Chapter 7 - A House Becomes a Home
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The weeks following that disastrous engagement dinner transformed the Rinaldi mansion completely.
The cold, museum-like silence that had hung over the estate for three years finally began to thaw.
Isabella’s expensive minimalist furniture and sterile white flower arrangements were removed.
Mia’s drawings—bright crayon portraits of cats, castles, and stick-figure families—were framed on the walls.
My younger sister, Chloe, was relocated to a safe, luxury apartment building secured by Dante’s men.
For the first time since our parents died, I didn't have to lie awake at night calculating rent money.
My new role meant waking Mia up every morning, preparing her breakfast, and driving her to school.
Dante, who used to disappear into his office before dawn, began sitting at the breakfast table every day.
He would drink black espresso while reading the financial papers, pretending not to notice Mia’s giggles.
Mia would carefully make him toast, piling it with far too much strawberry jam.
And Dante Rinaldi, the man who controlled half the shipping lanes on the Atlantic, would eat every bite.
“Miss Sarah makes the pancakes fluffier, Daddy,” Mia declared one Tuesday morning, swinging her legs.
Dante looked over the top of his newspaper, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile.
“That is because Miss Sarah is a wizard, Mia.”
“Are you a wizard, Miss Sarah?” Mia asked, turning her bright eyes toward me.
I laughed, setting down a fresh pot of coffee beside Dante’s plate.
“Only when it comes to chocolate chip pancakes, sweetheart.”
As I poured his coffee, Dante’s hand brushed against mine on the silver handle.
A sudden jolt of electricity shot up my arm, making my breath hitch in my throat.
I looked down into his dark, brooding eyes, finding an intensity that made my knees feel weak.
“Thank you, Sarah,” he murmured softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
“For the pancakes, Mr. Rinaldi?” I whispered playfully.
“For bringing light back into this tomb,” he replied, completely serious.
Before I could answer, the heavy double doors of the kitchen swung open abruptly.
Marco, Dante’s head of security, stepped inside with a grim expression on his battle-scarred face.
“Boss, we have an issue at the Brooklyn terminal.”
Dante’s relaxed demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a don.
He folded his newspaper neatly and wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“What happened?”
“A shipment of medical supplies from Milan was intercepted at dock four,” Marco reported quietly.
“The paperwork had Don Antonio Romano’s seal on it.”
“He’s claiming the entire container as restitution for his daughter's broken engagement.”
Mia stopped chewing her toast, sensing the sudden tension in the room.
Dante reached over and placed a reassuring hand over hers.
“Finish your breakfast with Sarah, Mia.”
“Daddy has to take care of some business.”
He stood up, adjusting his shoulder holster beneath his dark wool coat.
He walked toward the kitchen door, but stopped beside where I was standing near the counter.
“Keep her inside the gates today, Sarah,” he instructed in a low, protective tone.
“Don't leave her side for a single second.”
I nodded, feeling the cold weight of the underworld pressing against our peaceful morning.
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“I won't leave her, Dante,” I said, using his first name without realizing it.
He paused, looking at me with an unreadable expression, then nodded once before disappearing down the hall.
