Chapter 17 - Rain on Lake Shore Drive
Three days later, Chicago rained again.
Not the violent storm from the night Bee confessed.
This rain was steady and quiet, turning Lake Shore Drive into a ribbon of reflected headlights beside dark water.
Dominic drove because he said he needed to think.
Bee sat in the passenger seat because she said someone needed to make sure his thinking obeyed traffic laws.
Neither had a destination.
That was new.
For the previous week, every drive had been toward a witness, a warehouse, a meeting, a safe place, a threat.
Now they simply moved north with the city on one side and Lake Michigan on the other.
Lorenzo remained in the legal system, represented by attorneys who denied several allegations and challenged the interpretation of the old agreements. Adrian was cooperating through counsel. Victor had given a formal statement and resigned from every Rossi-related board and trust. Celia had entered a witness-protection arrangement coordinated by investigators for the duration of the case.
Nothing was finished legally.
But the emergency was over.
Bee looked out at the lake.
“What happens to Victor?”
Dominic kept his eyes on the road.
“That depends on investigators.”
“I mean with you.”
“I know what you meant.”
She waited.
Dominic took a long breath.
“He called this morning.”
“Did you answer?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He asked if I’d read Dad’s letter again.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Rain moved across the windshield.
Bee said, “Are you going to forgive him?”
Dominic was quiet long enough that she thought he would not answer.
“I don’t know what forgiveness means yet.”
“That’s fair.”
“I know I don’t want revenge.”
Bee turned toward him.
Dominic continued.
“I wanted it for about an hour.”
“Only an hour?”
“Maybe two.”
“That’s personal growth.”
He smiled slightly.
Then the smile faded.
“I keep thinking about my father writing that letter and hiding it instead of talking to me.”
“You were young.”
“I was an adult when he died.”
“Some fathers still see twelve when their sons are thirty.”
Dominic looked at her briefly.
“That sounded personal.”
“My father still asks whether I’ve checked the oil every time I drive more than fifty miles.”
“You have a father?”
Bee stared at him.
“What did you think, I was assembled by an accounting firm?”
Dominic laughed.
“I realized I know almost nothing about your family.”
“You hired me to review freight contracts.”
“I knew your résumé.”
“Dangerously intimate.”
“I’m serious.”
Bee looked back at the lake.
“My parents live in Ohio. My mother teaches middle school. My father repairs elevators.”
“Siblings?”
“One brother. Married. Two daughters. They think my job is corporate risk analysis.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not technically false.”
“That sentence has done a lot of work for me.”
He nodded.
“Do they know what happened?”
“My mother saw the press conference.”
Dominic winced.
“How bad?”
“She called seventeen times.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She likes you now.”
Dominic glanced over.
“What?”
“She said, and I quote, ‘At least that handsome idiot admitted he was wrong on television.’”
Dominic stared at the road.
“Handsome idiot?”
“Her words.”
“Interesting emphasis.”
“Do not become unbearable.”
“Too late.”
They drove another mile in comfortable silence.
Bee realized that she had never been alone with Dominic without work sitting between them.
Even dinners had been meetings. Even late-night coffee had happened over reports.
Without crisis, she became aware of details she had trained herself not to notice.
His left hand rested lightly on the wheel.
The small scar near his thumb.
The way he tapped once against the steering wheel when deciding whether to say something difficult.
He tapped now.
Bee waited.
“I went to see Lorenzo today.”
Her head turned sharply.
“You what?”
“With attorneys present.”
“Why?”
“I needed to hear something from him.”
“What?”
Dominic slowed behind traffic.
“Whether he ever believed you betrayed me.”
Bee went still.
“And?”
“He said no.”
The answer hurt strangely.
Dominic continued.
“He said he knew from the beginning you would choose the lie if it kept me alive.”
Bee looked down.
“Then why force it?”
“Because he wanted to know whether I would choose you.”
Rain whispered against the roof.
Bee’s voice was quiet.
“You did.”
“I sent you away.”
“You refused to let him kill me.”
“I believed you betrayed me.”
“And you still refused.”
Dominic tightened his hand on the wheel.
“Lorenzo said that was the moment he knew the old Rossi rules were already dead.”
Bee considered it.
Under the old rules, betrayal demanded punishment.
Under the oath, Dominic could have justified anything.
