Chapter Four

“I made lunch,” Dante announced when I walked into the living room after a longer than normal shower, my brain a whirlwind of questions and scenarios.

“I’m not so sure I want to know what your idea of lunch is if you consider veal to be a midnight snack,” I jested nervously as he led me to the veranda, where he had set out two plates on the outdoor dining table. All the comfort and ease I’d begun to feel around him had disappeared. Now I felt as if I were meeting Dante for the first time.

“Just some grilled salmon over a Mediterranean cucumber salad. Nothing too fancy.” He winked, holding my chair out for me.

“Yeah. Sure,” I scoffed. “Most people are happy with a sandwich for lunch.”

“Haven’t you figured it out by now?” He took the seat across from me. “I’m not most people.”

“I gathered as much.” I placed my napkin on my lap, staring at the food in front of me. I’d barely eaten anything all day, but food was the last thing I wanted right now.

“Eat,” Dante urged, noticing my reluctance to pick up my knife and fork.

“I’m not that hungry,” I insisted, my stomach rolling.

“Just take one bite. For me.” I met his gaze, a twinkle in his eyes.

Picking up my fork with a sigh, I sliced into the salmon, bringing it to my mouth. I took a bite, the buttery flavor dancing on my taste buds. Dante had a way of making a food I normally didn’t think twice about taste unlike anything I’d ever eaten.

“It’s delicious,” I commented before taking another bite.

“Good.” He sliced into his own salmon, silence stretching between us as we ate. The only sounds were that of the city of Rome bustling six floors below and the occasional chirping bird.

After a few moments, he spoke again. “You were constantly checking the clock on the far wall of the lounge.”

I lifted my eyes to his, my heart rate picking up. There was a sort of serenity about him.

“You had this look on your face I couldn’t quite describe. I thought maybe you just didn’t fly much and were uneasy about the prospect of being lifted miles into the air by a pair of engines that could give out at any second.”

“Way to make me feel great about my trip home,” I shot back sarcastically.

“You have a better chance of dying in a car accident, of winning the lottery.”

“I know.” I gave him a congenial smile.

“It didn’t even dawn on me you’d run out on your own wedding. Once I realized that, everything became so clear — you, your family…his family. I didn’t know much about you personally, but I had a feeling you’d been through more shit because of them than any one person should ever have to deal with. As much as I initially believed fate intervened so I could get the answers I’ve been waiting years for, I couldn’t shake the feeling you were just a pawn in their game. You didn’t need any more trauma in your life, so I made sure to disappear after we landed. I prayed our paths wouldn’t cross again.”

“But they did.”

He slowly nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.” He briefly closed his eyes. “And I couldn’t ignore it anymore. This was the third chance encounter. The lounge. The plane. Then my restaurant. I thought if I spoiled you with some good food and even better wine, maybe you’d loosen up and relax enough—”

“To what?” I raised my brows. “To sleep with you?”

He shook his head, taking a sip of sparkling water. “This was never about sleeping with you.” He paused, the intensity in his eyes searing me. I had absolutely no reason to believe anything he told me, but the truth was clear as day in the way he regarded me. “I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that Brock’s father, James, was the American serviceman my mother fell in love with when he was stationed over here. The two kids he had when my mother told him she was pregnant—”

“Are Brock’s older brother and sister,” I said, filling in the blanks. “Brock didn’t come along until his brother was ten and sister was thirteen, long after James had retired from active duty. He always prided himself on being a mistake.”

“I meant what I said earlier today. That man and Brock are my father and step-brother in name only. They aren’t family. None of them are. They never have been, nor will they ever be.”

“I Googled you,” I admitted quietly. “That’s when I realized who you were. I mean, I knew who you were. Everyone knows who you are. I just never put two and two together.” I pushed my food around my plate, lowering my eyes. “My friend, Mila, says you’re her and her husband’s free pass.”

He laughed, the sound chipping away at the ice around my heart, and I met his gaze once more. “Free pass?” He cocked his head, waking up the butterflies in my stomach. “What does that mean?” There was a lightness to his expression that made my heart do backflips.

“Exactly how it sounds.” I shrugged, stabbing my fork into a few pieces of cucumber. “If the opportunity ever arose for them to…you know…”

His grin widened and he shook his head, laughing even louder. I couldn’t help but crack a smile in response as I listened to that beautiful sound.

