Three weeks later, Sadie received an envelope.

She expected her paycheck.

Instead, she found every dollar she had paid toward her father's supposed debt.

Returned.

All of it.

She marched directly upstairs.

Rosa saw her approaching.

“Sadie.”

“I know. Rule three.”

Rosa sighed.

“Apparently rule three doesn't apply to you anymore.”

Sadie entered Dante's study.

He was standing beside the window in a fitted black shirt and dark trousers. His injuries had healed considerably.

He turned.

“You're angry.”

Sadie dropped the envelope onto his desk.

“What is this?”

“Money.”

“I figured that out.”

“It belongs to you.”

“I paid it willingly.”

“You paid it because Mercer threatened you.”

“And you recovered it?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Dante's expression told her she wouldn't receive details.

Sadie sighed.

“I don't want charity.”

“It isn't charity.”

“It feels like it.”

“Then consider it restitution.”

She pushed the envelope toward him.

“No.”

He pushed it back.

“No.”

They stared at each other.

Finally Sadie said, “You're incredibly irritating.”

“So I've been told.”

“By whom?”

“Mostly you.”

She almost smiled.

Then Dante produced another envelope.

Sadie's eyes narrowed.

“What now?”

“Open it.”

Inside was a letter.

She read the first paragraph twice.

Then looked at him.

“This is from Northwestern.”

“Yes.”

“The nursing program.”

“Yes.”

“They're offering to let me return.”

“Yes.”

Her expression changed.

“You did this.”

“I made a phone call.”

“Dante.”

“Several.”

“I don't want you buying my future.”

His face became serious.

“I didn't.”

“Then explain.”

“I asked them to review your old academic record. You earned the grades. You completed the clinical requirements. They decided you deserved another chance.”

“And tuition?”

“Scholarship.”

She stared suspiciously.

“Whose scholarship?”

“The Patrick Gallagher Foundation.”

Sadie's eyes widened.

“You created a foundation?”

“Yesterday.”

“Dante!”

“It will fund nursing students forced to leave school because of financial emergencies.”

Sadie didn't know whether to yell or cry.

So she did neither.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Is that good?”

“I'm deciding.”

He walked closer.

“Sadie.”

“What?”

“You saved my life.”

“You don't owe me a life in return.”

“I know.”

“Then stop acting like you do.”

Dante became quiet.

When he spoke again, there was no mafia boss in his voice.

Only a man.

“What if I'm not doing it because I owe you?”

Sadie looked at him.

“Then why?”

He held her gaze.

“Because the first person who walked into my private rooms without wanting money, power, or information was a terrified maid who looked at a gun and told me I was too injured to use it.”

Sadie laughed softly.

“That was medically accurate.”

“I know.”

“And reckless.”

“Extremely.”

He stepped closer.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you since.”

The room became silent.

Sadie whispered, “That's a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

“You're Dante Russo.”

“I've been informed.”

“Your house has armed guards.”

“Yes.”

“People whisper when you enter rooms.”

“Annoying habit.”

“You pointed a gun at me.”

His expression changed.

“I regret that.”

“You were terrified.”

“I was not terrified.”

“You were.”

“I was losing blood.”

“Terrified.”

Dante sighed.

“You're going to hold that over me forever.”

Sadie smiled.

“Maybe.”

He looked at her.

“Does that mean there's a forever?”

Sadie's smile disappeared.

For once, Dante Russo looked uncertain.

She stepped closer.

“Ask me again after I finish nursing school.”

“That's two years.”

“Scared?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

This time Dante smiled.

“I'll wait.”