Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The door swung open, and we’d barely crossed the threshold before I heard Penny’s animated voice carrying down the hallway.
“—and I’m telling you, the shade is definitely chartreuse, not lime. There’s a difference!”
“If you say so,” Blake’s dry response came from the direction of the kitchen. “Though I maintain that green is green.”
Dominic’s gray eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in a sardonic half-smile. “Sounds like they’re having a philosophical debate about color theory.”
“Penny takes his colors very seriously,” I replied.
We entered to find Blake and Penny in the dining area, surrounded by takeout containers from what looked like at least three different restaurants. Penny was gesticulating wildly with a spring roll while Blake calmly plated various dishes with his usual methodical precision.
“Ah! There you are!” Penny bounced over, his cotton-candy scent bright with happiness. “Perfect timing! Blake ordered enough food to feed a small army because apparently he ‘wasn’t sure what everyone would want’ which is code for ‘I’m bad at human emotions so I’ll just buy everything.’”
“I’m efficient,” Blake corrected mildly, not looking up from his task. “There’s a difference.”
“You bought pad thai, drunken noodles, massaman curry, AND panang curry,” Penny pointed out. “That’s not efficient, that’s overkill.”
“And yet you’re eating the spring rolls from all four orders,” Blake observed with the faintest hint of amusement.
Penny grinned, unrepentant. “Because they’re delicious and you bought twenty of them.”
The domestic scene was so normal, so cheerful, that it felt surreal given what Dominic and I had just learned. I must have made some sound because Blake’s sharp blue eyes cut to me immediately, his expression shifting from mild amusement to assessment in an instant.
“What happened?” he asked, his tone still casual but his posture subtly changing—shoulders squaring, attention focusing.
“We talked to Margie Patterson,” Dominic said, moving to help Blake with the food. “She worked as a nurse in the seventies and knew Thomas personally. Got a lot of information about his last few weeks.”
“And?” Blake prompted, handing me a plate that he’d already filled with things he knew I could stomach—plain rice, mild curry, nothing too spicy.
The casual thoughtfulness made my throat tight. Blake might claim to be bad at emotions, but he’d been paying attention to my needs for weeks.
I accepted the plate and we settled around the table—Blake at the head, Penny to his right, me across from Penny, and Dominic beside me with his hand finding my thigh under the table.
My gaze swept the room. “Where’s Jake?”
“In our room,” Penny said. “He’s polishing an application for that new restaurant opening up downtown. Said he’d join us the moment he hits submit.”
“I hope he lands it,” I said, fingers absently tracing the edge of my plate.
“So, what did the nurse have to say?” Blake asked, biting into a spring roll.
I started explaining everything Margie had told us, with Dominic filling in details I missed. Blake listened with absolute focus, eating methodically while his sharp mind clearly processed and categorized every piece of information.
Penny’s eyes got progressively wider as I described Constance Whitmore’s threats and her husband’s alleged inappropriate behavior.
Then I got to Vicente Antonelli.
“Vicente was the general contractor for the Historical District preservation projects in 1973,” I said. “He would have had access to every construction site, including the pharmacy where Thomas was buried. And Margie said everyone knew he had mob connections even back then.”
“That sounds ominous,” Penny said.
Blake set down his fork. His expression didn’t change—he didn’t look afraid or even surprised. Just… considering.
“We already knew Vicente Antonelli was connected to Jake’s situation through the Boston restaurant,” he said. “But this—”
“This means he’s potentially been eliminating threats to his operations for over fifty years,” Dominic’s tone was almost clinical, but his hand tightened on my thigh.
“I know about Jake and the Boston mob stuff,” Penny said, looking between the three of us, “but how dangerous is this guy exactly?”
“Very.” Blake pulled out his phone. “I have an extensive file on him from the Vertex deal research. He’s careful, smart, and extremely well-connected—judges, politicians, law enforcement, business leaders.
Anyone who’s gotten too close to damaging information about his operations tends to have accidents of some kind. ”
“And not always fatal—he’s too smart for that—but enough to ensure he gets the message across without implicating himself.” Dominic added.
The casual way he said it made my stomach drop.
“And he’s already your enemy,” I said, something cold settling in my chest. “You both cost him millions with the Vertex deal.”
“Yes,” Blake said simply. “Vicente has reason to dislike us.”
“Dislike?” Penny’s voice rose. “Blake, this is the mob! They kill people!”
