Chapter 11 - THE SILK THREAD
Fitting a suit is an intimate process.
You have to stand close. You have to measure the exact width of a shoulder, the precise drop of a waist.
Dante stood perfectly still in the center of the fitting room as I looped the yellow measuring tape around his chest.
He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe I was just hyper-aware of how close my hands were to his heart.
“Thirty-eight chest,” I murmured, writing it down on my notepad.
“You’ve built something beautiful here, Nora,” Dante said, looking around the brightly lit shop.
“We did it together,” I said, stepping behind him to measure the breadth of his back. “My parents are finally happy. No looking over their shoulders.”
I smoothed my hand over his shoulder blade to find the seam line. I felt him take a slightly deeper breath.
“And you?” he asked softly, his gaze meeting mine in the tall three-way mirror. “Are you happy?”
“I am,” I said truthfully.
I grabbed a spool of heavy black silk thread from my cart.
“You know,” Dante said, his voice dropping an octave, “when Arturo ran ten years ago, he didn't just leave a decoy watch. He left a file.”
I stopped threading my needle. “A file?”
“With me.” Dante turned around slowly to face me. “A file on his family. He asked me to keep an eye on you. To make sure you and your mother never starved.”
I stared at him, the silk thread slipping through my fingers. “You’ve known where I was this whole time?”
“I was the one who got you the job at the event agency,” Dante confessed, stepping closer. “I wanted you in safe, well-paying environments. But I promised Arturo I would never interfere directly. Until Sofia forced my hand.”
Anger flashed hot in my chest. “You watched me struggle? You watched my mother get sick?”
“I paid the clinic to move her to the top of the donor list three years ago, Nora.” His eyes were intense, pleading with me to understand. “If I had stepped into your life back then, Lorenzo would have noticed. I had to stay away to keep you alive.”
The anger dissolved, replaced by an overwhelming warmth. He hadn't been a distant mafia boss. He had been a guardian angel, restricted by a promise.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I whispered, looking up at him.
“Because Lorenzo is gone,” Dante said, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair behind my ear. “Because the ledger is burned. And because I don't want to watch from a distance anymore.”
Suddenly, a heavy knock echoed through the shop.
May you like
We both jumped. The shop was closed. The sign was flipped.
I walked to the front window and pulled back the curtain.
