38. Dante
38
DANTE
I move slowly, still adjusting to the many holes in my body that haven’t yet fully healed. I roll up the sleeves on my black shirt as I walk toward the window and look out. If one didn’t know the recent events of my life, one could not guess that my body was riddled with bullets, torn apart then stitched back together by a team of first class doctors. It has been a week since I woke from my three day hiatus, a coma induced by the doctors to stem the pain that shook the foundations of my core.
I turn at the knock on my door and greet my father, who wastes no time coming to my side.
“Are you ready to resume your place at the head of the table?” my father asks, an invitation. He may have held down the fort while I was recuperating, but I know he is anxious to step aside and let me take the reins again.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I tell him, my eyes skating across the grounds until they reach the sun lounge by the pool where Kingsley sits reading a book.
“What of the Murray girl?” he asks, following my gaze.
“What about her?”
My father looks at me intently, telling me he doesn’t believe for one second that I don’t know what he is talking about. I continue to watch Kingsley, memorizing her mannerisms and the little quirks she has that make her so unique. The way she turns her head. The lift of her chin. The way she bites her lip. Her back is to me, so she can’t see me watching her, a fact I take great pleasure in.
“She’s here for a reason,” my father points out.
“We brought her here for a reason. There’s nothing to say we can’t change the dialogue and still get what we want.”
My father never involves himself in how I am conducting my business. He may at times ask that I do some rather dubious things, but for the most part, he leaves me to my own devices. He is well aware what I have given up to go into the family business and see us into a new era. I have gone against every one of the moral principles I have to make him happy. He knows very well that if he goes against my choices, I will walk away. I can always go back to the life I had mapped out and planned for myself. A simpler life. A better life. His ire would only serve to push me in that direction. And then he would lose everything. Everything that remained.
“She’s a liability.”
“You may see it that way, father. But she’s now my responsibility.”
“How so?”
“She’s under my care.”
“Even knowing there’s a bounty on her head for God-knows-what-she’s done?” my father fixes his questioning eyes on me.
“Especially for this reason. She needs protection and we can offer her that protection.”
“We’re not in the security business, Dante.” My father is fast losing his patience. I know this stems from his instinct to protect me over Kingsley – I found myself riddled with bullets because of something concerning her, not through my own efforts. He had not so long ago been advocating for her protection, but now that push had come to shove, he was willing to sacrifice her to ensure his own son’s safety first and foremost. Something that did not sit quite well with me.
“No, we’re not,” I agree. “But neither are we in the habit of finding a woman in trouble and throwing her to the wolves. I will not have her death on my conscience.”
“You’re losing sight of the bigger picture here, Dante.”
“There is no bigger picture without Kingsley,” I tell him. “And if you stop for one moment to consider the possibilities, you would realize that the bigger picture lies not only in the plan we had, but in all the prospects that could arise from having her here.”
“On what premise?”
“Whatever premise that may be. She’s here under my protection. I will not allow one hair on her head to be harmed.”