Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF BEING ALIVE
The fall of the Marino syndicate did not happen overnight.
It happened through paperwork.
Emily considered that appropriate.
Federal prosecutors spent six months unraveling decades of hidden accounts, fraudulent contracts, bribery networks, illegal gambling operations, and smuggling routes.
Giuseppe Marino accepted a plea agreement after Michael Baresi agreed to testify.
Anthony March was arrested for kidnapping, unlawful confinement, conspiracy, and several offenses Emily privately described as “an exhausting number of felonies.”
Vincent Rizzo received limited immunity in exchange for cooperation.
Victor Novak entered witness protection.
Gabriel Marino refused witness protection because, in his words, he had already been dead once and found the paperwork inconvenient.
Sal Genovese returned two million, seven hundred eighty thousand dollars of the stolen funds.
Emily asked what happened to the remaining amount.
Sal avoided her for three weeks.
Dante discovered something stranger than prison threats during those months.
Free time.
For the first time since he was twenty-one, no one expected him to run an illegal empire.
Marino Freight survived.
So did Marino Construction.
The legitimate companies employed nearly four thousand people who had never known anything about coded manifests or offshore money.
Dante could have sold everything.
He considered it.
Emily refused.
“You have four thousand employees.”
“I’m aware.”
“Some have children.”
“Yes.”
“Mortgages.”
“Yes.”
“Medical bills.”
“Yes, Emily.”
“Then stop sulking and run the legal companies.”
“I am not sulking.”
“You’ve been staring out the window for forty minutes.”
“I was thinking.”
“You were dramatically thinking.”
Dante looked at her.
She sat behind what had once been his desk because the federal restructuring team required mountains of documentation and Emily had somehow become the only person capable of locating anything.
“What is the distinction?”
“Lighting.”
Dante smiled.
It happened more often now.
At first, employees reacted with visible alarm.
One accountant dropped a coffee when Dante said good morning.
A receptionist called security after hearing him laugh inside an elevator.
Security arrived.
Dante laughed harder.
People adapted.
Slowly.
The forty-second floor changed.
Emily opened the blinds.
She replaced the dark Persian rugs with practical low-pile carpeting.
Dante protested.
“You removed the rugs.”
“Yes.”
“They were handmade.”
“They were impossible to clean.”
“I am never escaping that conversation, am I?”
“No.”
Something else changed.
Dante began visiting Havenbrook.
The first time, Emily assumed he was checking security.
The second time, Owen invited him to play chess.
Dante lost.
He accused Owen of cheating.
Owen explained in great detail why Dante’s strategy was predictable.
Dante returned the following Tuesday.
Within a month, the two had a standing game.
Owen never treated Dante like a feared crime boss.
Mostly because Owen cared far more about chess rankings and public transportation maps.
One afternoon, Emily arrived at Havenbrook to find them arguing over train schedules.
“The Purple Line express does not stop at every station,” Owen said.
“I know.”
“You said Belmont.”
“I misspoke.”
“You don’t misspeak.”
Dante looked toward Emily.
“Your brother is harassing me.”
Emily smiled.
“You deserve it.”
Owen looked between them.
“You like each other.”
Both went silent.
Owen returned to the chessboard.
Emily’s face warmed.
Dante stared at the ceiling.
Later, walking through the parking lot, Emily said, “He notices things.”
“So I’ve learned.”
“He also says whatever he notices.”
“So I’ve learned.”
Rain had begun.
Dante opened an umbrella.
Emily stepped beneath it.
Neither spoke for several yards.
Then Dante stopped.
“Emily.”
She turned.
He looked uncomfortable.
Dante Marino, who had once faced armed rivals without blinking, seemed terrified of a conversation in a suburban parking lot.
“What?”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Hold an umbrella?”
“This.”
He gestured between them.
Emily’s heart accelerated.
“What exactly is this?”
“You know.”
“I would like to hear you say it.”
He stared at her.
She waited.
Dante sighed.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He looked toward the rain.
Then back at her.
“I think about you when you’re not there.”
Emily’s expression softened.
“I know that is not particularly eloquent.”
“It’s a start.”
“I know when you skip lunch.”
“That is creepy.”
“I know when you are pretending not to worry about Owen.”
“Also creepy.”
“I know you drink terrible coffee because you believe buying expensive coffee is financially irresponsible.”
“It is.”
“You make twelve thousand dollars a month.”
“I have trauma.”
A laugh escaped him.
Then his face became serious.
