Chapter 6 Dante
DANTE
The phone rings for the fourth time in an hour, and I'm starting to expect more bad news.
I answer and hear the voice of one of my suppliers from Milan.
He sounds agitated before he even speaks.
"We have a problem," he says. "Three of my trucks were hijacked last night outside Bologna. The product is gone and two of my drivers are dead."
I lean back in my chair and press my fingers against my temples.
"Who hit you?" I ask him, knowing this is the worst call yet.
Things are stewing toward a major storm and I can't seem to get ahead of the ball.
"I don't know yet. But whoever it was knew the route and the timing. This wasn't random."
"Gerard," I say.
The supplier's quiet for a moment.
"You think he's behind this?"
"I know he is. He's pushing on every route I have. He wants to destabilize the network before my deadline with Kemal."
"Then you need to handle him. Because if this continues, I'm pulling out of our arrangement. I can't afford to lose any more product or men."
"Give me time," I say. "I'm working on it."
"You have one week. After that, I'm done."
He hangs up before I can respond, and I set the phone down and stare at the wall.
Gerard's moving faster than I anticipated.
He isn’t just targeting my shipments anymore.
He's going after my suppliers directly, cutting off my access to product and forcing them to abandon our partnerships.
If I lose enough suppliers, the organization collapses from the inside.
The phone rings again and this time, it's a contact from Genoa.
He tells me the same story with minor variations—another hijacking—more dead drivers, more lost product.
Gerard's name comes up twice in the conversation.
I hang up and stand because suddenly, I feel the need to move or I might explode.
Pacing helps me work off some of the anger that's been coiling in my chest for hours.
After this morning with Angelica trying to slip my guard, I've been ready to tear someone's head off.
All this bad news is only making things worse.
Rico appears in the doorway before I can leave.
He holds a sealed envelope in his hand.
"The DNA results came back, Boss," he says. "I figured you'd want to see them…" He narrows his eyes at me, and I move toward him.
I take the envelope and tear it open.
The document inside is a simple printout with very complex information with even more complex consequences.
The DNA match is confirmed with ninety-nine point nine percent certainty.
Sofia is my daughter and now I have the proof.
Angelica is a liar, having kept her from me for years.
I already knew it the moment I saw her brown eyes.
But seeing it confirmed in black and white makes it real now.
I have rights, and with my money and power, I could strip Angelica of everything.
It's not my goal or desire.
I was hoping she'd see that earring and realize that night all those years ago wasn't just a one-night stand for me.
I thought I'd track her down, and she vanished into the wind.
Folding the document, I slip it into my pocket.
Then I walk past Rico without a word and head toward the living room where I know my men have allowed the two of them to repose.
I need to see her.
I need to see them both.
When I reach the living room, I stop in the doorway.
Angelica sits on the couch with her legs tucked under her.
Sofia stands in front of the Christmas tree, reaching up to touch the ornaments.
She moves from one to the next, her small fingers tracing the shapes.
Angelica watches her with an anxious expression, like she's nervous the child will break something or maybe she’s still scared of being here.
I wish she didn’t feel that way, and I realize my behavior is part of that reason, but this was a bit of a shock to all of us.
I didn't have time to think before reacting.
I step into the room and Sofia notices me immediately.
She freezes and takes a step back toward her mother, so I keep my distance and my voice calm.
"What are you doing?" I ask gently.
Sofia doesn't answer.
She looks at Angelica for guidance and Angelica nods slightly.
"She's looking at the ornaments," Angelica says, but her voice is flat.
I move closer to the tree.
Sofia watches me warily but doesn't run. I crouch down beside her so I’m at her level.
There are no words to describe what I'm feeling, how delicate this situation is.
My little girl.
So beautiful and so smart, and she's right here and has no clue I’m her father.
And she’s scared of me because I’m a monster.
"Do you like them?" I ask.
She nods.
"Which one is your favorite?"
She points to a gold bulb near the middle of the tree.
It catches the light and glows softly.
"That's a good choice," I tell her with a smile.
She relaxes slightly.
Her shoulders drop and she turns back to the tree.
She reaches for another ornament, a small silver star just lying on a branch.
The hook is missing and the ornament falls into her hand.
She looks at it with confusion.
"It won't stay," she says.
I hold out my hand. "Let me see."
She hesitates, then places the star in my palm.
I examine it and see that the hook has broken off completely, so I stand and walk to the sideboard where Marta keeps crafting supplies.
I find a small box of ornament hooks and return to Sofia.
"We can fix it," I say.
I attach a clip to form a new hook to the star and hand it back to her.
She takes it carefully and looks up at me with wide eyes.
"Thank you," she whispers so softly and her eyes go wide in wonder.
"You're welcome."
She turns back to the tree and hangs the star on a low branch where she can reach it.
Then she steps back to admire her work and a small smile crosses her face.
I watch her and feel something swell in my chest.
It isn’t a feeling I'm familiar with.
It's warm and sharp at the same time.
