Chapter 6 - The Price of Saving Dominic Vale
Three days later, Victor Sloane was arrested.
Not because Dominic killed him.
Not because Tommy hunted him down.
Because Anthony talked.
And once Anthony started talking, he apparently couldn't stop.
Kidnapping.
Extortion.
Bribery.
Attempted murder.
Enough evidence existed to keep several prosecutors busy for years.
I was sitting in Dominic's kitchen eating cereal when he told me.
“Sloane's finished.”
I lowered my spoon.
“Finished how?”
“Federal custody.”
I studied him.
“That's it?”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don't know.”
“You think I throw people into Lake Michigan?”
“Do you?”
Dominic took my cereal box.
“That's an offensive stereotype.”
“You stole my cereal.”
“That's different.”
I snatched it back.
The tension between us had changed.
The danger was disappearing.
Which meant the strange little world created by one poisoned coffee was disappearing too.
“What happens now?” I asked.
“You go home.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
“You don't sound happy.”
“I am.”
“You're terrible at lying.”
“Learned from Tommy.”
Dominic leaned against the counter.
“You can return to Frank's.”
“I was fired.”
“No, you weren't.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Dominic.”
“I bought the diner.”
My spoon hit the bowl.
“You what?”
“Frank wanted to retire.”
“Frank is forty-six.”
“He's retiring early.”
“You cannot buy my workplace!”
“I already did.”
“Why?”
“The coffee is terrible.”
I stared at him.
Then I started laughing.
Dominic watched me.
“What?”
“You're insane.”
“Probably.”
“What are you going to do with a diner?”
“Nothing.”
He slid an envelope across the counter.
I opened it.
Inside were ownership documents.
My name appeared beside a percentage.
I looked up.
“No.”
“You haven't even read it.”
“I don't need to.”
“You saved my life.”
“I spilled coffee.”
“You risked yours.”
“That doesn't mean you buy me a restaurant.”
“Technically, I bought myself a restaurant.”
“Dominic.”
“And gave you half.”
I stared at him.
“Half?”
“You're welcome.”
I pushed the papers back.
“No.”
His expression softened.
“Emma.”
“I don't want payment.”
“Then don't consider it payment.”
“What should I consider it?”
“A partnership.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“You don't know anything about restaurants.”
“I know coffee.”
“You drink it black.”
“Exactly.”
I couldn't help smiling.
Then I noticed the seriousness in his eyes.
“This isn't because you feel guilty?”
“No.”
“Because you owe me?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Dominic paused.
“Because for fifteen years, everyone around me has been afraid to tell me something I don't want to hear.”
He glanced at my wrist.
The bruises were fading.
“You weren't.”
“I was terrified.”
“But you did it anyway.”
He pushed the papers toward me again.
“I need people like that around me.”
I looked down.
Then back at him.
“Fifty-one percent.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“If I run Frank's, I want fifty-one.”
“You're negotiating?”
“Yes.”
“You were refusing thirty seconds ago.”
“Circumstances changed.”
A slow smile appeared.
“Fifty-one.”
“And I choose the staff.”
“Fine.”
“Tommy isn't allowed near the coffee.”
From the hallway came Tommy's offended voice.
“I heard that!”
I smiled.
Dominic extended his hand.
“Partners?”
I looked at it.
Then shook.
“Partners.”
Neither of us let go immediately.
May you like
That part wasn't business.
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