Chapter 9 - Ask Me Again
For perhaps the first time in his adult life, Dante Caruso had no words.
I enjoyed it more than I should have.
He stared at my hand.
Then at the ring in his palm.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“You’re asking me to ask you?”
“I’m giving you an opportunity.”
“That sounds suspiciously like a threat.”
“It might expire.”
His eyes narrowed.
“How soon?”
“Five.”
“Five what?”
“Four.”
“Emma.”
“Three.”
He caught my hand.
I laughed.
Then his expression changed.
The teasing disappeared.
He lowered himself slowly onto one knee.
Right there on the sidewalk outside my tiny new office.
Cars passed.
People walked around us.
Nobody important watched.
No chandeliers.
No VIP section.
No audience that mattered.
Exactly right.
Dante looked up at me.
“When I first saw you, you were pouring champagne while pretending you wanted the world not to notice you.”
My throat tightened.
“I noticed.”
He opened the box.
“I noticed when your hand shook. I noticed when you stood straighter every time Marcus tried to make you smaller. I noticed that you were frightened and furious and still more worried about losing your job than impressing anyone in that ballroom.”
My eyes filled.
“Dante.”
“I thought I was protecting you when I stood up.”
He smiled faintly.
“I know better now.”
He took my hand.
“You did not need me to save you.”
His thumb brushed across my knuckles.
“You needed someone who would stand beside you while you saved yourself.”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“That was much better than your first dinner invitation.”
“I practiced.”
“I can tell.”
He smiled.
Then became serious again.
“Emma Bennett, I don’t want to own your future. I don’t want to decide it for you. I only want the privilege of being included in it.”
My breath trembled.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled like he had been holding his breath for a year.
Then he slipped the ring onto my finger.
This time, it meant exactly what I wanted it to mean.
I pulled him up and kissed him.
Someone across the street applauded.
Dante looked annoyed.
I laughed against his mouth.
Then his phone rang.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
“Answer it.”
“No.”
“Dante.”
“I’m having a moment.”
“It could be important.”
“You are important.”
I kissed him once.
“Answer your phone, Grandpa.”
His expression froze.
I burst out laughing.
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“That man nearly died after saying that.”
“You’re not going to kill your fiancée.”
“Do not test the limits of romance.”
He answered.
His amusement vanished.
“What?”
I watched his face.
Then mine did too.
“What happened?”
He lowered the phone.
“Marcus disappeared.”
The joy of the previous minute evaporated.
“From federal custody?”
“During transport.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
My stomach tightened.
Two hours later, we learned the truth.
Marcus had not escaped.
His transport vehicle had been hit.
The driver was hospitalized.
Another federal witness was dead.
Marcus was missing.
Everyone assumed Vale’s remaining associates had taken him.
Then a package arrived at my office.
No return address.
Inside was my original wedding ring.
The one I had returned to Marcus after our divorce.
Beneath it was a note.
He kept one secret from you. Ask what happened the night your father died.
Dante read it twice.
“Vale.”
“Maybe.”
“Or someone who wants us to think Vale.”
My mother arrived an hour later.
The moment she saw my old ring, she went pale.
“You know something.”
She sat down.
“Your father called Marcus that night.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Marcus was young. He was working for Vale already.”
“How did Dad know him?”
“He didn’t. Not really.”
She looked ashamed.
“Your father had discovered Vale was recruiting people around our family. Marcus was one of them.”
“Dad called him?”
“He offered him a way out.”
The room became silent.
“Marcus met your father at the restaurant.”
My heart began pounding.
“Was Marcus there when Dad was poisoned?”
“Yes.”
“Did he do it?”
“No.”
Her answer was immediate.
“How do you know?”
“Because Marcus tried to save him.”
Everything I believed shifted again.
“Vale threatened Marcus afterward. Told him if he ever spoke, you would be next.”
I sat down.
“And then he married me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think initially because Vale ordered him to.”
The familiar wound opened.
“But later?”
My mother looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
The door opened.
One of Dante’s men entered.
“We found Marcus.”
“Where?”
“South Boston.”
Dante stood.
The man continued.
“He’s alive.”
Relief hit me unexpectedly.
Then came the rest.
“And he’s asking for Emma.”
We found Marcus inside my father’s abandoned original workshop.
He was bruised.
Bleeding.
Handcuffed to a radiator.
But alive.
Dante’s men cleared the building.
I approached slowly.
Marcus looked at my hand.
At Dante’s ring.
A sad smile appeared.
“So he finally asked.”
“Yes.”
Marcus nodded.
For once, no cruelty.
“Good.”
I crouched.
“Who did this?”
He looked at Dante.
Then at me.
“You’re not going to like the answer.”
“Try me.”
Marcus swallowed.
“Richard Vale wasn’t running everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“He had a partner.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked toward the doorway.
My mother stood there.
His face filled with fear.
May you like
Then he whispered the name.
“Teresa Caruso.”
