Chapter 4 - Dinner at the Estate
That evening, the dining room of the Costa estate looked less like a battleground and more like an uneasy truce zone.
The long mahogany dining table was laden with roasted rosemary chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, roasted Brussels sprouts with bacon, and a warm apple tart that filled the high-ceilinged room with the scent of cinnamon and butter.
For the first time in three years, all seven children were seated at the table together.
Julian sat near the end, staring down at his plate, his usual defensive sneer replaced by a thoughtful, sullen silence. Bianca hadn't touched her phone once during the entire meal. Little Eliana was swinging her legs happily, her mouth smeared with apple crumbs.
Leonardo sat at the head of the table, nursing a glass of red wine. He had spent the last four hours in his study with two federal prosecutors and a team of forensic accountants I had quietly recommended. Thomas Vance was currently in federal custody, and the first wave of frozen assets was already being legally repatriated.
“The chicken is good,” Julian muttered suddenly, breaking the quiet. He didn’t look up from his plate.
“Thank you, Julian,” I said, passing a bowl of potatoes down the line. “It helps when the cook doesn’t have to worry about hostile takeovers before dessert.”
Felix looked across the table at me, his eyes wide. “Is it true what Julian said? That you caught a bad guy just by looking at bank papers?”
“Your father caught him,” I corrected gently. “I just showed him where the footprints were.”
Leonardo looked down the table at me. In the warm glow of the crystal chandelier, the harsh, frozen lines of the mafia boss seemed to soften just a fraction. There was a quiet respect in his dark eyes—something far more dangerous and enduring than fear or utility.
“My sister chose well,” Leonardo said quietly, raising his glass slightly in my direction.
“Your sister hired a cook,” I replied with a faint smile, taking a sip of water. “You’re the one who decided to keep her.”
After dinner, while the younger children were upstairs doing homework and the teenagers had retreated to their rooms without slamming a single door, I stood at the kitchen sink washing a few remaining pans.
Warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Leonardo’s scent—woodsmoke, clean linen, and expensive cologne—surrounded me. He rested his chin lightly on my shoulder, his large, calloused hands resting gently on my apron strings.
“The auditors say we can recover at least two hundred and fifty million by the end of the month,” Leonardo murmured against my neck. “The rest of the debt structure is being renegotiated under federal supervision.”
“I told you,” I whispered, leaning back against his solid chest. “Numbers don’t lie.”
“You brought a ledger into my house, Abigail,” he said softly, turning me around in his arms so I was facing him, his gaze intense and unblinking. “I thought I was getting a housekeeper. Instead, I got a partner.”
“Don’t get romantic on me, Leonardo,” I teased lightly, though my heart was beating a little faster. “We haven’t even discussed my salary yet.”
May you like
Leonardo smiled—a real, genuine smile that transformed his intimidating face entirely.
“Name your price, Mrs. Costa,” he whispered, his hand coming up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Everything I have is yours.”
