Page 79 of The Rook’s Obsession

“Hey.” His voice is rough. He clears his throat, unfolds his arms, then folds them again. He then gives up completely and crosses the room in three strides, wrapping his arms around me in a hug that lifts me off the floor.

He’s quick to set me down, like he’s embarrassed. But he steps back, his eyes search my face eagerly. “You came back.”

“I did.”

“She came back because I abducted her,” Nick offers helpfully from behind me.

“He did use a syringe,” I confirm. “Again.”

Liam looks at Nick. Nick shrugs. Aurora shakes her head with the resigned expression of a woman who might not have married into this family of her own choice but decided to stick around, knowing exactly what was in store.

“Dinner’s ready,” she announces before steering us all toward the dining room and smoothly changing the subject.

The table is set beautifully. Plates, napkins, actual silverware. A bottle of red wine that probably costs more than I want to think about, already open and breathing. Aurora lights the taper candles running down the center of the table, and instantly the room is filled with a warm glow.

The food comes out in stages, presented by a woman named Hannah, who helps with the cooking and general upkeep of the penthouse. First, there’s a simple salad, then bread with olive oil. Then the entrée: bolognese. It fills the room with a smell so warm and familiar that I have to fight to take a breath, thanks to the pressure in my chest. I don’t remember it from before, when I was a kid. I remember it from the cabin; the night Nick and I cooked together. It turns out that night was important to me in ways I didn’t understand until now, with emotion sweeping over me and making me blink back the tears I’m not used to shedding.

“Liam told me this was important,” Aurora explains as she sets a platter of dressed pasta on the table, while Hannah sets out a bowl of extra sauce. “We tried to replicate it as best he could remember it, but if it’s terrible, you can blame him.”

It’s not terrible. It’s incredible. The pasta is perfectly cooked, and the sauce is thick and rich and layered with flavors that unfold one at a time as I chew. I close my eyes on the first bite, and when I open them, Nick is watching me with that look. The one I used to think was strategic and now understand is something else entirely.

“This is incredible,” I tell Hannah and Aurora. “Thank you.”

Aurora winks. “It was a lot of fun to make, really. And I’m glad you like it. I think the baby likes it a lot, too.” She pats her belly, laughing softly, then digs in again.

For a while, we just eat. The conversation stays small and easy. Aurora asks about Milan, and I tell her the parts I can actually talk about, the ones that don’t involve brothels and dead men and dog collars. I tell her about Lucia’s restaurant and the canal and the Duomo. She listens with the attentive, open interest of someone who genuinely wants to know.

Liam is quieter, watching me the way he does. He doesn’t say much, only eating steadily and grunting every once in a while. But there’s something in his face that wasn’t there before. Like he’s relaxing.

Nick’s knee finds mine under the table at some point. He doesn’t move it, and neither do I.

It’s over the second glass of wine that Liam brings it up. He’s direct, doesn’t beat around the bush. A man who’s used to running things, so he gets to the point because he doesn’t see the purpose in dancing around it.

“I want to talk about what comes next,” he announces, setting down his fork to look at me. “For you. For all of us.”

I dab at the corners of my mouth with my napkin before setting it back in my lap. “Okay.”

“You have a place here.” He says it simply, like it’s a known fact. “Not as a guest, not temporarily. This is your family, and you belong in it. Whatever happened before, whatever was taken from you—none of it changes what you are to me and have always been.”

The tightness in my chest is not unpleasant. Far from it.

“If you want to be part of what I’ve built,” he continues, “you have a spot. But not as an employee or as someone who takes orders.” He glances at Nick, then back at me. “As a partner. The way Nick is. You’d have a voice and a seat at the table. Equal say in how things are run. Your skills—” He stops, like he wants to choose his words carefully. “The things you know how to do. They’re an asset, but only if you want them to be. Nobody’s going to use you. Those days are over now.”

“Unless she wants to use them,” Nick points out. “In which case, she’s very good at it.”

“Not helpful,” Aurora murmurs into her water glass.

For a little while, all I can do is watch Liam. He’s a man who shares my face and my blood, and he’s offering me something I’ve never had. He isn’t handing me a role or a function, or a set of instructions. He’s giving me a place. A real one. One with my name on it, where I’d be valued not for what I can do, but for who I am.

The difference between that and what Vincenzo offered is so vast it almost doesn’t compute.

“I’ve never worked for myself before,” I say slowly. “Everything I’ve done has been under someone else’s direction. Someone else decided the target, the timeline, and the approach. I executed. That was the arrangement.”

“This wouldn’t be like that,” he tells me.

“I know.” I turn my wineglass on the table, watching the candlelight move through the red wine. “That’s what makes it scary.”

Aurora’s head tips to the side. “That’s how you know it matters.”