Chapter 9 - Learning to Live
Three months later, Dominic sold the penthouse.
Tommy nearly dropped his coffee when he heard.
“You love that place.”
“No. I survived there.”
“That’s an expensive distinction.”
Dominic looked around the empty living room.
Furniture had been removed.
The enormous windows remained.
For years, he had watched Chicago from behind them like a prisoner watching weather through bars.
Now the city waited below.
Alessandro remained in federal custody awaiting trial on a sprawling list of charges.
Evan Mercer had accepted a plea agreement that guaranteed he would spend years in prison.
Dr. Henderson lost his medical license and became a cooperating witness.
The Russo organization changed too.
Dominic liquidated illegal operations, closed trafficking routes, and transferred legitimate holdings into a new corporate structure.
Some captains left.
Some threatened him.
A few discovered that Dominic Russo no longer needed to be a criminal boss to be dangerous in a boardroom.
Tommy became chief operating officer of Russo Logistics.
He complained that corporate meetings were crueler than organized crime.
Abigail laughed when Dominic told her.
Her own life had changed.
She returned to work.
Not for Dominic.
That distinction mattered to both of them.
She joined a rehabilitation center specializing in trauma recovery and began volunteering with an organization supporting survivors of domestic abuse.
Her bruises faded.
The instinct to cover her wrists took longer.
One October afternoon, she met Dominic beside Lake Michigan.
He was walking without his cane.
Not perfectly.
His limp remained.
Probably always would.
But the cane stayed in the car.
“You’re late,” she said.
“Three minutes.”
“You used to threaten people for less.”
“I’m growing.”
She smiled.
Their relationship had moved slowly.
Painfully slowly, according to Tommy.
Dominic refused to confuse gratitude with love.
Abigail refused to exchange one powerful man controlling her life for another, even a man she trusted.
So they learned each other outside crisis.
Coffee.
Walks.
Arguments over movies.
Quiet dinners.
Dominic discovered Abigail hated olives.
Abigail discovered Dominic secretly watched terrible cooking competitions.
He denied it despite overwhelming evidence.
One evening, she found him standing outside her apartment.
He held flowers.
Not roses.
Wildflowers.
“You look uncomfortable,” she said.
“I have negotiated with armed men more easily than this.”
“That’s encouraging.”
He handed her the flowers.
“I want to ask you something.”
Her smile faded slightly.
He noticed immediately.
“No pressure.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know, Dominic.”
He breathed.
“Would you have dinner with me?”
“We have dinner twice a week.”
“A date.”
She stared at him.
Dominic Russo, once the most feared man in Chicago’s underworld, looked genuinely terrified.
Abigail smiled.
“Yes.”
Their first official date ended with rain.
They stood beneath the awning outside a small restaurant.
Dominic looked at her mouth.
Then her eyes.
“May I kiss you?”
Abigail’s throat tightened.
Not from fear.
From the fact that he still asked.
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
Almost cautious.
Then she caught his shirt and kissed him again.
Dominic forgot the rain.
For the first time in years, he forgot everything.
Until a car backfired.
His entire body locked.
Abigail felt it.
He pulled away, breathing hard.
For a second, shame crossed his face.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“I thought I was past this.”
“You’re not supposed to be past anything.”
He looked at her.
“You told me that once.”
“I’m very wise.”
“You’re occasionally tolerable.”
She laughed.
He did too.
And the panic passed.
That mattered more than never feeling it.
Winter arrived.
On November 14, the fifth anniversary after Leo’s death had already passed, but the sixth anniversary approached with a different weight.
Dominic went to the cemetery.
Abigail offered to accompany him.
He asked to go alone.
She understood.
Dominic stood before Leo’s grave for nearly an hour.
“I’m out,” he finally said.
Wind moved through the bare trees.
“I should’ve listened sooner.”
He placed Leo’s repaired watch beside the headstone for a moment before fastening it around his own wrist.
Then he smiled sadly.
“And there’s someone.”
He imagined Leo laughing.
Of course there is.
“She’s stubborn.”
Another imagined laugh.
Dominic looked toward the gray Chicago sky.
“I think you would’ve liked her.”
When he returned to the car, Abigail was not there.
He frowned.
Then his phone rang.
Her clinic.
Dominic answered.
“Mr. Russo?”
Something in the receptionist’s voice made his blood run cold.
“It’s Abigail.”
He gripped the phone.
“What happened?”
“There was an accident.”
For half a second, five years vanished.
He was back beneath Lower Wacker.
Fire.
Blood.
Leo.
Then Dominic forced himself into the present.
“Where is she?”
“Northwestern.”
He drove there with Tommy.
Not hiding in the back.
Not closing his eyes.
When he reached the emergency department, Abigail was sitting on an examination bed with a bandage around her forehead.
Dominic stopped.
She looked up.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“You look furious.”
“I was told there was an accident.”
“There was.”
“What happened?”
“A patient’s mobility equipment slipped. I caught her and hit my head on a cabinet.”
Dominic stared.
“You nearly killed me.”
“I have a mild concussion.”
“You nearly killed me with your mild concussion.”
Abigail smiled.
Then she noticed something.
He had come immediately.
No panic attack.
No hesitation.
No fortress.
She held out her hand.
Dominic took it.
“I love you,” she said.
He froze.
Abigail’s smile disappeared.
“Okay. That reaction could use work.”
“No.”
Dominic moved closer.
“No, I just…”
He laughed softly.
“I’ve been trying to find the right time to say it for two months.”
“And?”
“I love you too.”
She pulled him down and kissed him.
Behind the curtain, Tommy muttered, “Finally.”
Abigail burst out laughing.
Dominic glared toward the curtain.
“Tommy.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Good.”
“Congratulations.”
“Leave.”
The door closed.
Abigail looked at Dominic.
“So what happens now?”
He thought about it.
For most of his life, the future had meant threats.
Now it looked frightening for an entirely different reason.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Abigail squeezed his hand.
For once, neither of them needed to.
