Chapter 11 - THE NIGHT HE CHOSE TO STAY|
Dante had spent most of his adult life responding to threats by leaving.
If an enemy appeared, he went to meet him.
If a business deal turned dangerous, he went to negotiate.
If someone betrayed him, he went searching for answers.
Movement had always felt like power.
Waiting had always felt like weakness.
So when Nico told him that Adrian Voss had been located near Lake Geneva, every instinct urged Dante to reach for his coat.
He was halfway across the office when he stopped.
Through the open doorway, he could see the staircase.
At the top stood Maren.
She was holding the railing with one hand and leaning lightly on her walking frame.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders.
She watched him with an expression that made him feel as though he had returned to the chapel.
Not because she looked frightened.
Because she looked prepared to be disappointed.
Dante slowly put down his coat.
Nico noticed.
"Boss?"
"You're going to Wisconsin."
Nico frowned.
"Without you?"
"With Detective Mercer's team."
"But Adrian—"
"Isn't worth leaving my wife alone again."
Nico stared at him.
For a long moment, he seemed unable to process the sentence.
Then his expression changed.
"Understood."
Dante handed him the transaction record.
"Make sure Mercer has this."
"And if Adrian runs?"
"Let the authorities pursue him."
Nico looked surprised.
Dante continued.
"I want evidence that will stand up in court."
"Yes, boss."
"And Nico?"
"Sir?"
"Come back safely."
The security chief blinked.
Then he nodded.
"I will."
Dante left the office and walked toward the staircase.
Maren remained where she was.
"You're not going?"
He shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I told you I'd stay."
She looked at him.
"But Adrian is there."
"Possibly."
"And this could be your chance to find him."
"It could."
She swallowed.
"Dante, I don't want you to give up something important because of me."
He climbed the stairs slowly.
When he reached her, he took her free hand.
"You're not something standing in the way of my life."
Her eyes filled.
"You're part of it."
Maren looked away.
He gently touched her cheek.
"I know I haven't acted like that."
She nodded.
"No."
He accepted the answer.
"I'm trying to change."
"I can see that."
She took a slow breath.
"But sometimes I still expect you to disappear."
Dante looked toward the staircase.
"Then let's make tonight different."
"How?"
He thought for a moment.
"What did you usually do when I stayed out?"
Maren looked surprised.
"After the chapel?"
"Yes."
"I'd come upstairs."
"And?"
"Take a shower."
"And then?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Wait for your car."
Dante felt his chest tighten.
"How long?"
"Until I heard the garage door."
He closed his eyes.
"Every night?"
"Most nights."
She gave a small shrug.
"Sometimes I fell asleep."
Dante drew her gently into his arms.
"I am so sorry."
Maren rested her forehead against his shoulder.
"Then stay awake with me tonight."
He kissed her hair.
"I'd like that."
They spent the evening in the library.
Clara brought dinner on a small rolling table.
Maren chose a novel from the shelves.
Dante chose a book about American architecture because it was the first one he found that didn't concern finance or organized crime.
Neither read very much.
Instead, they talked.
At first, the conversations were awkward.
Dante discovered that Maren disliked sparkling water.
She discovered that he had once wanted to study architecture.
He admitted he hated the sound of a grandfather clock because it reminded him of being punished as a child.
She confessed that she sang while cooking whenever she believed nobody could hear.
"What do you sing?" he asked.
Maren looked embarrassed.
"Old country songs."
Dante smiled.
"Really?"
"My mother loved them."
"Then I want to hear you someday."
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Because I can't sing."
He leaned closer.
"I've heard Nico sing."
Maren laughed.
"Is he terrible?"
"Spectacularly."
She laughed harder.
Dante watched her.
He had seen his wife smile before.
At formal dinners.
During charity events.
When greeting guests.
But those smiles had been small and careful.
This laugh was different.
It arrived without permission and filled the room.
He wanted to hear it again.
At ten-thirty, Maren glanced at the clock.
Dante noticed.
"What is it?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
"Maren."
