A simple phone call. A simple hushed phone call from Max and Sonny was in the limousine making his way back over to the penthouse. He'd been at the main warehouse inspecting the latest shipment of coffee beans from Columbia when his phone vibrated wildly in his breast pocket.
“Boss,” Max had whispered, “Mrs. C is home!” The big bodyguard's voice reflected the rising sense of hope Sonny himself felt. After five days of estrangement, Dara had chosen to return home.
The limousine slid into its familiar place in the Harborview Towers parking garage. Sonny did not wait for his driver to pull open the back door for him. He briskly climbed from the car and was on his way toward the private elevators almost before the big vehicle had stopped rolling.
Sonny saw his top bodyguard waiting in the elevator. Francis was steady and reserved, and Sonny was grateful for the man's even personality at that moment. He had steeled himself to deal with Max. “How long has my wife been here?” Sonny asked.
Francis checked his watch. “About twenty minutes now,” he said. “She nodded at the guards on her way up, but that was it. She went inside the penthouse and shut the door.”
Sonny thanked the guard. “Okay,” he nodded. “You can go back downstairs.” Whatever confrontation was to occur with Dara would take place in complete privacy. Sonny wasn't naïve enough to think that the tension was over between them. Hopefully Dara was past her initial hurt and had moved on to anger. Anger was an emotion that Sonny was totally comfortable with. He was, some would say, fluent in it.
“Boss!” Max stood sentry at the penthouse entrance. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mrs. C is inside.”
“Yeah,” Sonny nodded. “Thanks, Max.” He didn't bother to remind the bodyguard that it was his call that had summoned Sonny to the penthouse.
Dara was exiting the kitchen as he entered. They both paused, frozen for a moment. “Michael.” Dara acknowledged his presence before continuing toward the small set of steps that would lead upstairs. She held a glass of juice and a small bowl of crackers in her hands.
“Can we talk?” Sonny asked quietly.
“Go ahead.” Dara made her way up the stairs. Sonny had no choice but to follow – or be left standing there alone in the middle of the living room. It was an unusual position to find himself in, the mob boss thought.
“I'm glad you came home,” Sonny said. “Now we can fix this.” He frowned when his wife continued on past their bedroom to the far end of the hall. Dara finally turned and faced him when she reached the door of the guest bedroom.
“I came home,” Dara corrected her husband, “because I realized that I had no reason to hide out in a hotel room. I,” she quietly emphasized, “was not the one who lied and took advantage of trust.” No trace of her thoughts was evident on her face. “Make no mistake, Michael. I am only here while I decide what my next move will be.” She opened the guest room door and slipped inside.
Sonny's jaw – and resolve - hardened when he heard the deliberate click of the door's lock.
