I could not argue with that. When I looked at Marco, I saw a child desperate for connection, for someone to simply be present without agenda or fear.
“If I say yes,” I began cautiously, “I need guarantees.”
“Name them.”
“My sister.”
“Already covered in the contract. What else?”
“Boundaries. I won’t be involved in anything illegal. My job is to care for Marco. Nothing more.”
He nodded slowly.
“Acceptable. Anything else?”
“If I ever feel Marco is in danger, I leave. No repercussions.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Respect, perhaps.
“Marco’s safety is my primary concern as well.”
Then his voice dropped lower.
“Understand this, Ellie. Once you’re part of our lives, certain protections extend to you. But certain risks do as well. I can mitigate those risks, but I cannot eliminate them entirely.”
It was the most honest statement he had made. A clear acknowledgment of the world I would be stepping into.
Before I could respond, Marco returned, his face freshly washed, his good arm clutching a dinosaur book.
“Can we eat now? I’m starving.”
Dante’s expression softened instantly.
“Yes, piccolo. Dinner is ready.”
Dinner was a surprisingly normal affair. We ate in a smaller dining room rather than the formal one I had glimpsed on my first visit. Marco chatted about school, his friends or lack thereof, and his extensive dinosaur knowledge. Dante listened attentively, asking questions that showed genuine interest in his son’s passions.
I watched their interaction, struck by the transformation in Dante when he focused on Marco. The hard edges softened. The calculating gaze warmed. Glimpses of genuine tenderness broke through his carefully maintained facade.