She gave him a sheepish smile.
"It's almost the time I usually went to the chapel."
His expression softened.
"Does that make you anxious?"
"A little."
He looked toward the window.
The garden lights glowed beyond the glass.
Then he asked, "Would it help to go somewhere else?"
She hesitated.
"Where?"
"Anywhere you want."
Maren thought carefully.
"The kitchen."
Dante blinked.
"The kitchen?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She smiled.
"Because Clara says you aren't allowed in there."
He looked offended.
"My house."
"Her kitchen."
Dante considered this.
"Fair."
They went downstairs together.
Clara was finishing her evening inspection when they entered.
She stared at Dante.
"Mr. Caruso?"
He raised both hands.
"I'm unarmed."
Maren burst out laughing.
Clara tried not to smile.
"What can I do for you?"
Dante looked at his wife.
"Maren wants something."
"Hot chocolate," she said.
Clara nodded.
"Of course."
Maren shook her head.
"Actually, I'd like to make it."
Clara glanced toward her bandaged knees.
"You can supervise."
Dante stepped forward.
"I'll make it."
Both women stared at him.
Clara's eyebrows rose.
"Have you ever made hot chocolate, sir?"
"How difficult can it be?"
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen smelled faintly of scorched milk.
Maren was laughing so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks.
Clara stood beside the stove with her arms folded.
Dante stared at the saucepan as though it had personally betrayed him.
"I followed the instructions."
"You turned the heat all the way up," Clara said.
"It seemed efficient."
"Cooking isn't a hostile takeover, Mr. Caruso."
Maren covered her mouth.
Dante looked between them.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Clara finally smiled.
"Move aside."
She rescued the saucepan.
They made another batch together.
This time, Dante followed directions.
At eleven fifteen, he and Maren carried two mugs into the sunroom.
They sat beneath a soft blanket while rain began tapping against the windows.
Maren held her mug between her palms.
"This is nice."
Dante looked at her.
"Yes."
"Very ordinary."
He smiled.
"Is that bad?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Her voice softened.
"I think ordinary is what I've missed most."
Dante studied her.
He had spent years making extraordinary things happen.
Expensive celebrations.
Dangerous deals.
Grand gestures that appeared in newspapers.
Yet the woman beside him had spent three hundred and sixty-four nights wishing he would simply come home.
"Maren."
She looked at him.
"I want to ask you something."
"All right."
"If we hadn't been married because of your father's debt, would you have chosen me?"
She looked surprised.
Dante immediately regretted asking.
"You don't have to answer."
Maren shook her head.
"No."
His heart sank.
Then she continued.
"I wouldn't have chosen the man who stopped coming home."
He lowered his gaze.
"But I might choose the man sitting beside me now."
Dante looked at her.
She smiled faintly.
"If he keeps showing up."
He reached for her hand.
"I intend to."
For a while, they watched the rain.
Then Maren leaned against him.
He wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders.
At midnight, the grandfather clock sounded from the hallway.
Maren flinched.
Dante felt it.
"You're here," he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
"Yes."
"And so am I."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She rested her head against his chest.
For the first time in a year, midnight did not mean waiting.
It meant being together.
At twelve twenty, Dante's phone vibrated.
Nico.
Dante answered quietly.
"Talk to me."
"We reached the property."
"And?"
"Adrian wasn't there."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Did he leave?"
"Recently."
"Any evidence?"
"A lot."
Nico hesitated.
"Boss, there's something you need to hear."
Dante glanced toward Maren.
She sat up immediately.
"Put him on speaker."
Dante obeyed.
Nico continued.
"We found a bedroom prepared for someone."
Dante frowned.
"Who?"
"Mrs. Caruso."
Maren went pale.
"What?"
Nico's voice tightened.
"There were clothes in her size, medical supplies, and photographs from the mansion."
Dante's hand closed around the phone.
"Explain."
Nico swallowed.
"Adrian wasn't planning to kill her."
May you like
A long silence followed.
"He was planning to take her."
