Chapter 9 - The Man Behind the Cold Reputation
Sophia did not sleep.
By sunrise, her photograph appeared on every gossip page in Chicago.
Her phone contained ninety-three missed calls.
Three news stations wanted interviews.
A former college roommate she hadn't spoken to in six years texted:
Girl, WHAT is happening?
Sophia turned the phone facedown.
At seven thirty, someone knocked.
Dante.
He carried breakfast.
“You don't eat breakfast.”
“How do you know?”
“You drink coffee and become angry at carbohydrates until eleven.”
Sophia stared.
“You pay disturbing attention.”
“So I've been told.”
He set the bag down.
Sophia remained near the window.
“They're calling my father a criminal.”
“I know.”
“They're saying he stole from your family.”
“He didn't.”
“Nobody knows that.”
“We do.”
She turned.
Dante had changed.
No suit.
Dark sweater.
No public armor.
He looked younger.
More human.
“Why aren't you angry about the video?”
“I am.”
“At me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Dante leaned against the counter.
“Because you kissed a photograph.”
“Of you.”
“I've survived worse offenses.”
A tiny smile escaped her.
He continued.
“I’m angry because someone used your embarrassment as a weapon.”
Sophia sat at the table.
“I knew people could be cruel online. I just didn't expect thousands of strangers to have opinions about my body before breakfast.”
Dante's expression darkened.
“I could remove the posts.”
“How?”
“Lawyers.”
Sophia suspected that was not his first answer.
“No.”
“No?”
“If I hide it, it becomes shameful.”
Dante studied her.
“And if you don't?”
“Then I own it.”
She picked up her phone.
Opened social media.
Typed:
Yes, I kissed the poster. It had been a long day. In my defense, the poster was very handsome and extremely quiet.
Dante read it.
“You're posting that?”
“Yes.”
“Add that it failed to kiss back.”
Sophia stared.
“Absolutely not.”
“Coward.”
She laughed.
Really laughed.
For ten seconds, the fear disappeared.
Then Dante sat opposite her.
“My father terrified people.”
Sophia listened.
“He believed love made leaders weak.”
“That explains some things.”
“He trained me to observe everyone. Trust nobody. Never reveal what matters.”
“And did it work?”
“For business.”
“And for life?”
Dante looked around the empty guest house.
“You tell me.”
The loneliness in that answer hurt more than Sophia expected.
“Why the foundation?”
“My mother.”
Sophia had heard she died when Dante was twenty-one.
“She believed money meant nothing unless it solved something.”
He looked toward the window.
“After she died, my father became worse. Harder. Then, apparently, he began trying to change without telling anyone.”
“Maybe people surprise us.”
Dante looked at her.
“You certainly did.”
Sophia's heartbeat changed.
“How?”
“I thought you were quiet.”
“I am quiet.”
“No. You're observant.”
“Same thing.”
“Not remotely.”
He leaned forward.
“You notice things people don't want noticed.”
She smiled.
“Like what?”
“Like loneliness.”
The room became still.
Dante stood.
Sophia expected him to leave.
Instead, he walked toward her slowly.
His hand touched her cheek.
“You should tell me to stop.”
“Should I?”
“Probably.”
She didn't.
Dante lowered his forehead against hers.
No kiss.
Not yet.
The restraint felt more intimate.
“I don't want you dragged deeper into this because of me.”
Sophia whispered, “Maybe I’m here because of my father.”
“No.”
His eyes remained closed.
“They started threatening you after they saw you with me.”
“Then maybe we stop letting them decide what being with you means.”
Dante opened his eyes.
The doorbell rang.
They separated.
Luca entered moments later.
“Sorry.”
Dante looked distinctly unconvinced.
“What?”
“We found the source of the leaked video.”
Sophia stood.
“Who?”
“Internal security archive.”
Dante's face hardened.
Only five people had access.
Luca named them.
Himself.
Dante.
The head of technology.
Damian Russo.
And Isabella Moretti.
Sophia stared.
“Isabella?”
Dante shook his head immediately.
“No.”
Luca agreed.
“Probably not.”
“Probably?”
“We have access logs.”
He placed a tablet down.
The video had been downloaded using Isabella's credentials at 2:11 a.m.
The night before.
Dante's sister swore she had been asleep.
Her phone had been beside her.
Her password had never been shared.
Someone had cloned her access.
Or someone close enough to Isabella knew how to imitate her.
Sophia suddenly remembered the groom.
Alexander Vale.
Polished.
Charming.
New to the family.
She looked at Dante.
“When did Isabella meet Alexander?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
“When did the recent payments to Rizzo restart?”
Dante understood immediately.
“Thirteen months ago.”
The wedding was tomorrow.
And for the first time, the threat wasn't standing outside the Moretti family.
May you like
It might already be marrying into it.
---
Related Stories
