Chapter 10 - Table TwelveThe night before the board meeting, Olivia returned to Belladonna.
The restaurant was closed.
Peter had resigned after turning over everything he knew to the FBI.
Olivia did not forgive him.
Not yet.
She stood beside table twelve.
The same place where the story had begun.
Orion sat beside her.
Dante approached through the empty dining room.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You say that everywhere.”
“I’m consistent.”
She touched the back of the chair.
“This table changed my life.”
“My dog changed your life.”
“Your dog has better instincts than you.”
“That is becoming obvious.”
Olivia smiled.
Then her expression sobered.
“Did you ever think about leaving?”
“The family?”
“All of it.”
Dante looked around the restaurant.
“My father built half of this.”
“The legitimate part.”
“Yes.”
“And the rest?”
“I inherited.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He understood.
“Leaving would have meant weakness.”
“To whom?”
“Everyone.”
Olivia shook her head.
“That’s such a sad answer.”
“It kept me alive.”
“And alone.”
He looked at her.
“You do enjoy that argument.”
“Because you keep proving it.”
Dante stepped closer.
“If tomorrow goes wrong—”
“No.”
“Listen.”
She crossed her arms.
“Fine.”
“If Carlo loses control of the company, he will lose money, access and protection. He’ll become dangerous.”
“He already is.”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I want you with federal protection until this is finished.”
“You don’t get to order me.”
“I know.”
Olivia studied him.
That was new.
“What happens to you?”
“I testify.”
Her breath caught.
“Against Carlo?”
“And others.”
“That exposes you.”
“Yes.”
“To prosecution.”
“Yes.”
She looked away.
“You decided.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“The night you told me to stop solving everything like a crime boss.”
Olivia laughed softly.
“That actually worked?”
“Unfortunately.”
She looked at him again.
“What are you going to tell them?”
“The truth.”
“All of it?”
Dante’s silence answered.
Olivia’s throat tightened.
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Years?”
“Possibly.”
She hated the emotion that hit her.
“You idiot.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“That wasn’t affectionate.”
“I know.”
She walked toward him.
“You wait until now to become decent?”
His expression softened.
“Bad timing.”
“Terrible.”
They were close enough to touch.
Olivia whispered, “I don’t know what this is.”
“Neither do I.”
“That’s probably a bad sign.”
“Probably.”
He lifted one hand, then stopped before touching her face.
Olivia noticed.
“Why did you stop?”
“You haven’t given me permission.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she took his hand and placed it against her cheek.
Dante exhaled.
Their first kiss was quiet.
No violence.
No urgency.
No ownership.
Just two damaged people standing beside table twelve while an enormous black dog watched them with mild disappointment.
When they separated, Olivia whispered, “This changes nothing tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You still testify.”
“Yes.”
“I still vote.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m still angry at you.”
“I would worry if you weren’t.”
A sound came from the kitchen.
Rocco entered.
“Sorry.”
Dante stepped back.
“What?”
“We found Dr. Vassallo.”
The physician Matteo had named.
“Where?”
“Connecticut.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wants immunity.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“For what?”
Rocco looked at Olivia.
“For changing Alessandro Moretti’s medication.”
Silence filled the restaurant.
Rocco continued.
“He says Carlo paid him.”
Dante’s eyes became cold.
Olivia recognized that look.
Revenge.
She grabbed his hand.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t become him tomorrow.”
“Olivia—”
“You said you were testifying.”
His jaw worked.
“Yes.”
“Then let the law have him.”
Dante looked toward table twelve.
Toward Orion.
Toward the life his father had built.
Finally he nodded.
The following morning, sixty-three floors above Manhattan, Carlo Moretti entered the Moretti Hospitality boardroom smiling.
Olivia was already seated.
He stopped.
She placed Daniel’s voting-trust document on the table.
May you like
“Good morning, Carlo.”
His smile disappeared.
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