Chapter 9 - The Price of Fear
Alessandro pushed me behind the stone wall before the second shot.
“Stay down.”
“Your mother—”
“Victor has her.”
Another shot struck the porch.
Alessandro moved through darkness with terrifying calm.
I understood why people feared him.
But now I also understood what fear had cost him.
His childhood.
His mother.
Twenty years of truth.
Matteo's men entered from the shoreline.
Victor returned fire from the house.
I crawled toward the side entrance.
Someone grabbed me.
I elbowed backward.
The man cursed.
Then a familiar voice said, “Claire!”
Victor.
“You scared the hell out of me.”
“Inside.”
“Where’s Elena?”
“Safe room.”
“And Alessandro?”
Victor looked toward the darkness.
“Hunting his uncle.”
That sentence was not reassuring.
I found Elena downstairs.
She was calm.
Too calm.
“You love him,” she said.
I stared.
“This is a strange time.”
“It may be the only time.”
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Another gunshot sounded.
Elena didn't flinch.
“I spent half my life hiding because I believed fear kept people alive.”
Her eyes filled.
“It only kept me away from my son.”
I understood.
I ran upstairs.
Victor swore behind me.
Outside, Alessandro had cornered Matteo near the cliff path.
Matteo held a gun.
Alessandro did too.
“You won't shoot me,” Matteo said.
“Why?”
“Because then you'll finally become your father.”
Alessandro's finger tightened.
I saw exactly what Matteo was doing.
“Alessandro.”
He didn't look at me.
Matteo smiled.
“There's your waitress.”
His gun shifted toward me.
Alessandro fired.
The bullet struck Matteo's shoulder.
His weapon fell.
Victor's men rushed forward.
Matteo collapsed.
Alessandro could have killed him.
Everyone knew it.
He walked closer.
Matteo laughed through the pain.
“Finish it.”
Alessandro stared down.
Then lowered his gun.
“No.”
Matteo's smile vanished.
“You don't deserve mercy.”
Alessandro's voice was cold.
“But I deserve not to become him.”
Federal agents arrived forty minutes later.
This time Matteo left surrounded by enough security to invade a small country.
At dawn, Alessandro sat on the porch.
I brought him coffee.
He looked suspiciously at the cup.
“Is this going to end up against a wall?”
“I've learned.”
I handed it to him.
“Progress.”
He drank.
Then looked at me.
“I’m leaving Romano Holdings.”
“What?”
“The legitimate companies stay. Everything else gets dismantled.”
“That won't be easy.”
“No.”
“People will come after you.”
“Probably.”
“You could lose money.”
“I have enough.”
“How much is enough?”
He considered.
“Apparently more than three dollars.”
I smiled.
Then he became serious.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“I don't know yet.”
“No.”
His expression fell.
I almost laughed.
“I mean I'm not becoming another person who simply follows Alessandro Romano.”
He nodded slowly.
“Fair.”
“I have my own life.”
“I know.”
“My mother.”
“I know.”
“Rosie’s.”
“I know.”
“And if this becomes something…”
I gestured between us.
“It happens because we choose each other. Not because you hired me, protected me, or paid for something.”
He set down his coffee.
“Then quit.”
“What?”
“Quit working for me.”
I blinked.
“You're firing me?”
“No. You're terrible at following orders. I'm protecting company productivity.”
I laughed.
He stood.
Then held out his hand.
“Claire Bennett, would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes.”
“You could have started with that.”
“I've had a complicated month.”
I considered dramatically.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Rosie’s.”
He stared.
“You're joking.”
“No.”
“I own restaurants.”
“Congratulations.”
“Actual restaurants.”
“Rosie’s is an actual restaurant.”
“Rosie serves meatloaf on Tuesdays.”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head.
“Seven?”
“Eight. I work until seven-thirty.”
“You just quit.”
“From Romano Holdings.”
I smiled.
“Rosa still owns me.”
That evening, Alessandro Romano arrived at Rosie’s at exactly eight.
No guards inside.
No special table.
He waited by the door because booth seven was occupied.
I made him wait twelve minutes.
Possibly on purpose.
Our first date ended at midnight.
Our second happened three nights later.
By the sixth, Dana had started a betting pool.
My mother improved enough to return home.
Elena moved to Chicago.
Victor retired for approximately six days before announcing retirement was “stupid.”
For the first time, life began to feel ordinary.
Then one morning, I opened Rosie’s and found Alessandro sitting at booth seven.
A small box rested on the table.
My heart stopped.
“Absolutely not.”
He frowned.
“You haven't seen what's inside.”
“If that's a ring, absolutely not.”
“It isn't.”
I approached cautiously.
He opened the box.
Inside was a brass key.
Old.
Familiar.
Locker 317.
“I thought the FBI had this.”
“They returned it.”
“Why are you giving it to me?”
“Because there's something else in the locker.”
“What?”
Alessandro looked at me.
May you like
And smiled.
“Something your father left for both of us.”