“Allegedly,” Blake said, his lips curling in that infuriating dismissive half-smile.
“You’re being awfully calm about this.” I tapped my chopsticks against the ceramic plate, creating a soft staccato rhythm.
Blake’s blue eyes met mine, and for just a moment, I saw something cold and calculating beneath his usual mild demeanor. Something that reminded me exactly what he and Dominic were capable of.
“Panic is counterproductive,” he said. “Vicente is dangerous—that’s established.” He leaned back in his chair. “The question is how we manage it.”
My gaze drifted to the window as Margie’s words tumbled through my mind. Something didn’t quite add up—
“What are you thinking?” Dominic’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. His gray eyes caught mine, anchoring me to the present.
I frowned, my chopsticks hovering midair as my intuition nagged at me. “I’m just not so certain Vicente killed Thomas.”
“What about Vicente?” Jake appeared in the kitchen doorway, his pale face and tense posture suggesting he’d heard at least some of our conversation.
Blake pulled out his phone, typing quickly. “I’m activating additional security protocols for the building—biometric access only, cameras on all entry points, direct alert to my phone for any unauthorized access attempts.”
“You have ‘additional security protocols’?” I asked.
“Marcus’ team does.” Blake’s smile was thin.
I watched his fingers move across the phone’s scene, his expression calm. It baffled me that he could discuss mob threats and murder investigations with the same detached precision he might use for quarterly profit margins.
Jake’s fingers curled over the back of the chair we’d saved for him until his knuckles blanched against the dark wood. “This is insane. Less than a year ago, my biggest worry was remembering to proof the sourdough overnight.”
“You’ve been braver than any of us,” Penny said softly, reaching up to squeeze Jake’s shoulder.
Blake pocketed his phone. “Marcus is locking the building down for tonight.”
Dominic’s hand found mine under the table, his fingers warm and steady against my palm.
“We’ll turn everything we’ve gathered on the Antonellis over to the authorities,” Dominic said firmly. “If there’s something that can be used against him, Katherine will find it.”
Blake picked up his wine glass. “Once there’s an official federal investigation, Vicente has to be much more careful.”
The casual competence with which he said it suddenly made me reassess exactly how dangerous Blake Harrington actually was. Not mob-dangerous. But dangerous in the way that very wealthy, very connected, very ruthless men could be.
“You’ve both done this before,” I said slowly. “Dealt with threats like this.”
“Different threats,” Blake corrected. “But yes. We’ve learned to be thorough. A solid shield means nothing when your blade cuts deeper than your enemy’s.”
I stared at Blake, my gaze tracing the expensive cut of his suit, the perfect windsor knot of his tie. “You say that like this is some sort of genteel game, but how exactly does that make you two different from Vicente?”
“We stay within the law,” Blake said simply. “That’s the difference.”
“You make it sound so clean,” I challenged.
“Far from it,” Blake corrected. His lips quirked. “Worked perfectly too… until you came along and Dominic caught feelings.”
“Hey now,” my alpha protested mildly. He raised his glass to his lips, the dark liquid swirling against crystal.
“It’s true,” Blake said with devastating bluntness. “Suddenly my perfectly ruthless operative developed a conscience.”
“I regret nothing,” Dominic said, his hand tightening on my thigh.
“You cost us millions,” Blake pointed out.
“Worth it,” Dominic said simply, looking at me.
The warmth that spread through my chest at those words, at the absolute certainty in his voice, made my throat tight.
“Jesus Christ,” Penny muttered. “You corporate people are terrifying.”
“I prefer ruthlessly effective,” Blake said.
“There’s a difference?” Penny countered as he smiled sweetly and took a deliberate bite of spring roll.
I pushed my plate away, suddenly feeling like I wanted to tell everyone.
Dominic noticed immediately. “You okay?”
“Yes… just—” I said. “I want to tell them.”
Everyone’s attention swiveled to me. Blake’s expression shifted to that analytical assessment, Jake looked confused, and Penny’s smile intensified.
Dominic’s fingers pressed into my thigh, the pressure reassuring as he met my gaze.
“Tell us what?” Blake asked.
“There’s something else you should know,” I said. I glanced at Dominic, who gave me an encouraging nod. “I’m pregnant. About thirteen weeks.”
The silence that followed was brief.
Jake’s eyes went wide with genuine surprise. Blake, however, simply nodded once, his expression shifting to something like satisfaction.