Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Curtain
Leo slept for forty-three minutes.
Dante knew because he counted every one of them.
Clare had finished feeding the baby, covered him carefully, and placed him against her shoulder. A quiet burp followed, then a sigh so peaceful that Dante wondered whether he had imagined the previous eighty-seven minutes.
Now Clare sat in the wide leather chair with Leo asleep against her chest.
Maya had curled beside her.
The little girl’s stuffed rabbit rested beside Leo like a tiny guard.
Dante remained across the aisle.
He told himself he was watching his son.
That was only partly true.
He was watching Clare too.
Something about her didn’t fit.
Her clothes were inexpensive but neat. Her sneakers were worn. She carried herself like someone accustomed to hospitals—calm hands, quick observations, no hesitation around a distressed infant.
But every time someone walked through the cabin behind her, she glanced toward the sound.
Every time her phone lit up, she turned it facedown.
And when Maya woke suddenly after a patch of turbulence, Clare wrapped both arms around her daughter before the child even had time to become frightened.
That was not normal vigilance.
That was fear learned through repetition.
Dante knew fear.
He knew what people looked like when they expected danger to arrive.
Marco returned and leaned down.
“May I speak with you?”
Dante followed him toward the galley.
“What?”
Marco kept his voice low.
“I ran her name.”
Dante looked at him.
“You did what?”
“You asked who she was.”
“I asked her.”
“And she gave you a name.”
Marco seemed almost offended that Dante found this unreasonable.
“I checked it.”
Dante glanced toward Clare.
She was whispering something to Maya.
“What did you find?”
“Clare Jensen. Thirty years old. Registered nurse. Ohio license inactive four months ago. Employment at St. Matthew’s Women’s Hospital until February.”
“Anything criminal?”
“No.”
“Then stop investigating her.”
Marco blinked.
That sentence had probably never been spoken in the Salvatore organization.
“Dante.”
“She fed my son.”
“That does not make her safe.”
“No. But it means she gets ten minutes before you build a file on her.”
Marco exhaled.
“There’s more.”
Dante waited.
“She’s married.”
Something in him tightened unexpectedly.
“So?”
“Richard Peterson. Real estate broker. Columbus.”
“Why is that relevant?”
“Because she purchased two tickets less than twelve hours before departure. One-way.”
Dante looked toward Maya.
Marco continued.
“And Peterson filed a police report this morning claiming his wife took their daughter without permission.”
Dante’s eyes cooled.
“A kidnapping report?”
“Not exactly. Police notes say there’s no custody order and both parents have legal rights. But he’s looking for them.”
“Does he know where she is?”
“Unknown.”
Dante considered this.
He could ask Clare.
He should ask Clare.
Instead, he watched the way she brushed hair from Maya’s face.
“She’s afraid of him,” Dante said.
Marco studied him. “You got that from watching her?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe she should tell you that herself.”
Dante looked at his old friend.
“Why would she owe me an explanation?”
Marco gave him a long look.
That question was unlike Dante too.
Before Marco could respond, Leo stirred.
Dante returned immediately.
Clare smiled faintly.
“He’s waking up.”
Dante reached for him.
When Clare transferred Leo into his arms, the baby stayed calm.
That alone felt like a victory.
“Thank you,” Dante said.
Clare seemed surprised.
“You’re welcome.”
Maya leaned around her mother.
“Is he your baby?”
Dante looked down.
“Yes.”
“Where’s his mommy?”
Clare’s hand immediately touched her daughter’s shoulder.
“Maya.”
“What?”
Dante could have avoided the question.
Instead he said, “She died.”
Maya’s eyes widened.
“Oh.”
She thought for a second.
“My grandma died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s in heaven.”
Dante glanced toward Clare.
Clare looked almost apologetic.
“Maya believes heaven has excellent pancakes.”
“It does,” Maya insisted.
Dante’s mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Maya noticed.
“You almost smiled.”
Dante raised an eyebrow.
“I did not.”
“You did.”
Clare covered her mouth.
Marco, standing nearby, suddenly turned away.
Dante looked around.
“Is everyone enjoying this?”
“No,” Marco said too quickly.
For the first time that night, Clare laughed.
It was soft.
Brief.
But Dante heard it.
And something unfamiliar happened inside his chest.
Not desire.
Not yet.
Something quieter.
Relief.
For one moment, the airplane didn’t feel like a moving prison filled with the memory of Alessia.
It felt almost normal.
Then Clare’s phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Her expression changed instantly.
Dante noticed.
She turned the screen away.
“Maya, go sit in our seats for a minute.”
“But—”
“Please.”
The child recognized the tone.
She took Bunny and walked behind the curtain.
Clare opened the message.
Dante could not see the screen.
He did not need to.
The blood had drained from her face.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
It was an obvious lie.
Dante said nothing.
Clare stood.
“I should go back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
Her eyes flicked toward him.
“Because your son is calm.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Clare’s expression tightened.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“It’s an occupational habit.”
“What occupation?”
Marco coughed.
Dante looked at him.
Marco suddenly found another reason to leave.
Clare noticed.
“What exactly do you do?”
“International logistics.”
That was not entirely false.
She stared at his suit.
“International logistics.”
“Yes.”
“With bodyguards?”
“Shipping can be competitive.”
Clare almost smiled again.
But the fear in her eyes remained.
She picked up her bag.
Her phone vibrated once more.
Dante saw the name before she moved it.
Richard.
Clare froze.
Then declined the call.
Dante’s voice became quieter.
“Your husband?”
Her eyes snapped toward him.