“But that’s all beside the point.” I immediately straightened my spine, my expression turning serious again. I refused to give in to his charms. “I never saw any mention of your relationship to Brock or his dad…your dad…or that you had a daughter.”

“Like I said, James Harrison is no more a father than a sperm donor would be. My mother never spoke of him much when I was growing up. I was always curious, I suppose. I saw so many of my other friends playing football — or what you know as soccer — with their fathers. My uncle Massimo was the one who taught me, who coached me. He was the father figure in my life. He helped raise me. I never really felt as if anything was missing.

“Eventually, I stopped caring about who my father was. I finished high school, went to university, then on to culinary school.” He lowered his eyes, staring at his half-eaten salmon. “Went to rehab.”

“I know.” I offered him a compassionate look.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like you did. I should have told you who I was from the start.”

I shrugged. “There was no reason for you to. We were just supposed to have a one-night stand, then I was supposed to walk away.”

“But you didn’t. Why?” He studied me, his piercing gaze unnerving.

“Probably the same reason you asked me to stay.” I fidgeted with the napkin in my lap. A breeze blew a few dark brown tendrils of hair in front of my face. I smoothed them behind my ear. “When I first found out you and Brock were brothers—”

“Half-brothers,” Dante corrected quickly.

“Right. Well, I thought you only befriended me and asked me to stay so you could tell him where I was.”

Dante hesitantly reached for my cheek. I almost pulled away, not wanting to give in to him so easily, but I was still addicted to his touch. Leaning into his hand, I briefly closed my eyes as he ran a light finger down my face, stopping when he closed in on the bruise on my neck. What had just been a subtle red patch where Dante had marked me earlier in the morning had become purple and black, Brock’s teeth having broken through the skin.

I met his eyes, the vein in his neck throbbing, his jaw clenching, his nostrils flaring. “I never should have left you. I should have known—”

“Why do you blame James for your daughter’s death?” I interrupted, pulling away from him. “How did she die?”

He sank back into his chair, exhaling a long sigh. It was silent for a moment while he collected his thoughts. “She would have been twelve this October.”

“And her mother?” I lifted a brow, unsure how to even ask the question I was trying to.

“She was an American.” A slight smile formed on his lips. “I suppose you could say I have a type.”

I released a small laugh, a blush building on my cheeks.

“When I first moved to the States, she was on the waitstaff at the restaurant where I’d been recruited to be executive chef. She was younger, about twenty-one. We were just having a little fun. After four months or so, she told me she was pregnant, thanks to a broken condom. This was before I’d become a household name. Hell, I’d just started working on my book, not thinking it would go anywhere. Alison…Ali…fully expected me to not want anything to do with the baby. I told her I would support her in whatever she decided. Thankfully, she chose to keep the baby and I was there every step of the way. After growing up without a father, I refused to let my daughter experience that.”

“Did you love her?”

“Who?”

“Alison.” I didn’t know why I asked him that. It didn’t matter. It was years ago. Still, I couldn’t help myself.

He stared off, a thoughtful look about him. “Alison was a wonderful person, with a huge heart, and she was the best mother Lilly could have asked for.” He returned his eyes to mine. “But did I love her? No, and she didn’t love me. We’d just started sleeping together to blow off steam. Neither one of us wanted a serious relationship. Once Lilly came into the picture, we stopped sleeping together and pursued our own relationships, but kept our daughter’s needs in mind throughout everything. In the long run, it was probably for the best. Once the book took off and I began getting offers for TV and film, I was glad I’d kept my relationship with Alison under wraps. I did everything I could to keep them out of the spotlight, to make sure Lilly had as normal a childhood as possible. That’s why you probably didn’t find any mention of either of them when you looked me up.”

I nodded, then paused before asking my next question. “What happened to her?”

His shoulders fell, a weariness washing over him. “When she was around five, she started complaining of a stomach ache. At first, we figured it wasn’t anything to concern ourselves with. She was a kid. Sometimes they eat too much sweet food. It didn’t help that I stopped by her mother’s apartment every day with treats my pastry chef made. Even after controlling her diet, the stomach ache didn’t go away. One night, she started having trouble breathing, so we rushed her to the emergency room. The doctors there ran test after test, eventually loading us all in an ambulance to transfer us to the children’s hospital.”

