Chapter 5 - The Second CourseThe restaurant Dante chose for their second meeting was not the Wellington.
It was a small, unmarked trattoria nestled in a quiet, brick-paved alley in the Heart of Italy neighborhood on the South Side. There were no valet stands, no gold fixtures, and no tourists. The windows were small and fogged with the steam of boiling pasta, the air inside thick with the rich, intoxicating scent of garlic, rosemary, and slow-simmered pork ragu.
When Khloe arrived—wearing a simple, dark plum wrap dress that hugged her hips and fell softly to her knees—she found the restaurant completely empty, save for an elderly couple working in the kitchen.
Dante was sitting at a corner table near a brick fireplace, his black suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, his white sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He was using a piece of crusty bread to clean a plate of olive oil and herbs, looking completely at home in the modest surroundings.
“You’re late,” he said as she approached, a faint, teasing glint in his pale gray eyes.
“The bus was stuck on Clark Street,” Khloe said, sliding into the chair opposite him. She looked around the quiet room. “Did you buy this place too?”
Dante laughed—a warm, low sound that seemed to vibrate through the wooden table. “No. This is Maria and Leo’s place. My father used to bring me here when I was ten years old to teach me how to negotiate with the dock managers. It’s the only place in the city where no one looks at me like I’m about to indict them.”
He pushed a glass of deep red wine toward her. “This is Valpolicella. From a small vineyard in Veneto that my family has imported from for sixty years. Drink.”
Khloe took a sip. The wine was heavy, complex, carrying notes of dark cherry and earth that warmed her chest instantly. “It’s amazing.”
“Maria made the gnocchi tonight,” Dante said, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table. The silver scar on his cheek caught the amber glow of the fireplace. “She’s been in the kitchen since four this morning. She’s very excited to meet you.”
“Why?” Khloe asked, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “Because I’m the woman you rescued from Gregory Tanner?”
Dante’s expression sobered slightly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “Because you’re the first woman I’ve brought here in six years, Khloe.”
The silence stretched between them, comfortable but charged with an undercurrent of unspoken questions. Khloe looked at his hands—large, strong, with faint scars across his knuckles that suggested his wealth hadn't always been managed from behind a desk.
“I looked you up,” she said, deciding that honesty was her only survival strategy. “I read the articles. The dock investigations. The real estate acquisitions. The… other things.”
Dante didn't flinch. He didn't offer a corporate explanation or a smooth legal defense. He merely took a sip of his wine, his gaze remaining steady.
“And what did you decide?” he asked.
“I decided that you are a very dangerous man,” she said honestly. “And that I have no business sitting across a table from you.”
“But you’re still here,” Dante noted, a small, appreciative smile touching his lips.
“I’m still here,” she admitted, looking down at her hands. “Because for three years, I’ve been living a life where everyone was trying to make me smaller. Greg wanted me to be a shadow. My boss wants me to be an Excel spreadsheet. But when you stood up in that restaurant last night… you made me feel like I had a right to the entire room. I’ve never had someone do that for me before.”
Dante set his glass down. He reached across the table, his large, warm hand covering hers, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin of her wrist.
“My world is not clean, Khloe,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, serious register. “There are people in this city who would use you to get to me. There are people who think my name is a target. But I promise you this: if you walk with me, no one will ever make you feel small again. No one will count your bites. No one will tell you your dress is too tight. I will buy every room in this city before I let anyone look at you with anything less than respect.”
The warmth of his hand crept up her arm, settling deep in her chest. For the first time in her life, Khloe didn't feel the need to apologize for her size, her appetite, or her heart.
May you like
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Good,” Dante said, his smile returning as Maria emerged from the kitchen carrying two massive plates of steaming gnocchi. “Now eat. Maria will be very offended if you leave even a drop of that sauce.”
