlwind of restructuring and healing. The Commission had taken Elena away that rainy night; she was stripped of all assets and exiled, a ghost in the underworld she had tried to rule. Camille had left the city entirely. Luca had given her enough money to pay off her family’s debts, a quiet mercy that allowed her to start over somewhere else, far away from the mafia life she had been forced into.
And my father?
David Bennett hadn’t gone back to his dusty little shop in the slums. Luca had insisted he move into the guest cottage on the estate grounds. My dad spent his days restoring the antique furniture in the mansion, finally doing the work he loved without looking over his shoulder.
Speaking of my dad, he walked into the dining room right on cue, wiping sawdust off his flannel shirt.
“That back leg on the Louis XIV chair is completely fixed, Luca,” my dad said, eyeing the focaccia bread hungrily. “Good as new.”
“Thank you, David,” Luca said warmly, pulling out a chair for him. “Sit. Eat.”
My dad sat down, looking entirely comfortable at the table he used to guard from the shadows.
A moment later, Ethan came tearing into the room, his school tie loosened and his backpack thrown haphazardly onto the floor.
“I got an A on my history project!” Ethan announced, practically vibrating with excitement.
“That’s amazing, buddy,” Luca beamed, giving his son a high-five.
Ethan ran over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. I hugged him back, resting my chin on top of his head. He felt safe. He felt loved. And most importantly, he felt like family.
“Can we go down to the boathouse after lunch, Sarah?” Ethan asked, looking up at me with bright eyes. “Grandpa David said he’d teach me how to whittle a wooden boat.”
I smiled, glancing at my dad, who winked at me. “Of course we can.”
We all sat down at the table. It wasn’t a formal affair. We passed plates, talked over each other, and laughed. It was noisy, messy, and perfectly normal.
Halfway through the meal, Luca reached across the table and took my hand.
I looked at him, feeling the familiar flutter in my chest.
“What is it?” I asked softly.
Luca didn’t answer right away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
The table went completely silent. My dad stopped chewing. Ethan’s eyes went wide.
Luca opened the box.
Inside was a ring, but it wasn’t a massive, gaudy diamond like the one Camille had worn. It was a beautiful, vintage silver band, engraved with a delicate vine pattern that perfectly matched my mother’s bracelet still resting on my wrist.
“You noticed the sawdust,” Luca said quietly, a profound, overwhelming love shining in his dark eyes. “You noticed the lies. You saved my life, Sarah. But more than that, you gave me back my family. And I don’t want to spend another day of my life without you by my side. Not behind my chair. Next to me.”
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over my cheeks. I looked at my dad, who was smiling so hard he was crying too. I looked at Ethan, who was giving me a frantic, double thumbs-up.
I looked back at Luca, the man who had terrified a city but had given me his entire heart.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice breaking with joy. “Yes, Luca.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger. It was a perfect fit.
He leaned across the table and kissed me, a soft, lingering promise that the darkness was finally behind us.
When we broke apart, Ethan cheered, and my dad raised his water glass in a toast.
I looked down at the beautiful silver ring on my finger, then at the people sitting around the table. My father, my soon-to-be stepson, and the man I loved.
I wasn’t a servant anymore. I wasn’t a ghost hiding from the past.
May you like
I was Sarah Bennett.
And for the first time in my life, I was exactly where I belonged.