“Were you living here?”

He shook his head. “No. We were in New York. I didn’t really return here until Lilly…” He trailed off and I nodded, passing him an understanding look. “Anyway, when we got there, they wheeled Lilly into the oncology unit.”

“Oh god,” I breathed, covering my mouth with my hand.

“I’d never been more scared and angry in my life than I was when I walked through the doors with those letters on them.”

“Dante, I—”

“The following day, we got the news no parent ever wants to hear. Lilly had leukemia. The doctors assured us they would do everything they could to force the cancer into remission. And they did. They tried everything. She underwent intravenous chemotherapy and routine blood transfusions. It was torture watching this formerly vibrant, full of life girl become too tired and sick to play.”

I reached across the table, grabbing his hand. He shot his eyes to mine, hope building behind them as his fingers caressed my knuckles. I wanted to offer him some sort of comfort. Despite everything I’d learned earlier today, despite still having a thousand questions, this just felt right. His skin on my skin. His hand clasped in my hand. His eyes locked with my eyes.

“The doctors told us that at some point, she might need a bone marrow transplant. The best probability of a match would be a brother or sister. She didn’t have either, so both Alison and I began reaching out to our family members to submit a sample to see if they were a match. It was at this point that my mother finally told me who my father was.”

“Oh, Dante,” I sighed, shaking my head, pulling my hand away.

“I almost thought she was joking. As you know, James comes from a long line of politicians.”

“Brock didn’t let me forget it,” I replied, less than enthusiastically. “He made it sound like he was the next JFK. I should have told him he’d never amount to that.”

“At the time, James had just been appointed Commissioner of the FDA and stood for everything I hated. During his time in Congress, he routinely voted for less regulation in the food industry, giving huge corporations incentives to keep poisoning us with the chemicals they use in food. And I had half of that man’s DNA. I just… It killed me, but I had to swallow my pride and approach him.”

“What happened?”

“Exactly what I expected. He knew who I was because of my book and my work on several films exposing corruption in the food industry. He didn’t realize I was his son, though. Once I told him who my mother was and he did the math in his head, he whipped out his checkbook, asking how much I wanted to keep quiet. I told him I wasn’t interested in his money. Hell, I probably had more than he did. Then he asked what I wanted, so I told him about Lilly. I requested that he and his other children go see if they were a possible donor match, regardless of how much of a long shot it was. Just as I expected, he refused, said he’d never acknowledge me as his son.”

I furrowed my brows. “Is this why you think he’s responsible for Lilly’s death?”

He slowly shook his head. “No. The likelihood of James or his other kids being a match was slim to none. I knew that going in. I wasn’t a match. No one on my side of the family who had provided samples was a match. Same for Alison’s family. Still, the doctors didn’t say she would absolutely need a bone marrow transplant, just that she might. We wanted to be prepared in case she did. We didn’t want to waste precious time searching for a match if the time came.”

“So what happened?”

“Lilly went through intravenous chemo, which usually has good results for child leukemia patients, but it didn’t work on her. The doctors recommended we try a newer drug called Sprylif that targeted the Philadelphia chromosome directly. That’s the chromosome that causes leukemia. I read up on the drug. All the scholarly articles written about it stated it had been successfully tested during clinical trials and could change the face of treatment for leukemia patients, providing them a course of treatment involving no intravenous chemotherapy. The side effects were minimal, no worse than normal chemotherapy, so we agreed.

“She started Sprylif on Monday.” He paused, swallowing hard. “She was dead by Saturday.” He shook his head. “The doctors blamed it on an infection they later found, not the drug. They’d given the same drugs to other patients, some at the exact same time as Lilly, and it worked. They didn’t get sicker. In fact, many of them eventually went into remission. In the end, the doctors ruled that the disease had made her body too weak to fight any infections and her immune system just gave out.”

“But you didn’t believe them.” I narrowed my gaze, engrossed. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to watch his daughter, his own flesh and blood, lose strength and not be able to do anything. A lump formed in my throat, my heart aching for him.

