Chapter 5 - The Cards on the Table
The interior of Dante’s office was a monument to modern intimidation. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping, panoramic view of the Boston harbor, while the walls were lined with dark oak bookshelves and museum-grade art.
I walked in without waiting for an invitation, stepping over the imported Persian rug and taking a seat in one of the leather armchairs opposite his massive mahogany desk.
Luca lingered by the doorway, looking like he wanted to argue, but a single, ice-cold glance from Dante sent him scurrying backward into the hallway, pulling the heavy double doors shut behind him.
Dante walked slowly around his desk, but instead of sitting in his high-backed executive chair, he leaned against the front edge of the wood, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I have to admit,” Dante said, a faint, mocking smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “When my compliance team flagged an anonymous hold on the La Luna Rossa audit files this morning, I checked the registry. I expected a rival restaurateur. I expected a lawyer from a local firm. I did not expect the girl who poured my San Pellegrino on Friday night to have backdoor override clearance on Meridian Holdings.”
I didn't flinch. I opened my leather portfolio, pulled out a single printed document, and laid it flat on the desk between us.
“And when I found out that a billionaire real estate heir was abusing corporate compliance protocols just to harass a student working her way through law school, I expected a little more originality, Mr. Greco,” I replied smoothly.
Dante looked down at the paper. It wasn't the audit notice. It was a complete financial breakdown of Greco Hospitality’s pending commercial loan applications—loans that were currently sitting on Viktor’s desk at Meridian, awaiting final signature.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Nora,” Dante said, his voice losing its playful edge, hardening into something sharp and dangerous. “The North End is changing. Small family restaurants are drowning in debt. La Luna Rossa is sitting on prime real estate that my development trust needs to revitalize the entire waterfront district. That apron was a costume. Why are you hiding down there?”
“I’m not hiding,” I said, meeting his dark gaze with unyielding defiance. “I’m observing. For three years, I’ve watched men like you and Luca treat my neighborhood like a game board—buying up leases, squeezing out local families, and acting like money gives you the right to disrespect everyone around you.”
Dante pushed off the desk, taking a slow step toward my chair. He towered over me, his shadow falling across my shoulders, but I didn't back down an inch.
“You think this is about ego?” Dante asked quietly, leaning down slightly so his face was only inches from mine. “You think I sent that audit because Luca insulted your pride?”
“Didn't you?”
“I sent that audit,” Dante whispered, his voice dark and intense, “because I wanted to see who you really were. No one speaks Sicilian with an aristocratic Palermo accent while carrying a tray of wine glasses unless they have a very interesting story to hide.”
“My story is none of your concern,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs despite my calm exterior. “Drop the audit on La Luna Rossa. Leave the restaurant alone.”
Dante straightened up, walking slowly back toward the window, looking out over the harbor as the afternoon sun began to dip below the horizon.
“And if I refuse?” he asked, turning his head back to look at me over his shoulder. “If I buy the building anyway? If I tear down your little restaurant to build my towers?”
I stood up slowly from the armchair, smoothing down the front of my blazer. I picked up my portfolio, tucked it under my arm, and walked toward the double doors.
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“Then you’ll find out, Mr. Greco,” I said, pausing with my hand on the brass handle, “that the girl in the apron isn't the only one who speaks Sicilian.”
I pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway, leaving Dante Greco standing in the center of his glass-walled empire, staring after me with a look of absolute, consuming fascination.
