Chapter 7 - The Empty Chair
Alessandro survived.
Barely.
The bullet had missed his liver by less than an inch.
Victor called that luck.
I called it the first decent thing the universe had done for me in years.
For thirty-six hours, Alessandro remained unconscious.
I stayed.
Victor pretended not to notice.
On the second night, I fell asleep with my head beside Alessandro's hand.
When I woke, fingers were moving through my hair.
I lifted my head.
His eyes were open.
“You look terrible,” he whispered.
I burst into tears.
His expression changed immediately.
“Claire?”
“You got shot.”
“I noticed.”
“You almost died.”
“Yes.”
“And your first sentence is that I look terrible?”
“I've had stronger openings.”
I laughed and cried simultaneously.
He watched me.
Then his expression softened.
“You stayed.”
“Apparently I make bad decisions when sleep-deprived.”
His thumb touched my cheek.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Being here.”
That should have been the beginning.
Instead, it became another ending.
Three days later, federal investigators froze several Romano companies.
News outlets connected Alessandro to the Vale investigation.
Banks panicked.
Business partners disappeared.
And Alessandro pushed me away.
“You should leave.”
I stood beside his hospital window.
“Excuse me?”
“Vale's organization isn't gone. Sebastian has allies.”
“So?”
“So anyone near me remains a target.”
“You don't get to decide that for me.”
“I do when my life puts yours in danger.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You really learned nothing.”
His eyes hardened.
“Claire.”
“There it is again. Alessandro Romano making decisions for everyone because apparently being feared gives you a doctorate in knowing what's best.”
“This isn't a joke.”
“Neither am I.”
He looked away.
That hurt more than anger.
“I don't want you here.”
I knew he was lying.
Maybe that was why it hurt.
“Look at me and say it.”
He didn't.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, he did.
“I don't want you here.”
His eyes betrayed every word.
I picked up my coat.
“Congratulations.”
His face tightened.
“You finally learned how to lie.”
I walked out.
For two weeks, I returned to ordinary life.
Or tried.
Mom came home from the hospital.
Dad rented an apartment three blocks away because seventeen years could not be repaired by pretending they had never happened.
Rosa replaced the broken jukebox.
Dana asked me approximately forty times whether I had kissed Alessandro.
I said no.
Technically true.
Then one rainy Thursday, a lawyer entered Rosie’s.
“Claire Bennett?”
“Yes.”
He handed me an envelope.
Inside was a deed.
Rosie’s Diner.
Transferred to me.
I stared at Rosa.
She looked equally shocked.
The lawyer handed me another document.
A letter.
Claire,
You told me once that fear and surrender were not the same thing.
I didn't understand you then.
I do now.
Rosie wants to retire. The diner was going to be sold. I bought the building before someone else could.
It belongs to you.
No debt.
No condition.
If you refuse it, Rosa says she will hit me with a frying pan.
I believe her.
—A.
I drove to Alessandro's mansion that evening.
He was in the library.
Walking with a cane.
He looked shocked when I entered.
I slapped the deed against his chest.
“You bought me a diner?”
“Technically, I bought you a building.”
“Why?”
“Because you love it.”
“You can't solve everything with money.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you keep trying?”
His voice dropped.
“Because money is the only thing I've ever had enough of.”
That stopped me.
He looked down.
“I didn't know how to give you anything else.”
The anger left me.
“Try honesty.”
He met my eyes.
“All right.”
“Why did you send me away?”
“Because I love you.”
Silence.
He seemed almost surprised he had said it.
I was definitely surprised.
“You have an unusual romantic technique.”
“I've been told.”
“By whom?”
“No one.”
I stepped closer.
“You love me?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“That's not helpful.”
“Possibly when you returned ninety-seven dollars.”
I smiled despite myself.
“That's deeply embarrassing for you.”
“Yes.”
I touched his face.
He stopped breathing.
Then I kissed him.
It wasn't dramatic.
No orchestra.
No applause.
Just two exhausted people standing beside a fireplace after surviving something neither had expected.
When we separated, Alessandro rested his forehead against mine.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“There is something else.”
I sighed.
“Of course there is.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside were financial records.
A company name had been highlighted.
Bennett Holdings.
“What is this?”
“The trust my father created.”
I looked at the number.
Then looked again.
Thirty-two million dollars.
My knees weakened.
“That belongs to Dad?”
Alessandro shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
May you like
“Then who?”
“You.”
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