“I did…at first. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something wrong with the drug she was given, despite all the evidence to the contrary.”

“Even though it tested well and other patients reacted fine to it?” I raised a brow, always one to play devil’s advocate.

“I know how it sounds,” he admitted with a heavy sigh. “Like I’m grasping at straws and trying to blame anything and everything other than the cancer.”

I shrugged. “A little.”

“After calling the FDA, various cancer organizations, and the pharmaceutical company that manufactured this particular drug, reaching dead end after dead end, I began to believe it, too. Until about three months ago when my perseverance and insistence paid off. I finally got a call back from a woman claiming to be an employee at Barnes Pharmaceuticals, which manufactured Sprylif, stating that my daughter’s death could have been prevented. That there was something going on, some sort of corruption that went all the way to the head of the FDA.”

“Who just so happens to be your biological father.”

“Yes.”

“What corruption?”

“She wouldn’t say over the phone. She sounded a bit paranoid and agitated. Said something about someone possibly listening in, so she asked to meet in person. I was hesitant at first, but she sounded desperate, saying it could be a matter of life or death.”

My brain spun a million miles a minute as I absorbed his story. “She could have just been pulling your chain. You said it yourself. She sounded paranoid. How did you know she was credible?”

“I thought the same thing, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least hear what she had to say. So I hopped on the next flight out to LA.”

“Since James isn’t behind bars and you’re still looking for answers, I’m guessing something happened.”

He nodded. “She never showed up. I waited for several hours, thinking perhaps she simply got delayed in that horrific traffic of yours. But when ten o’clock rolled around and she still hadn’t shown up for an eight o’clock meeting, I knew she wouldn’t be coming.”

“Do you know why?”

His eyes appeared vacant as he stared at me. “The following morning, as I was watching the news, I saw a report of a woman named Cynthia Edelman who had committed suicide the previous evening. She was in-house legal counsel at Barnes Pharmaceuticals. It seemed like too much of a coincidence.”

“So you think James found out she was a whistleblower and what? Killed her?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed, rubbing his temples, his frustration evident. “I’ve read all the police reports on her death. After a lengthy investigation, they ruled it a suicide due to the lack of any evidence of foul play. The autopsy confirmed that. She did sound agitated over the phone. Maybe it was all too much and she took her own life. I’ve reached out to her family members, only to have them all hang up on me, insisting she took her own life and that I shouldn’t be bringing up the past when they were trying to make peace with her death. I have just as many questions as you do. All I know is what Cynthia told me over the phone, which wasn’t much.”

“Why haven’t you gone to the police if you think there’s something shady going on?”

“For the same reasons you brought up. The only proof I have of anything is a phone call from an anonymous source who sounded paranoid and spouted off about corruption in the FDA and the pharmaceutical industry, then took her own life. Not to mention, if there is something shady going on, James is a very powerful man. He had enough connections to cover this up. He’d surely have enough connections to make sure any investigation was thwarted.”

“You could have them look into this drug, couldn’t you? See if they find a link without accusing James outright?”

“I have no proof Sprylif was the direct cause of Lilly’s death. The doctors couldn’t find a connection. The number of medications cancer patients take is endless. Sprylif was just one on a very long list. You could collect data from every child leukemia patient who, unfortunately, passed away and not find one single common denominator. Some took this drug. Some took other drugs. And not everyone who was given this particular drug died. Some went into remission. I looked. I tried everything to figure out what was going on. I could go to the press with my theory, but without evidence, that’s all it would be…a theory. Until I have concrete evidence of James’ involvement in whatever this is…”

“And you hoped I may lead you to that evidence.”

He reached across the table, grabbing my hand in his. “I’m not going to lie to you and say no. You already know the answer. When you ended up on my flight, in the seat across the aisle from me, then in my restaurant, I thought it was fate finally intervening and giving me exactly what I needed.” A small smile spread across his lips. “And she did. You were exactly what I needed.”

I pulled my hand away. “You still used me. You still slept with me just to—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I didn’t. I know you have no reason to believe me, but when we slept together, I’d already realized you were just a pawn to them, too. Just like me. Just like Lilly.”

“Then why did you?” I asked in a quiet voice, a heavy lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

His gaze locked with mine, unwavering, resolute, not hiding anything. “Because I fell.”

