Chapter 9 - ROMAN WAITED
Roman waited six months after I left Falcone employment before asking me out.
Apparently he counted.
So did his brothers.
Declan said four months was enough.
Gabriel argued eight because “power dynamics require fermentation.”
Nobody asked him.
Roman called on a Tuesday.
“Dinner Friday.”
I said nothing.
He sighed before I could.
“I know.”
“Good.”
He tried again.
“Maeve, would you have dinner with me Friday?”
“Why?”
“You enjoy this too much.”
“Answer.”
“Because I like you.”
Pause.
“And?”
He exhaled.
“Because the manor has been unbearable since you left.”
“Mrs. Hess still cooks.”
“She refuses potatoes.”
Smart woman.
“Anything else?”
Roman became quiet.
“Because when something happens, you're still the first person I want to tell.”
That worked.
“Seven-thirty.”
Our first date was in Boston.
Small restaurant.
No private dining room.
No Falcone ownership.
I checked.
Roman pretended offense.
We talked about Eleanor.
Lucia.
Vittorio.
Not all night.
The dead deserved memory, not permanent seats at every table.
Roman asked about Nora.
Better.
I asked what Declan was doing.
“Therapy.”
I almost choked.
“Voluntarily?”
“Mrs. Hess threatened him.”
Reasonable.
Gabriel had started working with an actual compliance team instead of investigating strangers for entertainment.
Roman had moved Falcone Holdings toward legitimate shipping, commercial property and logistics.
Not clean overnight.
Not saintly.
But moving.
At the end of dinner he walked me toward my car.
“Maeve.”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
I smiled.
“Look at you asking.”
“I've had expensive retraining.”
“Yes.”
The kiss was quiet.
May you like
For once, Falcone drama waited somewhere else.
I liked that.
