DANTE’S POV The meal began in relative silence, the heavy events of the night casting a lingering shadow over the room.
Danny ate slowly, picked at his food, while Cara spent more time watching her brother than focusing on her own plate.
“You need to eat as well, Cara,” Aunt Val noted gently from the head of the table.
“I am eating.” “You’ve been pushing the exact same piece of potato around your plate for the past five minutes.” Cara glanced down at her food, realizing her aunt was entirely right.
“I’ll eat,” she mumbled softly.
Reaching across the table with his fork, Julian dropped a small spoonful of cooked vegetables onto her plate.
“Do you still hate peas?” Cara stared at the food, then lifted her gaze to him, annoyance flaring in her eyes.
“Why would you do that?” “Because you used to complain endlessly whenever I forgot.” “Julian, we’re not together anymore.” “I know that.” “Then stop acting like you still remember every little detail about me.” Julian merely shrugged, entirely unbothered by her bite.
“I can’t exactly erase my memory.” As Cara pointedly pushed the peas to the far edge of her plate, I watched the interaction unfold without offering a word.
But my silence didn’t go unnoticed; Julian shifted his focus toward me.
“What?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Nothing.” “You’re staring.” “I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to look across a room.” Julian let out a sharp, breathless laugh, while Cara looked between the two of us, letting out an exhausted sigh.
“The two of you are entirely exhausting.” Beside her, Danny let out a tiny chuckle.
“You’re both annoying.” A sudden, surprised stillness fell over the table for a split second before Aunt Val broke it with a rich, clear laugh.
It was the very first time I had heard her make such a sound since this entire ordeal began.
Cara blinked, staring at her aunt in disbelief.
“You’re actually encouraging them?” “I’m simply enjoying my dinner,” Aunt Val replied smoothly, taking a sip from her glass.
Danny grinned, visibly brightening as he returned to his food, and from that moment on, the heavy atmosphere surrounding the table finally began to thaw.
Danny’s natural curiosity took over, and he began tossing questions across the table at me.
He wanted to know where I was raised, to which I offered a carefully sanitized, abbreviated version.
Next, he asked what I did for a living.
“Business,” I answered simply.
“What kind of business?” “Several different kinds.” Danny tilted his head, reading right through me.
“That just means you don’t want to tell me.” I met his gaze dead-on.
“Exactly.” He gave a firm nod, accepting the boundary as if it made complete sense.
Beside me, I caught the soft sound of Cara laughing under her breath.
I turned my head slightly toward her.
“What?” “Nothing.” “You’re laughing, Cara.” “I didn’t say a single word.” “You didn’t have to.” Danny cut back in, leaning forward over his plate.
“Do you own a motorcycle?” I paused, genuinely caught off guard.
“How did you guess that?” “Your clothes,” he said simply, gesturing toward my leather jacket.
I glanced down at myself, raising an eyebrow.
“What about them?” “You just look like the kind of guy who rides one.” At that, Julian let out a loud laugh, and even Cara had to cover her mouth to smother a sudden giggle.
I looked back at Danny, impressed despite myself.
“You’re entirely too observant for your own good.” “Can I see it sometime?” he asked eagerly.
“Maybe.” Cara immediately shook her head, shooting me a warning glare.
“Don’t encourage him, Dante.” “Why shouldn’t I?” “Because if you give him even an inch, he’ll spend the entire night badgering you about it!” Predictably, Danny immediately turned to me with bright eyes.
“Can I see it?” A slow smile pulled at my lips as I looked back at Cara.
“See what I mean?” Cara groaned loudly, hiding her face in her hands, which only made Julian laugh all over again.
Sitting back in my chair, a strange feeling washed over me as I realized that for the first time since we had left the docks, my muscles were actually relaxing.
It was a bizarre dynamic to process.
Just hours ago, I had been surrounded by gunfire, blood, and men actively trying to put a bullet through my chest.
Now, I was sitting at a pristine dining table listening to a kid argue with his sister over motorcycles.
Surprisingly, I didn’t mind it at all.
Once dinner concluded, Danny was escorted upstairs to finally get some proper rest.
Cara insisted on staying behind to help Aunt Val clear the dishes, gently rebuffing the staff members who tried to take the plates from her hands.
Julian leaned casually against the dining room doorway, watching her with a faint expression of familiarity.
“You know she won’t let anyone else do that until she feels like she’s contributed.” “I’ve noticed,” I replied, standing a few paces away.
“You’ve only known her for a day.” I glanced over at him, my voice cool.
“You’ve made a point of mentioning that already.” He shrugged, shifting his weight against the frame.
“Just thought I’d remind you.” “And why is that?” “Because,” Julian said, his eyes darkening slightly as he met my gaze, “you’re looking at her like you’ve known her for a hell of a lot longer.” Before I could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps signaled Cara walking back into the room.
She looked between the two of us suspiciously.
“What are you two whispering about?” “Nothing at all,” Julian replied smoothly, offering her an easy smile.
“Good.” She turned her attention to me, her posture suddenly growing somewhat formal.
