Chapter 7 - The Christmas He Chose Differently
Salvatore DeLuca had spent twelve years protecting one final secret.
Roman's father had not been murdered because Charles Mercer ordered it.
Charles had approved it.
Salvatore had arranged it.
But the person who first demanded Daniel DeLuca disappear was Roman's grandfather.
August DeLuca.
The patriarch whose portrait still hung above the main staircase at DeLuca House.
Dead seven years.
Untouchable by any court.
Not by history.
Roman removed the portrait himself.
Claire found him standing beneath the empty space.
It was January.
The Christmas decorations were gone.
For the first time since she'd known the mansion, DeLuca House looked ordinary.
Almost.
"You could've asked someone to do that," Claire said.
Roman looked at the portrait leaning against the wall.
"I wanted to."
She understood.
Federal investigators had spent three weeks dismantling Northstar.
Charles Mercer had entered custody from his hospital bed.
Salvatore accepted a plea agreement that would keep him imprisoned for the rest of his life.
Vivian faced charges for coercion, identity fraud, conspiracy and her role in Lily's abduction.
She had cooperated.
It wouldn't erase what she'd done.
Claire didn't want it erased.
She also didn't need Vivian destroyed.
That surprised her.
Roman had asked once whether she wanted him to make sure Vivian "never recovered."
Claire knew exactly what he meant.
"No."
Roman had stared at her.
"No?"
"Let the court decide."
"Claire."
"That's the difference between justice and revenge."
Roman hadn't liked it.
He'd respected it.
That mattered more.
Northstar's claim against the Bennett family was formally voided.
Every payment Claire had made was returned with interest under a federal restitution agreement.
But Claire refused Roman's offer to pay anything personally.
"Not one dollar."
"You're stubborn."
"You're just noticing?"
Lily laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee.
Claire used part of the restitution money to move Lily into an independent-access apartment near a rehabilitation program she actually liked.
Then Claire did something Roman hadn't expected.
She quit.
He found the resignation letter on his desk.
"Absolutely not."
Claire stood opposite him.
"You can't reject a resignation."
"I just did."
"That's not how employment works."
"I own the company."
"I don't work for the company."
"Then I own the house."
Claire crossed her arms.
"Do you hear yourself?"
Roman looked at the letter.
"You need a job."
"I have one."
He looked up.
"What?"
Claire smiled.
She had enrolled in a hospitality management program.
With Mrs. Patel and Chef Alvarez quietly helping, she'd also leased a small storefront in Huntington.
A café.
Nothing extravagant.
Twenty tables.
Warm lights.
Real food.
Affordable coffee.
Lily had already designed the menu covers.
Roman stared at her.
"You did all this without telling me."
"Yes."
"I'm offended."
"You'll recover."
"When does it open?"
"March."
"I'll invest."
"No."
"Claire."
"No."
"A loan."
"No."
"Minority ownership."
"Roman."
He sighed.
"Fine."
She smiled.
"You're learning."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Their relationship had lived in an unnamed place since the warehouse.
Not employer and employee.
Not quite friends.
Something warmer.
More dangerous.
Roman had kissed her once.
Or almost.
Three nights after Lily came home, Claire had fallen asleep in the library.
Roman carried a blanket over.
She woke.
They looked at each other.
He touched her face.
Claire leaned toward him.
Then Roman stopped.
"Not yet."
She'd been stunned.
"Why?"
"Because your entire life has been controlled by people with more money and power than you."
His hand dropped.
"I won't become another one."
That was the moment Claire fell in love with him.
Not when he carried her through the snow.
Not when he protected Lily.
Not when he dismantled Northstar.
When he wanted her and chose not to take advantage of the fact that she might need him.
Three months later, Claire's café opened.
Roman arrived twenty minutes early.
Claire stared at his suit.
"You're overdressed."
"I own no casual clothing."
"That's tragic."
"I have jeans."
"You wore them once, didn't you?"
"Twice."
Lily rolled past them.
"Please flirt somewhere customers can't hear you."
Claire turned red.
Roman smiled.
The café succeeded.
Slowly.
Honestly.
There were terrible weeks.
A refrigerator failed.
A pipe burst.
Claire hired the wrong manager.
Roman offered help exactly once each time.
Claire occasionally accepted.
Usually she didn't.
He learned not to take it personally.
Roman changed too.
The DeLuca organization divested from every company connected to Northstar.
Several older associates walked away.
Roman let them.
He created an independent foundation for families trapped by predatory medical debt.
Claire refused to let him name it after her.
He named it after Thomas and Daniel instead.
Bennett-DeLuca Legal Aid.
When Claire saw the sign, she cried.
Roman pretended not to notice until she hugged him.
Then he held her for a very long time.
Vivian was sentenced eighteen months after Christmas.
Before sentencing, she requested permission to write Claire.
Claire almost threw the letter away.
She read it.
Vivian didn't ask forgiveness.
That helped.
She wrote about fear.
About Charles.
About spending her life learning that survival meant becoming useful to powerful people before they decided you were disposable.
Then she wrote:
None of that excuses what I did to you.
Claire folded the letter.
She never answered.
Some doors didn't need dramatic endings.
They simply needed to stay closed.
