Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
By three o'clock that afternoon, the sun had finally broken through the grey winter clouds over Chicago, casting brilliant shafts of golden light through the tall leaded glass windows of the estate.
The heavy silence had returned to the mansion, but it was no longer a silence filled with dark, rotting secrets.
Julian and his men had been removed from the property three hours prior, escorted directly to a private airfield by Marco's team to face total corporate liquidation in New York. Aunt Rosa had signed the transfer documents before noon, relinquishing every claim her branch of the family had held on the Caruso estate and its subsidiary operations.
Down in the lower library, a team of licensed historic conservators—personally vetted by my firm—were carefully documenting the subterranean vault, preserving Elena Caruso's architectural drawings and personal journals for proper archival storage.
I stood in the center of the grand foyer, wearing my dark sweater, holding my clipboard, reviewing the final structural restoration manifests for the library wall.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the marble stairs.
Dominic walked down the grand staircase, wearing a fresh charcoal suit, his hair neatly styled, looking like the undisputed master of his world once again.
He stopped in the center of the foyer, looking around the bright, sunlit space.
The bronze bust of his grandfather was still missing from the entrance console—it was currently residing in the third-floor storage, exactly where I had put it.
Dominic walked over to the antique console table, resting his hand against the polished wood surface. He looked down at the smooth, gleaming finish I had spent hours perfecting.
"Lemon oil," Dominic noted softly.
I looked up from my clipboard, offering a faint smile. "Nineteenth-century walnut requires organic citrus oil to prevent moisture cracking in cold climates, Mr. Caruso."
Dominic turned his dark eyes onto me. The lethal, terrifying edge that had dominated his posture during the confrontation with Julian was gone, replaced by a deep, quiet warmth that made my pulse jump in my chest.
"You're very stubborn, Maya," Dominic said, stepping closer to me.
"I am thorough, Mr. Caruso," I corrected politely. "That's why your aunt hired me. Even if she did it for the wrong reasons."
Dominic reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek, heavy leather folder. He held it out to me.
I frowned slightly, taking the folder. "What is this?"
"Your company's final property evaluation check," Dominic said. "Plus an additional retainer fee."
I opened the folder.
Inside was a certified bank cashier's check made out to my firm for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I gasped, my eyes widening in shock. "Mr. Caruso... this is five times our standard monthly residential management fee."
"The standard fee covers storm checks and contractor supervision," Dominic replied, his voice dropping into a rich, soft baritone. "It doesn't cover disarming my security chief, discovering hidden vaults, uncovering sixty-year-old family homicides, or helping me dismantle my cousin's corporate coup before breakfast."
I stared at the check, then looked up into his handsome, dark face. "I can't accept this much."
"You can," Dominic said, taking a step closer until he was standing right in front of me, his scent of cedar and rain enveloping my senses. "And you will. But that isn't the retainer portion of the contract."
I blinked, looking at the second document in the folder.
It was a long-term corporate management contract, offering my firm exclusive curation and property oversight for all Caruso family estates across North America—including properties in Miami, New York, Aspen, and London.
And listed at the bottom of the document was a personal clause, written in clean, sharp blue ink:
Subject requires direct, primary consultation with Mr. Dominic Caruso at the Chicago estate for no less than two weeks per month.
May you like
My breath caught in my throat. I looked up at him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Direct consultation?"
"I discovered today that my house flows much better when you are in it, Maya," Dominic murmured, reaching out and gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair away from my forehead. "And I don't like coming home to an empty mansion."
