Chapter 6 - The Man Who Stood Up
Anthony vanished.
For two weeks, the Corso estate remained under heavy security.
But something inside the house changed.
Dominic began physical therapy every morning.
Fay attended every session.
“Again,” she said.
Dominic gripped the parallel bars.
“I hate that word.”
“Again.”
“I could fire you.”
“You've been saying that for seventeen days.”
He pulled himself upward.
His right leg trembled.
“Weight forward,” Fay said.
“I know.”
“Then do it.”
Dominic glared.
The therapist laughed.
“I should hire her.”
Dominic immediately answered.
“No.”
Fay raised an eyebrow.
“No?”
Dominic realized how it sounded.
“I mean she already has a job.”
“Possessive,” Fay said.
“Annoying,” Dominic replied.
“Again.”
He tried.
His right foot moved.
Then his left.
Not normally.
Not strongly.
But enough.
One step.
Fay stopped breathing.
Dominic looked down.
“Again,” he whispered.
Another step.
His arms shook violently.
Fay stood in front of him.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“One more.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“Fay—”
“One.”
Dominic moved his foot.
His knee nearly collapsed.
He caught himself.
Then he was standing directly in front of her.
Supported by the bars.
But standing.
Fay smiled.
Dominic stared at her.
“What?”
“You're taller than I expected.”
He laughed.
From the doorway came applause.
Dominic turned.
Mrs. Gable, Carmine, Vincent, the cook, and half the staff were watching.
Dominic immediately scowled.
“Does nobody work in this house?”
Mrs. Gable wiped one eye.
“Apparently not.”
That afternoon, Carmine found Anthony.
He had been hiding in a motel outside Albany, attempting to arrange passage out of the country.
Vincent wanted to handle it himself.
Dominic refused.
“No.”
“He tried to kill you.”
“And he'll answer for it.”
“To whom?”
“The authorities.”
Vincent stared at his brother.
“Six months ago, you wouldn't have said that.”
“Six months ago, I was a different man.”
Vincent looked toward Fay, standing across the room.
“Yeah.”
Dominic noticed.
“Don't.”
Vincent smiled.
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
Fay laughed.
Hours later, Carmine confirmed Anthony had been taken into custody with financial records and evidence tying him to the tampering of Dominic’s vehicle.
For the first time in six months, the threat was over.
That evening, Fay found an envelope on her bedroom dresser.
Inside was a lease.
She marched directly into Dominic's study.
“What is this?”
He looked innocent.
It was unconvincing.
“A lease.”
“I know what a lease looks like.”
“Then why ask?”
“Dominic.”
He sighed.
“The guesthouse.”
“I am not taking your guesthouse.”
“You aren't taking it.”
He pointed toward the document.
“Read.”
She did.
Monthly rent: one dollar.
Fay stared at him.
“One dollar?”
“Utilities included.”
“No.”
“Fine. Two.”
She almost smiled.
“I told you I don't want charity.”
“It isn't.”
“What do you call this?”
“Employee housing.”
“Mrs. Gable doesn't live there.”
“Mrs. Gable owns three houses.”
Fay blinked.
Mrs. Gable had never mentioned that.
Dominic continued.
“You need somewhere to live. I have an empty house. You pay rent.”
“One dollar.”
“I'm a terrible landlord.”
“You're impossible.”
“Sign it.”
“No.”
“Fay.”
“Dominic.”
They stared at each other.
Finally he sighed.
“Market rent based on your salary. Fair contract. You can leave whenever you want.”
Fay considered it.
“And you don't get a key.”
Dominic looked offended.
“I own the property.”
“No key.”
“Fine.”
“And no investigating my bank account.”
“Fine.”
“And no ordering me around outside working hours.”
Dominic paused.
“That seems excessive.”
“Dominic.”
“Fine.”
She signed.
He watched her.
“You missed one condition.”
“What?”
“Dinner.”
Fay looked suspicious.
“That's not in the lease.”
“No.”
Dominic rolled closer.
“Dinner with me.”
“I bring you dinner every night.”
“Not as my maid.”
Fay became quiet.
Dominic continued.
“No uniform. No tray. No working.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
He looked almost uncomfortable.
Dominic Corso—the man who could terrify a room without raising his voice—was uncomfortable.
Fay enjoyed that immensely.
“I suppose I am.”
She smiled.
“Ask properly.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You really enjoy making my life difficult.”
“Very much.”
Dominic exhaled.
“Fay Willis, would you have dinner with me?”
She waited just long enough to punish him.
“Yes.”
Then she turned toward the door.
“Seven o'clock.”
“Fay?”
She looked back.
Dominic was holding the edge of his desk.
“What are you doing?”
He locked the wheelchair.
Then slowly pushed himself upward.
His legs trembled.
Fay's smile disappeared.
Dominic stood.
Without the parallel bars.
Only his hand against the desk.
Three seconds.
Four.
Five.
Then he lowered himself back into the chair.
Fay's eyes filled.
Dominic pointed at her.
“Don't.”
She laughed through the tears.
“I'm not doing anything.”
“You're crying.”
“No, I'm not.”
“You're terrible at lying.”
She walked toward him.
Dominic reached for her hand.
May you like
This time neither of them pretended it was about caregiving.
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