“You’re leaving soon, aren’t you?” “I should get going, yes.” A fleeting shadow of something unreadable crossed her features, but before I could parse it, she quickly looked away toward the window.
Aunt Val stepped into the room, walking directly toward us with measured, authoritative steps.
“You aren’t leaving just yet, Dante.” I raised an eyebrow at her tone.
“I assumed dinner was over.” “It is,” she said simply.
Reaching into her skirt pocket, she withdrew the heavy black business card she had initially offered me back at the docks and pressed it firmly into my palm.
“I want you to keep this.” I looked down at the paper before meeting her eyes.
“I already told you, I don’t accept payment for things like this.” “It isn’t a payment.” She lowered her voice slightly, her tone carrying an unmistakable edge of absolute authority.
“You protected my niece.
You brought my nephew safely back to my home.
I am not a person who forgets those who do something for my family.” I stared down at the card, feeling the weight of the gesture.
“I didn’t do any of it to gain a favor, Valentina.” “I know you didn’t,” she replied, holding my gaze without flinching.
“That is precisely why I am offering one.” I waited, letting the silence stretch between us.
“If you ever find yourself in a position where you need assistance—anything at all—you call that number.” “You make that sound remarkably simple.” “That’s because it is.” “And if I actually make that call?” “I will answer it.” There was no trace of warmth or polite protocol in her expression; she meant every single word.
Closing my fingers over the card, I slipped it deep into my jacket pocket.
“Fair enough.” Aunt Val gave a single, sharp nod of approval.
“Good.” With that, she turned on her heel and glided out of the room.
I watched her exit, a faint trace of suspicion stirring in the back of my mind.
There was something fundamentally mismatched about that woman.
The estate was fortified like a fortress, her domestic staff operated with the silent efficiency of trained operatives, and she had maintained an eerie, unshakable composure throughout the entire crisis at the docks.
Even now, she didn’t look like a woman who had spent the night terrified for her family’s lives.
She had certainly been worried—she just possessed an extraordinary, dangerous ability to hide it.
Right on cue, the phone in my pocket vibrated against my hip.
I pulled it out to see Fernando’s name flashing on the screen.
Stepping away from Cara and Julian toward the quiet of the hallway, I answered.
“What’s going on?” “Where are you right now?” Fernando’s voice came through the receiver, laced with tension.
“Still at the Beaumont estate.” A brief pause hung on the line.
“Valentina Beaumont’s place?” “Yes.” “Why the hell are you still there, Dante?” “It’s a long story.” “I’ve got time.” “I don’t,” I countered sharply, glancing over my shoulder.
Aunt Val was standing near the far doorway, speaking in low, measured tones with Cara.
“Listen to me carefully.
I need you to do something.” “Name it.” “Run a complete background check on Valentina Beaumont.
Dig up everything you can find.” Fernando went dead silent for a long moment.
“Are you serious?” “Extremely.” “Is there a specific reason?” “She isn’t what she appears to be on the surface.” “Do you know something specific?” “Not yet,” I murmured, watching a security guard stationed near the front entrance stand at rigid attention.
“That’s precisely why I want you to look into her.” “Got it.
I’ll start digging immediately.” “Keep it strictly off the standard channels, Fernando.
No trace.” “Understood.” I cut the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
When I returned to the main room, Cara was standing alone by the large window, staring out into the dark gardens.
She turned the moment she heard my footsteps approaching.
“You’re really heading out then?” “Yes.” She offered a slow, tired nod, her shoulders dipping slightly.
“Thank you, Dante.” “For what?” She shot me a weary, unamused look.
“Don’t make me say it again.” A genuine smile tugged at my lips.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.” She rolled her eyes, though there was no real venom behind the gesture.
“Goodnight, Dante.” As I turned toward the exit, Julian stepped up beside me, walking alongside me toward the grand front doors.
“Do try not to get anyone else kidnapped on your way home,” he offered dryly.
I stopped at the threshold, turning my head to look him up and down.
“And try not to get yourself shot following people who clearly don’t want you around.” Julian held my gaze for a second before offering a faint, mocking smirk.
“See you around, Dante.” “I certainly hope not.” Behind us, Cara let out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head.
“Both of you are utterly impossible.” Without another word, I pushed open the heavy front doors and stepped out into the crisp night air, eager to put the house behind me before either of them could restart the argument.
I had just reached the bottom of the front steps, the gravel crunching beneath my boots, when my phone vibrated in my hand once more.
I looked down at the caller ID: Marco.
I pressed the receiver to my ear immediately.
“What happened?” “We just finished the secondary sweep of the docks, boss.” I came to a dead stop in the middle of the driveway.
“And?” “We checked the water twice,” Marco reported, his voice heavy with grim tension over the static.
“The men searched the entire coastline and swept every inch of the area surrounding the pier.” My hand tightened around the phone until my knuckles turned white.
“Did you find him?” A long, agonizing pause stretched across the line before Marco finally spoke.
“No, boss.” “What do you mean, no?” Marco exhaled slowly.
“We didn’t find a body, Dante.
Ibarra is gone.”