Instead he chose mercy while believing the worst.
That choice had saved them both.
“What did you say to Lorenzo?” she asked.
“That he confused fear with loyalty for too long.”
“And?”
“That he lost because everyone he used eventually had a reason to tell the truth.”
Bee looked at him.
“That sounds almost philosophical.”
“I’ve had a difficult week.”
Traffic cleared.
Dominic continued north.
After a while, Bee said, “Take the next exit.”
“Why?”
“I’m hungry.”
“There are better restaurants downtown.”
“I don’t want better.”
“What do you want?”
“A diner.”
Dominic looked suspicious.
“Red booths?”
“Yes.”
“Broken jukebox?”
“If possible.”
“Terrible coffee?”
“Required.”
They found one near Uptown.
No cameras waited outside.
No guards watched the door.
Dominic held it open for her.
Bee stopped before entering.
“What?” he asked.
She looked at the rain behind him.
The first time she had walked away from Dominic into rain, she believed she might never see him again.
Now he stood in front of a diner, coat damp at the shoulders, waiting for her to decide whether she wanted coffee.
The ordinary choice felt enormous.
“I’m taking the job,” she said.
Dominic went still.
“Chief risk and compliance?”
“Yes.”
“Independent authority?”
“Yes.”
“Written?”
“Especially written.”
A slow smile appeared.
Bee held up a finger.
“One condition.”
“I knew it.”
“No firing me during armed standoffs.”
Dominic laughed.
“That seems narrow.”
“I’ll add language later.”
He opened the door wider.
“Deal.”
Bee stepped inside.
The waitress pointed toward a red booth.
Dominic followed.
Outside, rain continued across Lake Shore Drive.
But for the first time, neither of them was running through it.
They stayed in the diner for almost two hours.
Dominic ordered eggs even though it was nearly ten at night. Bee ordered pancakes and stole half his toast. Neither mentioned lawyers for the first twenty minutes, which felt like an achievement worthy of formal recognition.
Eventually Dominic asked what she would change first if she took the compliance job.
“Your calendar,” Bee said.
“My calendar is not a compliance issue.”
“It becomes one when every decision requires you personally.”
“I delegate.”
“You delegate tasks. You hoard authority.”
Dominic frowned.
Bee pointed her fork at him.
“That expression is exactly why I need independent authority.”
He leaned back in the red booth.
“What would good delegation look like?”
Bee had expected resistance, not the question. She lowered the fork.
“It would look like a company that still knows what to do if you’re unreachable for twelve hours.”
Dominic thought about the overturned SUV, the dead cameras, the night everything stalled because too many systems waited for him.
“Fair.”
Bee blinked.
“That was disturbingly easy.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“What?”
“Listening before arguing.”
“Don’t overdo it. People will worry.”
The waitress refilled their coffee. Outside, rain blurred the parked cars and softened the city into reflections.
Dominic looked across the table.
“What would you change about yourself?”
Bee stopped with her cup halfway to her mouth.
“That was not part of the interview.”
“I’m curious.”
She considered giving him a joke. Instead she chose the truth.
“I’d stop believing usefulness is the same as belonging.”
Dominic’s expression shifted.
Bee looked at the coffee.
“I stayed late, took every impossible assignment, remembered everyone’s problems, and told myself that if I became indispensable, I could never be pushed outside.”
“The night I fired you proved otherwise.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
She looked at him again.
“But it also proved I was wrong. I survived being outside. People helped me because they cared, not because I was useful to them.”
“Mara?”
“Mara. Celia. Nico, annoyingly.”
Dominic smiled.
“And me?”
Bee held his gaze.
“You’re still under review.”
He laughed.
When they finally left, the rain had become a fine mist. Dominic offered his arm in exaggerated formality. Bee rolled her eyes, then took it anyway.
For once, the future felt less like a route somebody else had designed and more like a street they could choose one turn at a time.
At the curb, Dominic paused before opening the car door. He looked back at the diner window, where their empty red booth was already being wiped clean for the next customers. The ordinariness of it struck him. Nothing in the room knew their names. Nobody cared about old families, routes, or power. Bee noticed his expression and asked what he was thinking.
May you like
“That I could get used to places where nobody is impressed by me,” he said.
Bee smiled. “That may be the healthiest thing you’ve said all week.”
