Chapter 8 - The Woman He Couldn’t Own
Caleb Dane made his final mistake because he misunderstood Nora.
He thought she was Roman Bellini’s weakness.
He never considered that she might be the trap.
Federal agents established surveillance around Second Table.
Nora continued rebuilding.
Publicly, nothing changed.
Privately, every entrance had cameras.
Roman hated the plan.
“You’re bait.”
“I’m participating.”
“You’re bait with better vocabulary.”
“Roman.”
He rubbed his face.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“If anything happens—”
“You’ll follow the plan.”
He stared.
“Say it.”
“I will follow the plan.”
“And?”
“I will not murder anyone.”
“Roman.”
“I’m agreeing reluctantly.”
She smiled.
Three days passed.
Nothing.
On the fourth evening, Nora stayed late.
Roman was supposed to remain two blocks away with federal agents.
At 11:43, the rear alarm sounded.
Nora’s pulse jumped.
A man entered through the damaged kitchen.
Caleb.
He looked nothing like Victor.
Younger.
Thinner.
Wild-eyed.
He carried a gun.
“Nora.”
She raised her hands.
“Caleb.”
“You destroyed my family.”
“No. Victor did.”
“Shut up.”
He approached.
Nora’s microphone transmitted everything.
“You turned Roman against us.”
“No.”
“You made him weak.”
Nora almost smiled.
“That’s what your uncle never understood either.”
Caleb frowned.
“Roman was never strongest when people feared him.”
“Shut up.”
“He was strongest when he finally stopped needing them to.”
Caleb grabbed her.
Outside, Roman heard everything.
Every instinct screamed at him to enter.
The federal agent held his arm.
“Wait.”
Roman’s jaw clenched.
Inside, Caleb dragged Nora toward the rear door.
Then Nora saw something.
Mia’s old serving tray.
Heavy stainless steel.
She kicked it.
The tray crashed against a stack of pans.
Caleb turned instinctively.
Nora drove her elbow into his ribs.
The gun fired.
Roman heard the shot.
That ended patience.
He entered with the tactical team.
“Nora!”
Caleb seized her.
Gun against her neck.
Roman stopped.
The room became silent.
Caleb smiled.
“There he is.”
Roman slowly raised his hands.
“Let her go.”
“Drop the gun.”
Roman placed his weapon on the floor.
Nora watched him.
“Kick it.”
Roman obeyed.
Caleb laughed.
“The great Roman Bellini.”
Roman’s eyes never left Nora.
“What do you want?”
“You dead.”
“Then take me.”
“No.”
Nora spoke.
“Caleb.”
“Quiet.”
“You know why Victor lost?”
His grip tightened.
“Because he couldn’t imagine Roman choosing something besides power.”
Caleb’s eyes flicked toward her.
That was enough.
Nora dropped.
Roman moved.
Agents fired.
Caleb collapsed.
For several seconds, Nora heard nothing except ringing.
Then Roman was on his knees beside her.
He reached toward her.
Stopped.
Even now.
“Can I?”
Nora nodded.
Roman pulled her into his arms.
She shook against him.
“I thought—”
“I know.”
“I heard the gun.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were—”
“I’m here.”
He buried his face against her hair.
Police filled the room.
Caleb survived.
He was arrested.
The remaining organization collapsed within weeks.
For the first time in years, there was no one hunting Nora.
No one hunting Roman.
No ghost standing behind them.
But safety created a question danger had postponed.
What were they now?
One evening, Nora found Roman sitting inside the newly restored café.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No.”
“You bought a motorcycle.”
“I did.”
“You hate motorcycles.”
“I’m exploring hobbies.”
She sat opposite him.
“Roman.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know what comes next.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I know how to run organizations. I know shipping. Property. Finance.”
“You’re also strangely good at making pancakes.”
“That information is confidential.”
Nora smiled.
Roman looked at her.
“I don’t want my old life.”
“Good.”
“But I don’t know what my new one is.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I dislike uncertainty.”
“I know.”
She took his hand.
“Try something small.”
“Such as?”
“Tomorrow morning, come here at seven.”
“Why?”
“You need a job.”
Roman looked genuinely offended.
“Nora.”
“Seven.”
“I own three logistics companies.”
“And none of them teach you how to make espresso.”
“I know how.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Roman stared.
Then smiled.
“All right.”
He arrived at 6:45.
For the next six months, Roman rebuilt his life.
He returned to legitimate logistics work.
He created a legal assistance fund for families affected by the old organization.
He did not put his name on it.
Luca joined him.
Nora reopened Second Table.
Business exploded after the fire.
One Friday night, Roman arrived wearing a suit.
Nora looked suspicious.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“Dinner.”
“With whom?”
“You.”
“Did I agree?”
“No.”
She folded her arms.
Roman sighed.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Better.”
“Tonight?”
“I’m working.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Maybe.”
Roman smiled.
That single word would once have infuriated him.
Now he kissed her forehead.
“Maybe is progress.”
Nora watched him leave.
Mia appeared.
“You are torturing that man.”
“He needs character development.”
“He went to federal prison.”
“More.”
Mia laughed.
The following evening Nora agreed.
Roman took her somewhere unexpected.
Not an expensive restaurant.
A tiny diner in Queens.
The same diner where they had first met eight years earlier.
Nora stared.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you.”
“That line almost worked.”
“Almost?”
She smiled.
They sat in the same booth.
Halfway through dinner, Roman reached into his jacket.
Nora’s eyes widened.
“No.”
Roman froze.
“What?”
“If that’s a ring, put it away.”
He slowly removed his hand.
Empty.
“It was my wallet.”
Nora covered her face.
Roman started laughing.
“You thought I was proposing?”
“Stop.”
“Nora Ellis is afraid of a jewelry box.”
“Roman.”
He laughed harder.
She kicked him beneath the table.
Later, outside, Roman became serious.
“I do have a ring.”
Nora stopped.
“At home.”
“Roman—”
“I’m not asking.”
She studied him.
“I bought it because for most of my life, wanting something meant taking it.”
His eyes softened.
“I wanted to know if I could want something without demanding it.”
Nora’s throat tightened.
“So the ring stays there.”
“Until?”
“Until you ask me to bring it.”
Nora kissed him.
“Maybe someday.”
Roman smiled.
“Maybe.”
But neither of them knew that someone else was waiting outside Nora’s apartment that night.
A woman.
Sixty years old.
May you like
Holding a sealed envelope Luca had believed was destroyed in the explosion.
And inside it was the last secret Victor Dane had left behind.
