Chapter 7 - The Lakehouse|
Two hours later, my dark SUV cleared the iron gates of our private estate in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.
The lakehouse was a sprawling timber-and-stone retreat hidden deep within three hundred acres of pine forest, surrounded by tranquil blue water and autumn trees. It was the one property I owned that had never been touched by Moretti Global business.
I killed the engine.
Alina sat in the passenger seat, looking out at the foggy lake through the tinted window. She had been silent during the ninety-minute drive from Evanston, her hands resting tightly in her lap.
I stepped out, walked around to her side, and opened her door.
"Come," I said gently, extending my hand to her.
She looked at my broad, calloused palm for three long seconds. Slowly, hesitantly, she placed her small, delicate fingers in mine.
Her hand was cold. I closed my fingers gently around hers, bringing her hand up to my lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.
Alina gasped softly, her dark eyes widening with shock.
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"Dante..." she whispered, her voice cracking. "What are we doing here? What about the board? What about Marcus?"
"Marcus is gone, Alina," I said quietly, guiding her up the wooden steps of the porch. "And the board can wait. For the next three days, there is no Moretti Global. There is only you and me."
