Chapter 12: On His Knees

He was quiet on the drive home. Not cold. Quiet. And when we got into the penthouse he stood in the middle of that vast dark room like a man who didn't know where he was allowed to put his hands. So I made a decision. "Sit down," I said. He looked up. Something flickered behind his eyes. "Nora—" "Sit down, Dante." He sat. I crossed the floor to him and pulled the silk scarf off the back of the chair, and I watched the most dangerous man in New York stop breathing. "For eight years...