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I’d felt her presence long before I’d walked into the restaurant.
I’d sensed her being, the woman who’d changed my life even though I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
She was the reason I’d softened or that I could better interact with my family, even showing love.
“You’re sure you don’t want to take her tonight?” Cayman asked as we walked toward Dominick’s church. The moon was bright in the sky, illuminating the golden lights surrounding the courtyard. I stood staring at the front double doors, remembering the last time I’d been here. It hadn’t been by my choice, two of my men lying in blood on the front concrete steps. Dominick had been required to help me clean up the mess.
It was another secret the two of us kept together.
She’d been taken to a brownstone almost directly across the street from Dominick’s church, my two soldiers remaining watching both the front and the back of the expensive home until our arrival. By then, she’d already made her way inside, maybe hoping for answers.
“No. My guess is that she doesn’t want to see me. She’s terrified.” I remained conflicted, which surprised me. I wasn’t usually hesitant about making a decision of this kind but with so many pieces on the table, Max’s advice of finding out how far the Bianchis’ reach went was absolutely necessary.
“Of you or what Dante will do?”
I slowly turned my head. “She doesn’t know me, Cay. Not really anyway. For all she knew, I was a businessman, even if she guessed my occupation. I think seeing me in the same room as the man she can’t stand has her questioning everything, including the time we spent together. And sadly, things didn’t end well because I chose not to tell her the truth of why I was concerned.”
“Ah.”
The single word was defining. I’d been a stupid, arrogant ass.
There’d always been something reverent about standing in front of a Catholic church. I was a sinner. That no one could argue. I remembered my father’s attempts at following through with what I’d been told was my mother’s strong beliefs, although his lack of faith had prevented her guilt-riddled son from buying good versus evil for a split second.
I’d never forget the single time my father had been arrested. The crime he’d been accused of committing was heinous and brutal, something I knew he’d been guilty of as I’d watched him carry out the savage murder. Of course the charge didn’t stick, my father going free within hours. While he’d attempted to block his children from the carnage carnival of the press, I’d snuck out of the house, stealing one of my father’s cars and observing in amusement the circus my father had talked about.
There’d been press everywhere, people holding up signs touting that my father was the devil reincarnated.
The family’s attorney, the former treacherous Consigliere, a pompous, greedy bastard, had acted as if he was giving an Academy Award-winning speech. He’d encountered boos from every side, tomatoes thrown at both men while being told they’d burn in hell.
The chaotic scene was one I’d never forget. Shortly thereafter, my father had walked into this very church of his own accord, asking for atonement after confessing his sins.
It was interesting that the former priest had been disavowed shortly thereafter, which had eventually led to Dominick obtaining the parish location so quickly.
As soon as Cayman and I walked inside, I took a deep breath, half expecting to burst into flames. The quiet calm of the moment offered sweet peace, which was an unexpected and pleasant surprise.
Almost immediately, Cayman dropped to one knee, giving the sign of the cross.
I thought better of it, doing my best not to push my luck. After he kissed the small gold cross he always wore around his neck, he stood. Then he immediately swept the massive facility with his always observant eye. The moment he unbuttoned his jacket to allow for access to his weapon, I pushed the back of my hand against his stomach, shaking my head.
“Force of habit,” he said.
“A good one but not necessary. You’re certain Christiana is here?” I’d done a basic google search on the ride over. While quick, it had provided me with the information I needed.
Christiana Lorenzo, daughter of a rather notorious Chicago Don. The only child, her mother murdered years before. No wonder she and I connected so easily. If I had to guess, I’d say on the night we’d met, her father had tried to sell her off to another high bidder.
And I’d interfered.
I’d soiled her.
Should I feel guilty? Maybe. But I didn’t. Instead, it was just another tether of ownership.
He scanned the area, nodding after doing so. It was obvious he hadn’t noticed her since walking in. “The men watched her walk inside.”
“Did anyone follow her?”
“No. But you know it’s only a matter of time before she’s noted as missing.”
“Perhaps not until morning. That will give me time to at least talk with her.” If she would talk to me. That remained to be seen. “See if you can locate the girl. My guess is she doesn’t want to be seen from the entrance. Let me see if I can find Dominick.”