It makes me think of things I haven't thought about in years.
My mother used to watch my brother and me decorate the tree when we were children.
She would sit in the same chair where Angelica is sitting now and smile as we argued over which ornaments went where.
My brother always wanted to put everything at the top.
I wanted them spread evenly across the branches.
We would compromise eventually, but not before our mother laughed at our stubbornness.
My brother's dead now, killed in a territorial dispute when I was sixteen.
My mother died two years later from grief and illness.
My father followed her within the year.
The holidays stopped meaning anything after that.
They became just another day to work through.
But standing here with Sofia, watching her admire these ornaments I remember from my own childhood, I feel something I've not felt in a long time.
I feel like there's a reason to keep fighting this mayhem and chaos.
Sofia moves to another ornament and tries to reach it, but it's too high for her, so I step forward and lift her without asking.
She tenses in my arms but doesn't protest.
I hold her steady while she adjusts the ornament on the branch.
When she's satisfied, I set her back down.
"Better?" I ask.
She nods and gives me that small smile again.
It does something to me.
It cracks open a part of my heart I thought had closed permanently.
I turn to Angelica.
She's watching us with an expression that shows her displeasure with her jaw tight and her hands clenched in her lap.
Sofia runs off toward the kitchen, calling for Marta to show her something.
I sit down beside Angelica on the couch.
She shifts away from me slightly but doesn't leave.
"The DNA results came back," I tell her, and seeing how stiff she is, my tension returns almost immediately.
Her body goes rigid.
"Of course they did, you bastard. You had no right."
"She's mine."
"Well, you already knew that, didn't you? Just had to prove it so you can take her from me."
"I'm not going to take her, Angelica."
No wonder she's so hard-hearted against me.
Is there nothing I can do for this woman that will soften her so she'll have a civil conversation?
She turns to face me and her eyes are hard.
"Like hell… Just fuck off."
She stands and walks to the window.
She crosses her arms and stares out at the garden.
Just her posture screams for me to stay away, and I again feel something I've never felt before.
Frustration that she's ignoring me.
How many women would throw themselves at me?
How many have?
And the one woman who has ties to me won’t even speak with me.
"Why did you keep my earring?" she asks suddenly.
I consider lying, but there's no point.
"Because some moments are worth remembering," I say, and I think fondly of how I wished for months after that encounter that I'd have found her.
She was a ghost in the wind and I looked for her everywhere.
She doesn't turn around.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that night mattered to me."
"Clearly, not enough," she grumbles, and she still doesn’t turn around to face me.
I detect hurt feelings but more than that, I detect a wall between us I'm determined to break down.
"I didn't know you were pregnant. If I'd known, I would've found you."
"Would you?" She finally turns to face me and I see the fury in her eyes. "Or would you have done exactly what you're doing now? Locked me up and taken my daughter?"
"I'm keeping you safe."
"You're keeping us prisoner."
I stand and move toward her.
She doesn't back away.
We're inches apart now, close enough that I can see the vein in her temple throbbing.
"Are you comfortable here?" I ask.
"Does it matter?"
"Answer the question."
She looks away.
"The room is fine. The food is fine. Everything is fine except the part where we can't leave." She meets my gaze again. "I want to go home, Dante. I want to take my daughter and go back to our life in Naples. I want to forget this ever happened."
"That's not an option, Angelica."
I want to reach up and cup her cheek tenderly, push her hair behind her ear and comfort her, but she'd probably bite me.
"Is it really that bad?" I ask quietly, and her anger softens into fear.
"Yes." She wraps her arms around herself. "How long do we have to stay here?"
"Until I eliminate the threat. Until Gerard is gone and my suppliers are secured and the missing shipment is recovered."
I watch her eyes dart around and her jaw work as if she's trying to bite back words.
Then she says something that shocks me. "Thank you."
I raise an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For keeping us safe. Even if I hate being here, I'd rather be alive and locked up than dead."
Her words come as some small relief from the torment I'm living under.
She hates me, and she hates being here around me, but she's grateful for my protection.
It means she's beginning to see how dangerous this could be for her and she's willing to stay put.
Which makes my job tomorrow easier.
"I'm leaving tonight," I say. "I have business to handle at the port. I'll be gone until morning."
"Okay."
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night. Just the two of us."
She looks at me like I just suggested something absurd.
"Why?"
"Because I want to talk to you without guards or locked doors or Sofia interrupting."
She studies my face for a long moment.
Then she nods and it looks more like acquiescence than acceptance.
"Fine. I'll have dinner with you."
"Good."
I turn to leave, then stop.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"Don't try to run again. I meant what I said about the chains."
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't argue.
I walk out of the living room and head upstairs to change.
I assumed it would take much longer to break her and get her comfortable here, and maybe this is all an act anyway.
But I'm glad she's agreed to dinner.
Now to sort out a few more things logistically for my business and I can get back on track with Kemal's deadline.
And getting to know my little girl.
Nothing in life will ever give me greater pleasure.