Chapter 9 - WHEN CLAIRE STOPPED WORKING FOR HIMSpring changed DeLuca House.
Claire noticed the first time she returned.
No guards pretending not to watch her.
No Vivian.
No Salvatore.
No political dinners.
The enormous estate still looked intimidating, but the pressure inside it had changed.
Roman had changed something else too.
The service hall.
The old employee bulletin board had been replaced with a new policy display.
Paid emergency leave.
Hazard protections.
Independent complaint reporting.
Medical benefits.
No employee could be ordered into hazardous conditions without security approval.
Claire stood staring.
Roman approached behind her.
“You’re reading my walls.”
“They’re impressive walls.”
“Thank you.”
“Who wrote these policies?”
“People who know what they’re doing.”
“So not you.”
“Correct.”
Claire smiled.
It had been four months since Christmas.
The investigations continued, but the major conspiracy was finished.
Charles Mercer pleaded guilty rather than face trial.
Vivian cooperated and received a reduced sentence.
Howard testified.
Salvatore pleaded guilty to multiple charges connected to Thomas’s death and the attempt on Claire.
Roman was never charged in Thomas’s killing.
He publicly acknowledged the DeLuca family’s role in the corruption that allowed it.
Claire had expected Chicago and New York society to destroy him.
Some tried.
Roman discovered he cared less than expected.
“What happens to the estate?” she asked.
“Still deciding.”
“You could sell it.”
“I considered it.”
“And?”
Roman looked around.
“I don’t want the worst people who lived here to get the final word.”
Claire understood.
She had made a decision too.
“I’m not coming back to work.”
Roman’s expression barely moved.
“Good.”
She blinked.
“That was easy.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
He stared at her.
“Because I would like to take you to dinner.”
Claire’s breath caught.
Roman continued.
“And I refuse to become the powerful employer asking an employee to date him.”
She stared.
“You thought about that?”
“For an embarrassing amount of time.”
Claire smiled.
“Good.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
His face fell slightly.
“It’s a maybe.”
“That seems unnecessarily cruel.”
“You’ll survive.”
He did.
For three weeks.
Claire accepted a new position at Harbor Ridge helping families navigate financial assistance for long-term rehabilitation.
She knew exactly what desperate families looked like.
She had been one.
Roman donated money to Harbor Ridge.
Claire immediately returned his first donation.
He called.
“You returned three million dollars.”
“You put your name on it.”
“It’s my name.”
“I don’t want a Roman DeLuca Wing.”
“What’s wrong with my name?”
“Do you want the full list?”
Roman eventually donated anonymously through an independent trust.
Claire accepted.
Then she agreed to dinner.
Their first date was deliberately ordinary.
A small Italian restaurant.
No private room.
No bodyguards at the next table.
Roman attempted to order a $900 bottle of wine.
Claire stared at him.
He stared at the wine list.
“Too soon?”
“Roman.”
He closed the menu.
“We’ll have water.”
She laughed so hard another table turned around.
They learned each other slowly.
Claire learned Roman hated olives.
Roman learned Claire secretly loved terrible reality television.
Claire learned he woke at 4:45 every morning.
Roman learned nobody should speak to Claire before coffee.
He visited Lily.
Lily interrogated him for forty minutes.
“What are your intentions?”
Claire nearly choked.
Roman answered seriously.
“Good ones.”
“That’s vague.”
“I respect your thoroughness.”
Lily eventually approved.
“Conditionally.”
Roman looked offended.
“What conditions?”
“Don’t be awful.”
“I can work with that.”
Claire laughed.
For the first time in years, life became almost boring.
Then one September evening Roman received a letter from federal prosecutors.
One final asset had been recovered from Mercer Capital.
A hidden account holding money stolen through Thomas Bennett’s falsified transactions.
Because Thomas had been coerced and later became a documented whistleblower, part of the recovered assets was eligible for restitution to his surviving family.
Claire and Lily received $612,000.
Claire stared at the number.
“This can’t be right.”
It was.
For years their father’s name had been associated with debt.
Now his stolen work was returning something to his daughters.
Claire used part of it to establish the Bennett Family Emergency Fund at Harbor Ridge.
Families facing sudden medical crises could receive temporary support without predatory loans.
Lily chose the logo.
A small lighthouse.
“Why a lighthouse?” Roman asked.
Lily shrugged.
“Because people need to know where land is.”
Roman became silent.
Claire touched his hand.
That December, DeLuca House hosted Christmas again.
But not for senators.
Not for businessmen.
Not for alliances.
Roman invited the estate employees and their families.
Harbor Ridge families came too.
Children occupied the ballroom.
Someone spilled juice on a rug worth more than Claire’s first car.
Roman looked at it.
Claire waited.
He shrugged.
“Rug survived worse.”
Mrs. Patel laughed so hard she had to sit down.
There was one strict rule.
Nobody worked unless they had volunteered for a paid shift.
At 8:17 p.m., almost exactly one year after Claire had walked into the blizzard, Roman found her near the service doors.
She was staring outside.
Snow had begun falling.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He stood beside her.
“I still think about it.”
“So do I.”
“You carried me inside.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“I knew you.”
“No.”
Claire looked up.
“You knew my name because it was on payroll.”
Roman accepted that.
“You’re right.”
She smiled softly.
“But you learned.”
“Yes.”
Outside, children ran through the first inch of snow.
Claire watched them.
“I used to hate this house.”
“I know.”
“I don’t anymore.”
Roman looked toward her.
“Why?”
“Because houses aren’t guilty.”
She smiled.
“People are.”
“And people can change?”
“Some.”
“Am I in that category?”
“Conditionally.”
“That sounds like Lily.”
“She’s smarter.”
Roman laughed.
Then his expression grew serious.
“I love you.”
Claire stopped breathing.
He had never said it.
Not once.
Roman looked almost annoyed with himself.
“I had a better speech.”
“That was very short.”
“I panicked.”
She laughed.
Roman touched her cheek.
“I love you, Claire Bennett.”
Her eyes filled.
“I love you too.”
He kissed her.
Behind them, forty children erupted into cheers because apparently nobody at DeLuca House understood privacy anymore.
Claire pulled away laughing.
Roman looked toward the crowd.
“You’re all fired.”
Mrs. Patel shouted:
“We don’t work for you tonight!”
More laughter.
Roman looked at Claire.
“See what you started?”
She smiled.
“No.”
May you like
She took his hand.
“Look what we changed.”
