Chapter 9 - THE FIRST DATE SOPHIE WAS NOT ALLOWED TO ATTENDSophie objected to the date.
Strongly.
“Why can't I go?”
Clara zipped her dress.
“Because it’s an adult dinner.”
“I eat adult food.”
“You eat plain noodles.”
“With cheese.”
“Extremely sophisticated.”
Sophie, now five, folded her arms.
“Is Mr. Alessandro going to marry you?”
Clara almost stabbed herself with an earring.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we have not even had one date.”
Sophie considered.
“I already asked him first.”
Clara stared.
“You were three.”
“I remember.”
“You said you were marrying a firefighter last month.”
Sophie’s face changed.
“That was before he said broccoli is good.”
“Understandable.”
Clara’s sister took Sophie for the evening.
Alessandro arrived at the restaurant before Clara.
She had chosen a small Italian place in Evanston.
No private room.
No business connection to Romano Holdings.
She checked.
Twice.
He stood when she approached.
Dark suit.
No tie.
Slightly nervous.
That surprised her.
“You look terrified.”
“I've negotiated with federal prosecutors more comfortably.”
“Good.”
They sat.
The first ten minutes were awful.
Both suddenly aware that for years—or what felt like years—they had known how to speak during emergencies.
Kidnappings.
Investigations.
Grief.
Children demanding marriage.
Normal dinner proved harder.
Clara finally said:
“This is weird.”
“Yes.”
“What do normal people talk about?”
“I have limited data.”
She laughed.
That helped.
They talked.
Alessandro liked blues music.
Clara loved ridiculous reality television.
He had never assembled furniture himself.
She considered that offensive.
He hated olives.
She immediately questioned his Italian ancestry.
For the first time, she learned small things that had nothing to do with his trauma.
That mattered.
Then he asked about Bennett Household Services.
“How many employees?”
“Fourteen.”
“Clients?”
“Twenty-one regular.”
“Profit?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Are you trying to acquire me?”
“No.”
“Then none of your business.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
Clara told him about her plans.
Caregiver placement.
Housekeepers.
Private chefs eventually.
Contracts protecting both families and workers.
Emergency childcare assistance.
Alessandro listened.
No advice until she asked.
That was probably his greatest achievement that evening.
“You have thoughts.”
“Yes.”
“You’re visibly suffering.”
“Yes.”
“Say one.”
“Employer screening should include financial verification.”
Clara paused.
“That’s actually useful.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Write down this date.”
She laughed.
Then the conversation became serious.
“Elena.”
Clara said the name first.
Alessandro looked at her.
“Do you want to talk about her?”
“Yes.”
Clara had worried he might avoid it.
Instead he told her stories.
Elena once bought a goat at a charity auction without asking where it would live.
Elena hated expensive watches.
Elena drove too fast.
Elena once told Rafael he had “the moral instincts of airport carpet.”
Clara laughed.
“She sounds terrifying.”
“She was.”
“You still love her.”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Clara appreciated that.
“Does that bother you?”
he asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
Clara thought.
“Because she’s not competing with me.”
His expression changed.
“And I’m not replacing her.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Alessandro looked down.
“I was worried you'd think—”
“What?”
“That part of me needed to stop loving her before I could love anyone else.”
Clara shook her head.
“Love isn't a waiting room with one chair.”
He smiled.
“That sounds like Elena.”
“Should I be offended?”
“No.”
“Good.”
After dinner, they walked.
No security beside them.
Marco had argued.
Lost.
At Clara’s car, Alessandro stopped.
“I want to kiss you.”
Her heartbeat changed.
“That is much less smooth than in movies.”
“I was informed asking is preferable.”
“It is.”
“So?”
Clara smiled.
“Not tonight.”
Pain crossed his face.
Small.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
Then she added:
“Ask again.”
Hope returned so quickly she almost laughed.
“Next time?”
“Yes.”
“There’s a next time?”
“Maybe.”
“Cruel woman.”
“You survived Rafael.”
“Barely.”
He opened her car door.
Then immediately looked embarrassed.
“Was that too—”
“Opening doors is not patriarchy by itself, Alessandro.”
“Useful clarification.”
Their second date was bowling.
Clara chose deliberately.
Alessandro Romano, feared for decades by men across Chicago, scored seventy-nine.
A nine-year-old in the next lane scored 113.
Clara laughed until she cried.
Alessandro became deeply offended by automated scoring.
Afterward:
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
The kiss was careful.
Warm.
Not a rescue.
No gunfire.
No grief emergency.
Clara placed one hand on his chest.
Alessandro kissed her again.
Then she stepped back.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Don't become arrogant.”
“Too late.”
They dated for a year before Sophie spent an entire weekend with Alessandro present.
Clara moved slowly.
Sophie had already attached to him strongly once.
Children deserved stability before romance became family.
Alessandro never complained.
At least not to Clara.
Marco heard plenty.
The first weekend involved pancakes.
Alessandro could not cook.
Sophie stared at the black disk on her plate.
“What is it?”
“Pancake.”
“No.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Alessandro looked offended.
“I followed instructions.”
“You have destroyed breakfast.”
Sophie poked it.
“Poppy won't eat that.”
“Poppy is fabric.”
“She still has standards.”
Clara laughed so hard she had to sit down.
Alessandro looked at both of them.
The kitchen was loud.
Messy.
Syrup on the counter.
One sock under the table for reasons nobody understood.
Seven years earlier, that kind of disorder would have made him leave.
Now he wanted more.
That realization frightened him.
He told his therapist.
Good.
Two years after prison, Alessandro received an offer to become executive chair of the legitimate Romano real-estate division.
He considered refusing.
Clara asked:
“Why?”
“Because of what the name means.”
“Does refusing change what you did?”
“No.”
“Would accepting make you criminal again?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
He smiled.
“My line.”
“Useful.”
“I want to rebuild the company.”
“Then do it.”
He accepted under independent compliance supervision.
No cash subsidiaries.
No invisible shipping interests.
No family exceptions.
His employees learned that Alessandro remained demanding.
But fear was no longer a performance requirement.
One afternoon a young analyst told him directly:
“Your plan is wrong.”
The room froze.
Alessandro asked:
“Why?”
The analyst explained.
He was right.
Nobody died.
Marco later called it revolutionary corporate governance.
Clara’s business grew too.
Thirty employees.
Then forty-five.
She hired an HR manager before Alessandro could suggest it.
He complained.
She ignored him.
Their lives remained separate enough to be chosen.
That was important.
Then Sophie turned seven.
At her birthday dinner she stared at Alessandro.
“Are you ever marrying Mommy?”
Clara nearly dropped a glass.
“Sophie.”
“What?”
Alessandro looked at Clara.
“Should I answer?”
“No.”
Sophie sighed dramatically.
“Adults make everything slow.”
Later that night, after she slept, Alessandro said:
“She has a point.”
Clara stared.
“Do not use my child as a proposal consultant.”
“I wasn't.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The decision face.”
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
Clara’s heart moved.
May you like
But Alessandro waited another year.
Because wanting forever no longer meant he needed to demand it immediately.
