Steadied.
I bent and kissed his forehead.
“I’m coming back.”
“You better. And bring normal clothes. You look like a haunted cupcake.”
Dante’s mouth twitched.
I pointed at him. “Do not laugh.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
But his eyes betrayed him.
We left through a lower exit, not the one we entered. Dante’s men moved in tight formation. My dress caught twice. By the second time, I grabbed the skirt and tore it at the thigh.
Dante looked down.
“Practical,” I said.
“Expensive.”
“Bill Julian.”
This time, he did smile.
It vanished the moment we reached the parking level.
A black SUV sat crooked near the ramp.
Its headlights were off.
Dante’s hand moved slightly, and every man around him changed shape, becoming quieter, sharper.
“Behind me,” he said.
I obeyed before pride could object.
A door opened.
My father stepped out.
Rainwater dripped from his coat. His silver hair was perfect. His face was not.
For the first time in my life, he looked old.
“Serena,” he said.
Hearing my name in his mouth made my skin crawl.
Dante did not move.
My father’s eyes flicked to him, then back to me.
“Come home.”
I almost laughed.
“Which home? The one you mortgaged? The one you filled with lies? Or the one where you planned to hand Miles over like paperwork?”
His mouth tightened.
“You don’t understand what I’ve done for this family.”
“I saw the price.”
A flicker of panic.
So small I might have missed it once.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“No,” I said. “I was supposed to say yes.”
His gaze hardened.
“You think Romano saved you? Ask him what his family did to your mother.”
The parking level seemed to drop into silence.