Two years passed.
Christmas returned to Long Island.
Snow began falling shortly after six.
Claire stood outside DeLuca House and watched flakes settle across the south lawn.
She hadn't been there during a storm since that night.
Roman came outside.
He carried two coats.
"You disappeared."
"I walked twenty feet."
"History suggests that's enough."
Claire smiled.
He draped a coat around her shoulders.
She looked toward the distant carriage house.
"You know what's weird?"
"Many things about you."
She elbowed him.
Roman laughed.
Claire looked toward the snow.
"I remember almost nothing."
"Good."
"I remember falling."
Roman's smile disappeared.
"I remember thinking about Lily."
He said nothing.
"And then I remember waking up."
Roman looked at her.
"You don't remember me finding you?"
"No."
"That's probably good too."
"Why?"
"I wasn't particularly dignified."
Claire smiled.
"You?"
"Shocking."
She slipped her hand into his.
Inside the mansion, Lily was arguing with Chef Alvarez about cinnamon.
Mrs. Patel was laughing.
The Christmas tree glowed through the windows.
But there were no politicians.
No strategic business partners.
No men measuring alliances over wine.
Roman had canceled the old DeLuca Christmas dinner permanently.
Now Christmas was family.
Chosen family counted.
Especially chosen family.
Claire looked at him.
"Vincent told me something."
Roman stiffened.
Vincent had moved again after testifying.
He occasionally wrote.
"What?"
"Your father's last words."
Roman looked away.
Two years earlier, he hadn't been ready.
Maybe he still wasn't.
Claire waited.
She would always wait when he needed it.
Finally Roman asked, "What did he say?"
Claire squeezed his hand.
"He said, 'Tell Roman strength isn't what I taught him. It's what he chooses when I'm gone.'"
Roman closed his eyes.
Snow landed in his dark hair.
For a moment Claire saw the boy beneath the man.
The son beneath the name.
Then he breathed out.
"That sounds like him."
Claire leaned against his shoulder.
They stood quietly.
Roman eventually reached into his pocket.
Claire felt him move.
"No."
He froze.
"What?"
"If that's a ring, put it away."
Roman stared at her.
Claire burst out laughing.
His expression was priceless.
"You cannot possibly know what's in my pocket."
"You've been acting weird for three weeks."
"I always act weird."
"No. You act intimidating. Different thing."
Roman slowly removed his hand.
Empty.
Claire narrowed her eyes.
"Other pocket."
He sighed.
"Claire Bennett."
"Roman DeLuca."
"I had a speech."
"I bet it was terrifyingly organized."
"It was excellent."
"Let's hear it."
"No."
She laughed again.
Roman looked at her, and something in his expression softened.
"Fine."
He reached into his coat.
A small velvet box appeared.
Claire stopped laughing.
Roman didn't kneel.
Not yet.
He simply held it.
"The first night I carried you across this lawn, I thought I was saving your life."
Claire's eyes filled.
"I spent the next two years figuring out you saved mine too."
"Roman—"
"Let me finish. I practiced."
She covered her mouth, laughing through tears.
"I had everything before you," he continued. "At least everything I'd been taught to want. Money. Fear. Obedience. A house full of people who smiled because my last name told them to."
His voice lowered.
"You were the first person who regularly told me no."
"Someone had to."
"Frequently."
"You needed practice."
He smiled.
"Then you walked away when staying would've been easier. You built something that belonged to you. You made me understand that protecting somebody doesn't mean controlling them."
Claire wiped her cheek.
Roman opened the box.
The diamond wasn't enormous.
Claire noticed that immediately.
He could have bought something ridiculous.
He hadn't.
It was elegant.
Simple.
Her.
"Claire Bennett, will you marry me?"
She stared at him.
Roman waited.
Snow gathered on his shoulders.
Claire let five seconds pass.
Then ten.
Roman narrowed his eyes.
"You're enjoying this."
"A little."
"Claire."
"Yes."
His entire body changed.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
He kissed her before she could tease him again.
Warm mansion lights glowed behind them.
Snow fell around them.
Two years earlier, Claire had crossed this lawn frightened, freezing and convinced powerful people controlled the direction of her life.
Tonight she stood in the same snow because she had chosen to.
That difference was everything.
Roman slipped the ring onto her finger.
Claire looked toward the place where he'd found her.
"You know," she said, "there is one thing I still hate."
"What?"
"Bellamy Reserve."
Roman stared at her.
Then laughed.
A real laugh.
Loud enough that Lily opened the front door.
"What happened?"
Claire held up her hand.
Lily screamed.
Mrs. Patel appeared behind her.
Chef Alvarez followed.
Within seconds, everyone was running outside without coats while Claire shouted at them to go back inside.
Roman wrapped his coat around Claire anyway.
She looked up at him.
"Again?"
"Always."
"No."
He raised an eyebrow.
Claire smiled and corrected herself.
"When I ask."
Roman nodded.
"When you ask."
She kissed him.
Behind them, DeLuca House glowed against the winter darkness.
Ahead of them waited a life neither family had arranged.
No debt.
No bargain.
No threat.
No one deciding for them.
Just a choice.
May you like
And this time, Claire Bennett made it herself.
THE END
