Chapter 18 - Chicago Finally Saw the Man Sophia Already Knew
Midnight.
The ballroom was empty again.
Sophia removed her heels and carried them in one hand.
Dante loosened his bow tie.
“You've become scandalously informal.”
“I run this building.”
“You run the events.”
“Details.”
He led her toward the poster.
Sophia smiled.
“You really kept it.”
“In storage.”
“Because you’re sentimental.”
“Because Isabella threatened to make copies.”
“Fair.”
They stopped beneath the chandelier.
Six months earlier Sophia had stood there wanting the marble floor to swallow her.
Now that memory felt like another lifetime.
Dante reached behind the poster.
Removed a small wooden box.
Sophia's smile vanished.
“What is that?”
“A box.”
“Brilliant.”
He handed it to her.
Inside was her father's silver watch.
Restored.
Polished.
The hidden compartment remained.
Sophia touched it carefully.
“I thought this was evidence.”
“The court released it.”
Her eyes filled.
Dante continued.
“Your mother thought you should have it.”
Sophia pressed the watch to her chest.
“Thank you.”
“There’s something else.”
“Oh, God.”
“No panic.”
“That has never preceded anything safe with you.”
Dante took her hand.
He did not kneel.
Not yet.
Instead, he walked with her toward the windows.
Chicago spread below.
“I spent years believing my name required me to become one kind of man.”
Sophia listened.
“Then your father left evidence showing mine wanted something different.”
He looked at her.
“And you showed me wanting something different means nothing unless you're willing to choose it.”
Sophia's throat tightened.
“The family businesses are restructuring.”
“I know.”
“In another year, there won't be anything left that depends on fear.”
“Dante—”
“I’m not doing that to become worthy of you.”
Good answer.
“I’m doing it because I finally know what I want my name to mean.”
Sophia smiled.
“And what do you want?”
He looked at the empty ballroom.
“This.”
“A charity gala?”
“No.”
He touched her cheek.
“Something I don't need to hide.”
Sophia leaned into his palm.
The city had begun seeing pieces of the same man.
Not innocent.
Not perfect.
Not magically transformed.
But responsible for his choices.
He had funded neighborhood programs publicly.
Testified against former associates.
Closed businesses that could not survive legitimate oversight.
Some people called him reformed.
Others called him calculating.
Sophia did not care.
She knew the quiet man who hated plastic forks.
The brother terrified of losing Isabella.
The son still trying to understand his father.
The man who sent terrible coffee mugs instead of apologies.
The man who could have forced her to stay and chose not to.
“What?” Dante asked.
“You're doing the staring thing.”
“What staring thing?”
“The one where you pretend you're not emotional.”
“I am not emotional.”
“You kept a poster I kissed.”
“Blackmail material.”
“Sure.”
He kissed her forehead.
Sophia looked down at her father's watch.
“I wish he could see this.”
Dante was silent for a moment.
“I think he'd dislike me.”
Sophia laughed.
“Initially.”
“Comforting.”
“Then he’d interrogate you for three hours.”
“Better.”
“And eventually he'd realize you're terrified of his daughter.”
Dante looked offended.
“I am not terrified of you.”
“Dante.”
“Respectfully cautious.”
“Exactly.”
They laughed.
Then Dante became serious.
“Move in with me.”
Sophia stared.
Again.
But this time his voice was different.
No command.
No expectation.
“Not because I can protect you better.”
Sophia waited.
“Not because the guest house is safer.”
She smiled.
“Continue.”
“Because I want to argue about your books, your coffee and why you apparently own seventeen blankets.”
“They’re decorative.”
“They’re everywhere.”
“Focus.”
Dante inhaled.
“Because when I imagine ordinary, you're there.”
Sophia's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
He blinked.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“That was easier than last time.”
“You asked better.”
He kissed her.
Sophia wrapped her arms around him.
Behind them, the ridiculous poster watched.
Months of fear had turned into something neither had expected.
A future.
But Dante Moretti was not finished asking Sophia Bennett questions.
One year after the night she kissed that poster, he would ask the biggest one yet.
May you like
And this time, half of Chicago would be waiting for her answer.
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