Chapter 8 - THE WRONG KIND OF FAMILYThree months changed the Duca estate more than the previous eleven years.
Mia was responsible for most of it.
A toy kitchen appeared beside the real kitchen.
Crayon drawings invaded the refrigerator.
One of Lorenzo’s security guards learned to braid hair because Clara was late for a doctor’s appointment.
Vincent was discovered wearing a plastic tiara during what Mia called an “important princess meeting.”
He denied everything.
Photographic evidence survived.
Daniel remained in Chicago under federal protection while negotiating immunity in exchange for testimony.
He visited Mia twice a week.
The first visits were awkward.
He brought expensive toys.
Mia preferred empty cardboard boxes.
He tried to take her to a fancy restaurant.
She asked for grilled cheese.
Eventually Daniel stopped trying to impress her.
He simply showed up.
They built puzzles.
Read books.
Walked through parks.
He answered difficult questions as honestly as a three-year-old could understand.
And slowly, Mia began calling him Daddy.
Lorenzo pretended that didn’t hurt.
Clara pretended she didn’t notice.
One snowy Friday evening, Daniel found Lorenzo in the study.
“You hate me.”
Lorenzo looked up.
“Not enough to make this conversation interesting.”
Daniel sat across from him.
“Mia talks about you constantly.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“She calls you her bonus Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo paused.
“What?”
Daniel laughed.
“Apparently preschool taught them about bonus families.”
“I am not a bonus anything.”
“You are now.”
Lorenzo poured bourbon.
Daniel declined.
“I wanted to thank you.”
“No.”
“For saving me.”
“I saved Mia from losing you.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“With Clara.”
“There is nothing with Clara.”
Daniel smiled.
“You look at her like a man watching someone carry nitroglycerin.”
Lorenzo stared.
“Are you trying to make me shoot you?”
“No.”
Daniel became serious.
“I loved Clara. Part of me probably always will.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
“But whatever chance I had, I burned it.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“She deserves someone who stays.”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
“Don’t give me permission.”
“I’m not.”
Daniel stood.
“I’m warning you.”
Then he left.
Two days later, Clara found Lorenzo in the conservatory repairing one of Mia’s toy chairs.
She stopped.
“You own half of Chicago and you’re using wood glue?”
“It broke.”
“We can buy another.”
“Mia said this one is married to the table.”
Clara smiled.
“Obviously we can’t separate a family.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“No.”
The word lingered.
Clara sat across from him.
“Daniel may have to leave.”
“I know.”
“He’s probably going into witness protection for at least a year.”
“I know.”
“She’s going to be devastated.”
“Yes.”
Clara’s voice softened.
“So will he.”
Lorenzo put down the chair.
“Clara.”
“What?”
“You spend your entire life feeling responsible for everyone’s pain.”
She looked surprised.
He continued.
“Mia. Daniel. Your sitter. The woman downstairs in your old building. Half the staff here.”
“That’s not true.”
“You gave Mrs. Russo your coat because she said she liked it.”
“She was cold.”
“She owns six coats.”
Clara folded her arms.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is you’re allowed to want something for yourself.”
She stared at him.
“And what do you think I want?”
Lorenzo suddenly looked much less fearless.
“I don’t know.”
She stood.
Then crossed the space between them.
“That’s because for someone who investigates everyone, you are occasionally very stupid.”
Before he could respond, she kissed him.
Not his cheek.
His mouth.
Lorenzo froze.
Apparently Mia’s influence had become contagious.
Clara pulled back.
His eyes remained closed for one second.
Then they opened.
“Do that again.”
She smiled.
“Bossy.”
“Clara.”
She kissed him again.
This time he moved.
His hand rested carefully against her waist.
The kiss stayed gentle.
Restrained.
Almost cautious.
Which made it more dangerous.
Then a tiny gasp came from the doorway.
They separated.
Mia stood holding Mr. Buttons.
Her eyes were enormous.
Clara’s face turned red.
“Mia—”
The child pointed.
“You kissed Lorenzo!”
“Yes.”
“On the mouth!”
“Yes.”
Mia ran down the hallway.
“VINCENT!”
Clara covered her face.
Lorenzo looked toward the ceiling.
Within thirty seconds, several members of the household knew.
By dinner, everyone did.
Vincent walked into the dining room smiling.
Lorenzo pointed at him.
“Say one word.”
Vincent sat down.
“I said nothing.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I have a joyful face.”
“No, you don’t.”
Mia giggled.
For the first time, dinner in Lorenzo’s house felt like a family dinner.
Chaotic.
Embarrassing.
Warm.
Then Lorenzo’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
Rebecca Hall.
He answered.
“What happened?”
A long pause.
Clara saw his jaw tighten.
“When?”
He stood.
“I’ll handle it.”
He ended the call.
“What is it?” Clara asked.
“Enzo Romano.”
The lieutenant who had left months earlier.
“What about him?”
“He approached federal investigators.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at Vincent.
“He’s offering evidence against me.”
The room went silent.
Daniel slowly put down his fork.
“What kind of evidence?”
“Enough to indict me.”
Clara stared.
“For what?”
Lorenzo did not answer immediately.
That told her everything.
He might be changing.
But he was not innocent.
The happy family dinner suddenly felt fragile.
Clara whispered, “Could you go to prison?”
Lorenzo looked at Mia.
May you like
Then back at Clara.
“Yes.”
