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And most of all, he had pledged to protect her, and to protect Isabella.
He had been protecting her for years.
Picking her up when she scraped her knees. Rescuing her from humiliation on a dance floor.
Oh, yes, there was a lot to love about that man.
The realization made her gasp. Because she could think of nothing lonelier. Nothing sadder than a life spent loving someone passionately, pouring out your desire, your body, to them and getting a hollow facsimile in return.
She would love Isabella. And Isabella would love her back. And Dante would be her father.
He was right... He was right that with him she would have something much better than Carlo. She wasn’t being robbed of anything there.
And Dante could not withhold his heart from his daughter. Whatever he said, Minerva knew that. Isabella was a baby, and babies existed to be loved by those who cared for them. Those who were not violent criminals anyway. Which Dante was not.
Shewas another matter.
But she was always another matter.
And she had Isabella to consider, which meant she would have to remain another matter altogether.
And she would have to find a way to be fine with it.
Three mornings later Dante was informed that Carlo had been killed in a shootout with police. The members of his crime family, including the top boss, had all been taken into custody, as had three members of the police department who were on the payroll.
It was the largest such operation to be completed in years. Dante and his money were largely seen as being responsible.
But all Dante saw was an opportunity to get back to his real life. To get back to the real world.
And it was time.
He was tempted to forget himself here on this island with Minerva. Tempted to get lulled into a sense that life began and ended here. The white sand to the line of the crystal blue ocean.
The longer they were here, away from life, the easier it was to forget who he was. The easier it was to let Min fill his vision and forget that there was reality waiting for them both.
But he had work back in New York, and he had to see to those things. Had to remember who he was.
Minerva was in her room. It was strange to him that she had opted to keep her own bedroom, especially considering she slept in his bed every night. But her things were still in the white room by Isabella’s. And she was holed up in there reading a book. He startled her when he pushed the door open. “Carlo is dead.”
“He is?” She sat up, eyes wide, and there was a kind of glittering triumph in her expression. Then it softened. “You didn’t...”
“I didn’t. It happened when the police tried to take him into custody. There was nothing for it. But either way. You’re safe.”
“Does that mean we’re going home?”
“Yes,” he said. “We’re going home.” She let out a whoop, which surprised him, and leaped across the space, into his arms.
He stood there, unmoving for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around her.
He never knew quite what to do with her.
“I thought you liked it here,” he said.
She separated from him. “I do,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “But...”
“Yes. It’s rather isolated.”
“Yes. It’s just... As beautiful as it’s been, I miss normal life. Isabella deserves normal.”