“You…fell?” I blinked repeatedly, swallowing hard.

“Just a little at first,” he murmured, grabbing my hands in his once more. “But with each smile…” He kissed my hand. “Each laugh…” He kissed my other hand. “Each brush of your skin on mine…” He pulled back, meeting my eyes. “I fell.”

“You don’t even know me,” I choked out, overwhelmed with his candor. As much as I wanted to think this was just another one of his lies so it would be easier to walk away, I knew it wasn’t.

“Because you won’t let me in. I’m not one of them. I promise.”

“Dante, I…” I pulled my hands from his, shaking my head, words escaping me. I didn’t know what to say. Most everyone else in my life constantly lied and took advantage of me, not feeling a hint of regret for their actions. But Dante was different. It was clear in the pain in his eyes, in the worry lines on his face, in the way he looked at me with bated breath, as if I held his fate in my hands.

Fate.

Mila’s words from earlier came rushing back.

Sometimes fate gives us exactly what we need when we’re too busy watching life pass us by.

Could she be right? Was there a reason Dante had entered my life? I’d never believed in the idea of fate before, but over the past few days, I began having second thoughts. Dante had opened my mind, my heart, my soul to new things, new ideas, new feelings. For the first time in years, perhaps forever, I felt something…something bigger than me, bigger than us, bigger than anything. I felt happiness…because of Dante.

Inhaling deeply, I met his eyes, my lips forming a tight line. “I leave in five days.”

He swiftly pushed out of his chair, rushing toward my side of the table. He kneeled in front of me and clutched my hands in his. It was such a humbling gesture to see this man kneel before me, begging for my forgiveness. Brock hadn’t even kneeled in front of me when he’d proposed.

“And I understand if you’d prefer to spend your last few days on your own. I just—”

I held up my hand, stopping him from saying another word. I should hate this man because he’d proven to be no different from anyone else in my life. In my heart, though, I knew he was.

“And I know I’d regret it every day for the rest of my life if I walked away from you now.” My serious expression turned into a smile.

His shoulders fell as relief consumed him. He raised my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm. “I am so sorry, Eleanor. I will continue to tell you how sorry I am every day. I’ll never stop.”

Grabbing his face, I brought him closer to me, kissing him with everything I had, trying to show him it didn’t matter. As much as I wanted to be angry with him, I couldn’t. The way he was willing to do anything and everything to get justice for his daughter spoke to me on a level I didn’t quite expect. If I were in his shoes, I would have done the same thing. I wouldn’t stop until I had all the answers. I wouldn’t care who I had to hurt in order to get them.

Pulling back slightly, he gazed at me with longing. “When I saw the pain on your face earlier this morning after you found out the truth, I was so worried I’d never taste your lips again.”

“I’m sure you could find a willing substitute with no problem,” I joked, breaking the thick tension.

“I don’t want a substitute,” he murmured, bringing his mouth toward mine again. “Not now. Not ever.”

“Not…ever?” I repeated, stammering.

“No, Eleanor. Not ever.”

“Oh, Dante.” I ran my hands through his hair, kissing him with more passion than I could remember doing anything in my life. My heart had never felt so full, his sincerity and honesty a welcome change to what I’d grown accustomed to. His tongue danced with mine, both of us letting go of all the emotions we’d built up over the past few days, months, years. I had no idea what direction my life was headed or what I was going to do when I finally returned home. None of that mattered right now. All that mattered was the devotion I felt from Dante’s arms holding me in a way that made me think he’d never let go. And I didn’t want him to.

He pulled back, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Was there anything here in Rome you absolutely had to see?”

“Not really. Why?” I furrowed my brows, studying him.

“Because we’re leaving.” He stood up, holding his hand out toward me.

“We’re leaving?” I asked as I hesitantly raised myself to my feet, taking his hand in mine.

“Yes, Eleanor. Brock found you here. I was careless. I’ve grown so accustomed to photographers snapping my picture that it never occurred to me he may see you with me and be able to track you down.”

“But he left.”

“We can’t be certain of that, so we’re getting out of the city until I know he’s no longer in this country. I’m not putting your life at risk any longer. I’ve lost too many important people because of that family. I won’t lose you, too.”