Chapter 4 - The Wife Who Wanted a Funeral

The safe house sat beside a lake two hours north of Manhattan.
No staff.
No cameras connected to outside networks.
Just Dante, me, and four trusted men.
By sunrise, Marco had verified the footage.
Vanessa and Julian were clearly visible.
But there was more.
Julian had made several calls that evening to one of Dante’s own captains.
Victor Salerno.
Dante stared at the phone records.
“Victor has worked for my family fifteen years.”
Marco nodded.
“He sold you.”
“For what?”
“Vanessa.”
I looked between them.
“You think they’re together too?”
Marco shook his head.
“Money.”
Dante laughed without humor.
“Usually is.”
His phone rang.
Vanessa.
Nobody spoke.
Dante answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice came through speakerphone.
“Dante?”
She sounded breathless.
“My God. Where are you?”
Cara looked at him.
Dante’s expression revealed nothing.
“Why?”
“Your car was found.”
“So?”
“Everyone thinks you’re dead.”
“Do you?”
Silence.
Then Vanessa whispered, “What kind of question is that?”
“The kind husbands ask their wives.”
Dante leaned back.
“I’m coming home.”
The line went dead.
Marco stared at him.
“You’re doing what?”
“Going home.”
“That’s exactly what they want.”
“Yes.”
I stepped forward.
“Then don’t.”
Dante looked at me.
“Vanessa thinks she controls the board.”
“And?”
“I’m going to let her believe it until she shows me every piece.”
Marco understood first.
“You want Victor to expose himself.”
“Exactly.”
I shook my head.
“That sounds extremely dangerous.”
Dante stood.
“Cara.”
“What?”
“I run a criminal empire.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
“Danger is not particularly unusual.”
“It should be.”
He stopped.
For a moment, the mafia boss disappeared.
I saw only the man I had dragged from a wreck.
“You really don’t understand why I followed you, do you?” I asked.
“No.”
“Because someone was going to die.”
“You didn’t know me.”
“I didn’t need to.”
He stared at me.
“You could have died.”
“But you didn’t.”
Something passed between us.
Then Marco cleared his throat.
“I hate to interrupt whatever this is.”
“There is no this,” I said quickly.
Dante raised an eyebrow.
Marco smiled.
“Sure.”
Dante reached for his coat.
I caught his arm.
“Promise me something.”
His gaze dropped to my hand.
“What?”
“Don’t become exactly what Vanessa expects.”
“And what is that?”
“Angry.”
I stepped closer.
“She knows the dangerous Dante Moretti.”
I tapped the memory card on the table.
“Give her the smart one instead.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then Dante smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I had seen.
May you like
“That,” he said, “is exactly what I’m going to do.”
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