Chapter 6 - The Empty Chair Wasn’t Empty Anymore
Three weeks later, Blackwood Manor felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not haunted.
Just—
loud.
Someone had opened the curtains.
Harold the lemon tree now occupied the center of the sunroom.
Two guards argued over football.
Margaret returned for lunch and immediately criticized everyone.
And Nora had installed a new rule.
“No business meetings during dinner.”
Dante stood in the doorway.
“That rule is ridiculous.”
Nora stirred sauce at the stove.
“You survived thirty years in organized crime.”
“Allegedly.”
“You can survive lasagna without a conference call.”
Dante sat.
Nora brought two plates.
Then she stopped.
There were three chairs near the end of the table.
One belonged to Dante.
One belonged to her.
The third—
Luca’s old chair.
Dante noticed.
His expression changed.
Nora hesitated.
“I can move it.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
Dante slowly touched the chair.
For nine years, nobody had sat in it.
Tonight, it didn’t feel like a tombstone.
He looked at Nora.
“Sit there.”
Her eyes widened.
“Dante…”
“Sit.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
She smiled softly.
“Fair enough.”
She sat.
They ate.
Halfway through dinner, Nora said, “I’m leaving next week.”
Dante stopped chewing.
“What?”
“My contract with Margaret was temporary.”
“No.”
Nora raised an eyebrow.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“The king issuing decrees.”
“You work here.”
“Technically, for seven more days.”
“Extend it.”
“I might not want to.”
Dante put down his fork.
Nora watched him struggle.
It was almost entertaining.
“What?” she asked.
“You cannot leave.”
“That is not a reason.”
He stared at her.
Nora waited.
Dante sighed.
“I don’t want you to.”
She stopped smiling.
Dante continued.
“This house was dead before you came here.”
“Dante—”
“I was dead.”
Her expression changed.
He looked toward Luca’s chair.
“I thought remembering him meant staying miserable.”
Nora said quietly, “It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“You taught me that.”
Nora swallowed.
Dante reached across the table.
Not commanding.
Not threatening.
Just offering his hand.
She took it.
“You’re asking me to stay?”
“Yes.”
“As your house manager?”
Dante hesitated.
Nora smiled.
“Careful.”
“As whatever you want to be.”
Her smile disappeared.
That answer mattered.
Then music drifted in from the hallway.
The same Motown song.
Nora looked toward the door.
Margaret stood there holding the portable radio.
Behind her were half the household staff.
Dante stared.
“Margaret.”
She smiled.
“Finish what you started.”
Nora stood.
Dante remained seated.
She held out her hand.
“Come on.”
“No.”
“Dante.”
“No.”
“You’re scared.”
He looked offended.
“I am not.”
“Then dance.”
Everyone watched.
Dante sighed.
He took her hand.
This time—
nobody dropped a phone.
May you like
Nobody gasped.
Nobody feared the sound of Dante Moretti laughing.
