Chapter 4 - DANTE ROSSI
Dante entered an hour later carrying coffee.
He was thirty-eight, two years younger than Lorenzo, with the same dark eyes and controlled movements.
But where Lorenzo frightened people by being quiet, Dante made them comfortable.
He smiled.
He remembered names.
He tipped servants generously.
He hugged men before ordering them to handle unpleasant business.
When he saw Hunter holding Leo, his smile disappeared for half a second.
Then it returned.
“So this is the miracle worker.”
Hunter stiffened.
Lorenzo watched his cousin carefully.
“Hunter Higgins.”
Dante placed the coffee down.
“I heard what happened.”
“Everyone did.”
Dante approached the crib.
“Can I?”
Hunter looked at Lorenzo.
Lorenzo nodded.
She allowed Dante to touch one finger to Leo’s tiny hand.
Leo did not respond.
Dante smiled sadly.
“You gave us a scare, little man.”
Something about the words disturbed Hunter.
Not what he said.
How rehearsed they sounded.
Dante turned to her.
“My cousin owes you.”
“He doesn’t owe me anything.”
Dante laughed softly.
“You don’t know Lorenzo.”
“I’m learning.”
Lorenzo gave her a look.
Hunter ignored it.
Dante poured himself coffee.
“I heard the gates are locked.”
“They are.”
“Am I a suspect?”
Lorenzo's expression revealed nothing.
“Everyone is.”
“Including family?”
“Especially family.”
Dante nodded slowly.
“Good.”
He took a sip.
“If someone touched Leo, I want them found.”
Hunter watched his hands.
No black ring.
She looked again.
His left pinky was bare.
Dante noticed.
“Looking for something?”
Hunter met his eyes.
“No.”
Dante smiled.
But his eyes did not.
Later that afternoon, Hunter found Lorenzo in the private chapel.
She had gone there searching for quiet while Leo slept under Halloran’s supervision.
Sophia’s photograph stood beside a vase of white roses.
Hunter stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
Lorenzo did not turn.
“For what?”
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“You’re allowed in this room.”
“That’s generous.”
He looked over.
“You still think I’m going to shoot you?”
“You did point a gun at me.”
“I lowered it.”
“A beautiful foundation for friendship.”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
Hunter sat three pews away.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Lorenzo said something she did not expect.
“Sophia would have liked you.”
Hunter looked toward the photograph.
“She was beautiful.”
“She was stubborn.”
“So you liked stubborn women.”
“I married one.”
Hunter looked away quickly.
Lorenzo continued.
“She hated this house.”
“Why?”
“Too many guards.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“She wanted Leo raised somewhere normal.”
Lorenzo looked at his hands.
“A yard.”
“A dog.”
“A school where the other parents didn't know my name.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That normal wasn’t available to us.”
Hunter studied him.
“Maybe she was asking you to make it available.”
The words landed harder than she intended.
Lorenzo looked up.
Hunter braced for anger.
Instead he nodded.
“Maybe.”
His phone vibrated.
He answered.
Nico spoke for less than ten seconds.
Lorenzo stood.
“They found Tommy.”
Hunter's stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Queens.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No.”
“Did your men hurt him?”
“No.”
Hunter stared.
“You answered too quickly.”
Lorenzo slipped the phone into his pocket.
“They haven't touched him.”
“Yet.”
“That depends on how stupid he is.”
Hunter followed him from the chapel.
“Lorenzo.”
He stopped.
It was the first time she had used his first name.
Both noticed.
“Do not hurt him because of me.”
“He shoved you down stairs while you were carrying his child.”
Hunter's face tightened.
“Yes.”
“You lost your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And you still want me to protect him?”
“No.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“I want you not to become him.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
No one had spoken to him like that in years.
Hunter walked past him.
Behind her, Lorenzo remained motionless.
That evening, Tommy was brought to the estate.
He looked thinner than Hunter remembered.
His blond hair was greasy.
A bruise darkened one cheek.
His arrogance had vanished.
When he saw Hunter across Lorenzo’s study, his knees nearly gave out.
“Hunt.”
She hated the nickname immediately.
“Don’t call me that.”
Tommy looked toward Lorenzo.
“Man, I don’t know anything.”
Lorenzo sat behind his desk.
“You haven’t been asked anything.”
Tommy swallowed.
Hunter noticed his shaking hands.
“Who took the picture?”
Tommy looked at her.
“What picture?”
“The one outside my building.”
Confusion crossed his face.
“I haven’t been back there since—”
He stopped.
“Since you killed our daughter?”
Hunter’s voice cracked.
Tommy looked at the floor.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t.”
Silence.
Lorenzo leaned forward.
“Someone paid your debts yesterday.”
Tommy's head snapped up.
Hunter froze.
Lorenzo continued.
“Eighty-six thousand dollars.”
Tommy stared.
“That wasn’t—”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name.”
Lorenzo's voice hardened.
“Wrong answer.”
“I swear.”
Tommy's panic rose.
“He wore gloves.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall.”
“Age?”
“Maybe forties.”
“Voice?”
“American.”
Lorenzo's expression did not change.
Tommy looked desperately at Hunter.
“He said I only had to deliver something.”
Hunter went cold.
“What?”
Tommy reached slowly into his jacket.
Nico immediately drew his weapon.
Tommy froze.
“Easy.”
He removed a small brass key.
Hunter stared.
“I was supposed to give this to her.”
“Why?”
“He said she’d know what it opened.”
Hunter took the key.
She had never seen it before.
A tiny engraving covered one side.
Two letters.
May you like
S.R.
Sophia Rossi.
