Chapter 12 - The Dinner at Gene & Georgetti's
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We dined at a quiet, corner booth in an historic Italian steakhouse where the waiters greeted Dante with quiet reverence.
There were no bodyguards hovering over our table; Leo and Mateo sat discreetly near the entrance, invisible to the other patrons.
For the first time since we met, Dante was not wearing a tie.
His top shirt buttons were undone, revealing a glimpse of the strong collarbone and the easy grace of a man off duty.
"You haven't asked about Brandt," Dante observed, slicing into his prime rib.
I paused, setting my wine glass on the white linen tablecloth.
"Frank told me the legal team finished seizing his properties last Friday," I said quietly.
"The restitution check arrived in my bank account yesterday morning."
"Fifty-four thousand eight hundred dollars."
"I stared at the mobile banking screen for an hour before I believed it was real."
"What will you do with it?" Dante asked, watching me closely over the rim of his glass.
"I paid off my father’s funeral expenses in full," I said, feeling a deep, clean peace settle in my chest.
"I bought a reliable coat."
"And the rest is going into an investment account."
"A sensible auditor to the end," Dante remarked with a warm smile.
"I learned the hard way what happens when you don't have a cushion," I replied.
Dante reached across the table, his fingers lightly brushing over mine against the tablecloth.
"You will never need to worry about a cushion again, Elena."
"Not while I’m here."
The restaurant noise seemed to fade into a distant hum.
"Dante," I said softly, looking into his dark eyes.
"People whisper about you in the halls."
"They say you are cold."
"They say you don't forgive mistakes."
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, his voice dropping low.
"Never," I answered without a second of hesitation.
"A man who protects a stranger from a predator is not a monster."
"You are strict, Dante, but you are just."
Dante looked down at our joined hands, his thumb gently stroking the back of my knuckles.
"You see too much good in me, Elena."
"I see what is there," I said.
"And I see a man who carries the weight of five hundred employees and an entire family legacy on his shoulders without asking for help."
Dante looked up, a raw vulnerability flashing across his usually guarded features.
"It gets lonely carrying it alone," he confessed in a quiet whisper.
"Then don't carry it alone," I said, squeezing his hand.
May you like
We sat together in that quiet corner of the city, the silence between us filled with a shared understanding that needed no further words.
When we left the restaurant, the cold night air bit at our cheeks, but my hand was tucked securely inside Dante’s coat pocket, warmed by his own.
