Chapter 14 - WHY DANTE REALLY PROPOSED
We did not discuss Marco’s accusation in the warehouse.
We waited until home.
No guards.
No attorneys.
No family.
Just us.
I stood near the windows overlooking Chicago.
“Why did you propose after seven months?”
Dante poured whiskey.
Didn’t drink it.
“Because I loved you.”
“That is not the whole answer.”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“Tell me.”
He set the glass down.
“Three weeks before I proposed, Daniel finished a background investigation.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So we both investigated each other.”
“Yes.”
“What did you learn?”
“Not Geneva.”
I frowned.
“Your records were too clean.”
“Laurent Voss helped.”
“I know that now.”
He continued.
“But Daniel found references to a Sophia Bennett in European arbitration archives. Same education. Same age. Same languages.”
“You suspected.”
“I suspected you had been involved in something dangerous.”
“And?”
“I thought whoever you were running from might eventually find you.”
My anger sharpened.
“So you married me to put me under Moretti protection.”
“Partly.”
I stared at him.
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Instead, you decided for me.”
“Yes.”
There was no defense in his voice.
That somehow made it harder to stay furious.
“Why else?”
Dante walked closer.
“Because I had never met anyone who spoke to me like I was simply a man.”
I almost laughed.
“You hated that.”
“At first.”
“You threatened to leave our first dinner.”
“You told the waiter my wine choice demonstrated insecurity.”
“It did.”
“It was a Barolo.”
“It was showing off.”
He smiled.
Then grew serious.
“I married you because I loved you.”
His eyes held mine.
“But I also told myself marriage would make it easier to protect you.”
“Control me.”
“Yes.”
That admission mattered.
“And then, somewhere along the way, protecting you became making decisions about what you should know, where you should stand, when you should speak.”
He looked ashamed.
“Bellacorte was the ugliest version of that.”
I moved closer.
“I kept secrets too.”
“I know.”
“I decided you couldn’t handle my past.”
“You weren’t entirely wrong.”
“Dante.”
He smiled faintly.
Then I took his hand.
“I don’t want another marriage where we protect each other with omissions.”
“Neither do I.”
“No secret investigations.”
“Agreed.”
“No background checks without permission.”
He hesitated.
“Dante.”
“Agreed.”
“No telling me to stop being the smartest person in the room.”
“That one was unforgivable.”
“Correct.”
He pulled me gently closer.
“Do I get a rule?”
“One.”
“If someone threatens your life, you tell me before marrying me.”
I laughed.
“Fair.”
We kissed.
Not because everything was fixed.
Because for the first time, everything was visible.
Months passed.
Marco’s network collapsed.
Lucia accepted a plea arrangement tied to financial crimes and gave investigators everything she knew.
Moretti Maritime survived.
Smaller.
Legal.
Profitable.
Mine to chair, not Dante’s to command.
And our marriage changed with it.
Then, one year after Bellacorte, Vittorio invited us to another private dinner.
Same restaurant.
Same river.
Lorenzo raised his glass.
This time, in English.
“To Mrs. Moretti.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“To the woman who cost us three months of negotiations, four lawyers, and approximately six million dollars in compliance upgrades.”
Dante smiled.
“Worth every cent.”
Then Vittorio placed a new agreement in front of me.
“Chairwoman Moretti.”
I looked at Dante.
He leaned back.
Hands off.
No warning.
No request for silence.
Vittorio smiled.
“Would you lead the negotiation?”
I opened the contract.
And beneath the first page was a handwritten note from Dante.
BE THE SMARTEST PERSON IN THE ROOM.
I looked at him.
May you like
He winked.
For once, my husband had finally learned exactly who he married.