“And when something frightens you, you clean.”
Emily stopped smiling.
“You noticed.”
“Yes.”
“That one was less creepy.”
Dante moved closer.
“I know I spent nine years believing loving someone meant eventually watching them die.”
Emily looked into his eyes.
“And?”
“And I don’t know how to stop believing it.”
Rain tapped against the umbrella.
Emily’s voice softened.
“You don’t stop being afraid.”
Dante waited.
“You decide the fear isn’t in charge.”
Clara’s words returned.
Live anyway.
Dante lifted one hand.
Slowly.
Giving Emily time to move away.
She did not.
His fingers touched her cheek.
“You terrify me.”
Emily smiled faintly.
“That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He laughed.
Then kissed her.
There was nothing dramatic about it.
No orchestra.
No gunfire.
No declaration beneath a chandelier.
Just two tired people beneath an umbrella in an Evanston parking lot while cars drove through puddles nearby.
Emily’s hands rested against his coat.
Dante kissed her carefully.
Almost cautiously.
When they separated, he kept his forehead near hers.
“That was terrible,” Emily whispered.
He froze.
“What?”
She smiled.
“I’m kidding.”
Dante stared.
Then laughed so hard a woman getting into a minivan looked over.
Emily kissed him again.
This time, he stopped being cautious.
For several weeks, they told no one.
They believed this.
They were wrong.
Vincent noticed the first morning Dante arrived at work carrying two coffees.
Sal noticed when Emily began using Dante’s private elevator.
Carl from IT noticed when Dante changed Emily’s emergency contact authorization.
Owen had known before the first kiss.
The relationship was not easy.
Dante had habits built from violence.
He checked exits.
Tracked cars.
Tried to assign security to Emily without asking.
She discovered the extra guard on day two.
“No.”
“It’s for protection.”
“No.”
“You were kidnapped twice.”
“Which is why I have pepper spray.”
“Pepper spray.”
“And very aggressive opinions.”
Dante compromised.
One security officer.
At a distance.
Emily compromised by pretending not to notice him.
The larger problem arrived in November.
Exactly nine years after Clara’s death.
Dante disappeared for an entire day.
Emily found him at the cemetery.
Snow covered the ground.
Clara’s grave stood beneath an oak tree.
Dante sat on a stone bench.
Emily approached quietly.
He looked up.
“I thought you might be here.”
He nodded.
She sat beside him.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Dante said, “I kissed you.”
Emily blinked.
“Yes.”
“I mean…”
He looked toward Clara’s grave.
“I kissed you and felt guilty.”
Emily understood.
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t.”
He frowned.
“That seems overly simple.”
“Guilt doesn’t mean you did something wrong.”
Dante stared at the snow.
“It feels like leaving her.”
Emily took his hand.
“You don’t have to leave her.”
He looked at her.
“You loved Clara.”
“Yes.”
“You still love Clara.”
“Yes.”
“And you love me.”
The word hung between them.
Dante stopped breathing.
Emily had not planned to say it.
But there it was.
She looked at him.
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“The face of a man discovering emotions were not included in his original operating system.”
His mouth twitched.
Emily squeezed his hand.
“You can love who she was and still choose what comes next.”
Dante looked toward the grave.
For a long time.
Then he whispered, “I love you.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
She smiled.
“I know.”
“That’s all?”
“You took nine years to laugh. I assumed this might require another decade.”
Dante laughed through tears.
For the first time, grief and joy existed inside him at the same time.
Neither destroyed the other.
Snow fell quietly around them.
Emily leaned against his shoulder.
After several minutes, Dante reached inside his coat.
Emily noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Dante.”
He removed a small box.
Emily stared.
“No.”
His expression changed.
“No?”
“I mean not here.”
Relief flooded his face.
“You nearly killed me.”
“Do not propose to me at your dead wife’s grave.”
Dante looked toward Clara’s headstone.
“That is fair.”
“Extremely.”
He put the box away.
Emily stared at him.
“You brought a ring?”
“No.”
“You literally—”
“You rejected the location.”
“I did not reject the proposal.”
“You have not heard the proposal.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Dante stood.
A smile slowly appeared.
“You’ll have to wait.”
Emily stared in disbelief.
“You spent nine years silent and now you’ve become annoying.”
Dante walked toward the car.
Emily followed.
“Dante.”
He kept walking.
“Dante Marino.”
He laughed.
For half a block.
And Emily realized she had created a monster.
May you like
A happy one.
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