Chapter 6 - Three Jobs
Two weeks later, Emma tried returning to work.
I found her polishing the dining table.
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t look up.
“Brain surgery.”
“Emma.”
“Cleaning.”
“You’re still recovering.”
“My doctor cleared me.”
“My doctor?”
“Yes.”
“He works for me.”
“He’s still a doctor.”
I took the cloth from her hand.
“You’re not cleaning.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“I work here.”
“Not anymore.”
She went still.
“What?”
The hurt in her expression surprised me.
“You’re firing me?”
“No.”
“That sounded exactly like firing.”
“You don’t need three jobs anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Dominic.”
“Your mother’s hospital debt disappeared.”
Her mouth fell open.
“WHAT?”
“Danny’s rehabilitation is covered.”
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“And my rent?”
I remained silent.
Her eyes widened.
“You paid my rent?”
“For twelve months.”
She slapped the cloth against my chest.
“I cannot believe you.”
“I expected more gratitude.”
“You’re getting murdered with a feather duster.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She stormed toward the door.
“Emma.”
She turned.
“I don’t want to owe you.”
“You don’t.”
“Then why?”
Because the thought of her sleeping on trains between shifts bothered me.
Because I had spent fourteen months watching someone carry an impossible weight while pretending not to see.
Because somewhere between finding her broken beneath my family crest and hearing her challenge Victor, she had become important to me.
Instead I said, “Because I can.”
“Terrible answer.”
“I know.”
She walked closer.
“Try again.”
I looked at her.
“Because you matter.”
That stopped her.
“To Danny?”
“Yes.”
“To Lucia?”
“Yes.”
“To Marco?”
“Unfortunately.”
From the hallway Marco shouted, “I heard that.”
Emma laughed.
Then she looked at me.
“And to you?”
I said nothing.
She stepped closer.
“Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much do I matter?”
I lowered my voice.
“Enough that it scares me.”
Her expression softened.
“Good answer.”
She kissed my cheek.
Then walked away.
I stood frozen.
Marco appeared.
“Boss.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to ask whether the terrifying Dominic Castellano just turned red.”
“Leave.”
Marco grinned.
“Yes, boss.”
That evening, Lucia found Emma in the kitchen.
“You kissed him?”
“On the cheek.”
Lucia nearly dropped her wine.
“He probably thinks you’re engaged now.”
Emma laughed.
“He’s not that bad.”
“My brother once interpreted someone borrowing his Bentley as an act of war.”
“That explains a lot.”
Lucia’s expression became serious.
“He likes you.”
Emma looked down.
“I know.”
“Do you like him?”
“That’s complicated.”
“Everything with Dominic is complicated.”
Emma looked toward the doorway.
I was standing there.
Lucia smiled.
“I suddenly need to be anywhere else.”
She left.
Emma folded her arms.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“Of course.”
I stepped closer.
“I want to take you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“Dinner.”
“You own a dining room.”
“Outside.”
“You own restaurants.”
“One I don’t own.”
She studied me suspiciously.
“Is this a date?”
“Yes.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You’re asking?”
“I’m trying something new.”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll ask again next week.”
“And if I keep saying no?”
“Then Marco says I’m supposed to respect your boundaries.”
“Marco told you that?”
“He watches television.”
Emma laughed.
Then she held out her hand.
“One dinner.”
I took it.
“One dinner.”
She pointed at me.
“And no bodyguards at the table.”
“Impossible.”
“Dominic.”
“Across the restaurant.”
“Fine.”
“No armored convoy?”
“Two cars.”
“One.”
“Two.”
“One.”
I sighed.
“One.”
She smiled.
“Look at you compromising.”
I looked down at her hand in mine.
It felt strangely easy.
May you like
“Don’t get used to it.”
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