Chapter 9 - DANTE’S LAST WAR
Dante turned fifty-two three years after we met.
Rosa organized a dinner.
I teased him about becoming ancient.
“You kissed the oldest man in the ballroom.”
“I was under stress.”
“You've had three years to reconsider.”
“I have poor judgment.”
“Clearly.”
He kissed my forehead.
I smiled.
There was gray at his temples now.
I loved it.
---
Dante had spent those years changing his world.
Slowly.
Not magically.
He sold interests that kept him connected to people he no longer wanted around.
Expanded legitimate businesses.
Established clearer succession plans.
Rosa called it his retirement.
Dante hated that word.
“I am not retiring.”
“You now spend Saturdays buying tomatoes.”
“I own restaurants.”
“You compare tomato prices.”
“Margins matter.”
I laughed.
---
One evening, Dante handed me a folder.
I immediately became suspicious.
“What?”
“Read it.”
Inside were estate documents.
I looked up.
“Dante.”
“Keep reading.”
His property.
Business holdings.
Trusts.
Charitable funds.
Then Isabella and Matteo's names.
A foundation for children who lost parents to violence.
I swallowed.
Then my name.
Not ownership of everything.
Not some fairy-tale transfer of an empire.
Protections.
Choices.
Independent counsel.
Terms designed so I would never be financially trapped if our relationship changed.
“Why?”
Dante answered:
“Because love shouldn't require economic captivity.”
Nolan had taken my money to force me home.
Dante was building documents designed to guarantee I could leave.
That was the moment I knew I wanted to marry him.
Not because he made leaving impossible.
Because he made staying a choice.
---
I proposed.
At dinner.
Dante stared at me.
Rosa dropped a fork.
I placed a simple ring box in front of him.
“Serena.”
“What?”
“You're proposing to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That's generally what people do when they want to get married.”
Rosa started laughing.
Dante ignored her.
“You're serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
He opened the box.
A plain platinum band.
His eyes changed.
“Say something.”
“No.”
My heart stopped.
Then Dante stood.
Walked around the table.
Knelt.
Pulled another ring from his pocket.
I stared.
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“I was going to ask tomorrow.”
Rosa was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes.
“You two are exhausting.”
Dante looked at me.
“So?”
“So what?”
“Will you marry me?”
“I asked first.”
“Serena.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Not the tiny almost-smile he gave everyone else.
A real one.
May you like
And suddenly the most feared man from that ballroom looked nothing like a mafia boss.
He looked like a man who had finally allowed himself to believe he could have a future.