“How do you know I have a husband?”
Dante cursed Marco internally.
“Your ring mark.”
Clare looked at her bare finger.
A pale line remained.
She slowly closed her hand.
“Yes.”
“Are you running from him?”
Clare’s shoulders stiffened.
“That isn’t your business.”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Dante continued.
“But if someone is threatening you on my aircraft, I need to know.”
“He isn’t on your aircraft.”
“Are you sure?”
Clare stared at him.
Something about that question landed harder than he intended.
She looked around the cabin.
For the first time, Dante saw exactly how frightened she was.
“My husband doesn’t know I’m here.”
The lie sounded like something she desperately needed to believe.
Dante glanced toward Marco.
Marco’s expression said otherwise.
Clare followed his gaze.
“What?”
Dante hesitated.
Then he made a decision.
“Marco checked your name.”
Her face changed.
“You investigated me?”
“I didn’t order everything he did.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
Clare grabbed her bag.
“I helped your baby. That does not give you permission to dig into my life.”
“You’re right.”
She stopped.
Perhaps she had expected an argument.
Dante rarely admitted anyone else was right.
“I apologize,” he said.
Clare studied him.
Before she could answer, the flight attendant approached.
“Mr. Salvatore, we’ll begin our descent in approximately forty minutes.”
Clare heard the name.
Salvatore.
Something shifted in her expression.
Dante saw recognition.
“You know who I am.”
Clare backed up one step.
She had seen the name on television.
Salvatore Shipping.
Salvatore Development.
Salvatore restaurants, hotels, warehouses.
And rumors.
So many rumors.
Investigations that disappeared.
Witnesses who changed their minds.
A family that newspapers politely described as “controversial.”
“You’re Dante Salvatore.”
“Yes.”
Clare’s face went pale again.
Dante hated it.
Not because she recognized him.
Because she was suddenly afraid of him too.
“I should go.”
“Clare.”
She stopped.
“I will not hurt you.”
Her laugh held no humor.
“You probably understand why that sentence isn’t particularly reassuring.”
Dante accepted that.
She disappeared behind the curtain.
Marco stepped beside him.
“That went well.”
Dante gave him a look.
Marco lifted his hands.
“I’m silent.”
Twenty minutes later, Leo began fussing again.
Not screaming.
Just restless.
Dante tried the bottle.
Leo turned away.
From behind the curtain came Maya’s voice.
“Mommy, the baby’s crying.”
Clare whispered something Dante couldn’t hear.
Several seconds passed.
Then Maya appeared.
She walked directly toward Dante.
Her mother followed reluctantly.
Maya pointed at Leo.
“He wants her.”
Dante looked at Clare.
Clare sighed.
“We don’t know that.”
Leo turned toward her voice.
His body immediately relaxed.
Dante looked down at him.
Then at Clare.
“He appears to disagree.”
Clare shook her head.
“You cannot keep asking random passengers to feed your child.”
“You are no longer random.”
“That is not better.”
Dante almost smiled.
This time she caught it.
“There,” Maya announced triumphantly. “You did it again.”
Clare laughed despite herself.
Dante looked at the little girl.
“You are becoming a problem.”
Maya grinned.
“Mommy says I’m a blessing.”
“Some blessings are loud.”
“You have a baby.”
Dante had no answer to that.
Clare finally held out her arms.
“Give him to me.”
Dante did.
This time, Leo didn’t need to feed. Clare simply held him against her chest, humming softly.
He settled within minutes.
Dante watched.
“You’re good with him.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“Your daughter?”
“And hundreds of newborns.”
“Why did you stop nursing?”
The question was simple.
Clare became still.
“I didn’t stop because I wanted to.”
Dante waited.
She looked toward Maya.
“My husband didn’t like my schedule.”
“That’s why?”
“He didn’t like a lot of things.”
The answer confirmed what Dante had already suspected.
Before he could ask more, the captain’s voice came through the cabin.
They would land in Rome shortly before dawn.
Dante looked toward the window.
Rome.
The city where his family still owned a villa.
The city where Alessia’s parents lived.
The city he had avoided since her funeral.
Clare adjusted Leo’s blanket.
“After we land, we’ll go separate ways.”
Dante looked at her.
“Yes.”
The word felt wrong.
He didn’t understand why.
Clare returned Leo.
Their hands brushed.
She pulled away quickly.
Neither mentioned it.
Forty minutes later, the aircraft touched down at Leonardo da Vinci Airport.
Clare gathered Maya and their two suitcases.
Dante stood with Leo while Marco spoke to ground security.
At the aircraft door, Clare turned.
“Goodbye, Dante.”
He looked at her.
“Goodbye, Clare.”
Maya waved.
“Bye, baby Leo!”
Dante adjusted his son in his arms.
“Goodbye, Maya.”
Clare descended the stairs.
For several seconds, Dante watched her cross the tarmac.
Marco stepped beside him.
“Her husband knows.”
Dante’s eyes moved toward him.
Marco held up his phone.
“How?”
“He contacted the airline after tracing a purchase notification from a joint credit card. He knows the destination.”
Dante looked toward Clare again.
She had no idea.
Marco continued quietly.
“And that isn’t the part you’re going to like.”
“What part?”
“A man matching Richard Peterson’s description landed in Rome ninety minutes ago.”
Dante’s gaze hardened.
Clare reached the terminal doors with Maya.
They disappeared inside.
May you like
And suddenly Dante understood that the woman who had saved his son from eighty-seven minutes of desperate crying was walking toward a danger she believed she had left an ocean behind.
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