Chapter 4 - The Compliment That Changed Everything
Paolo Conti had once taught Elena how to ride a bicycle.
He had been there when she broke her wrist at ten.
He had brought groceries after her mother died.
He had stood beside her father at every birthday Elena could remember until she was sixteen.
Then, shortly before Giovanni's death, Paolo disappeared.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
At the funeral, Elena had seen him standing across the cemetery beneath a black umbrella.
She tried reaching him afterward.
He was gone.
Now he had reappeared on a security recording at Milano Centrale, opening a locker her father had apparently hidden fifteen years earlier.
“This doesn't make sense,” Elena said.
They were back inside Luca's car.
Dario drove while Luca replayed the recording.
“Who is he?”
“Paolo Conti. My father's closest friend.”
“Did he work with Giovanni?”
“I thought they met at the repair shop.”
Luca paused the video.
“People don't usually wear gloves when opening train station lockers.”
Elena looked at Paolo's hands.
Black leather.
“He expected cameras.”
“Yes.”
“Can you find him?”
“Probably.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I don't make promises before I have information.”
Elena folded her arms.
“You enjoy being difficult.”
“Not particularly.”
“You're naturally gifted.”
He looked at her.
“Have you eaten?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Food.”
“I know what eating is.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Luca stared.
“Which meal?”
“Does coffee count?”
“No.”
“Then lunch.”
His expression suggested this was somehow personally offensive.
“You haven't eaten since lunch?”
“I've had champagne.”
“You served champagne.”
“I sampled quality control.”
Luca reached forward and tapped Dario's shoulder.
“Breakfast.”
Elena protested.
“We have more important things to do.”
“No.”
“My father's friend just stole whatever was inside that locker.”
“And eating breakfast will not return it.”
“I don't have time.”
“You'll make time.”
She turned toward the window.
“You really enjoy ordering me around.”
“No. I enjoy preventing people from fainting in my vehicles.”
“I have never fainted.”
“Good. Maintain the record.”
They stopped at a small café before sunrise.
The owner opened the door personally when he saw Luca.
Elena noticed that.
She noticed many things around Luca.
People didn't merely recognize him.
They adjusted themselves around him.
Voices lowered.
Doors opened.
Arguments disappeared.
It bothered her.
It also fascinated her.
They sat in a private corner.
Coffee arrived without Luca ordering.
So did pastries, eggs, fruit, and bread.
Elena stared at the table.
“This could feed eight people.”
“You haven't eaten.”
“That doesn't mean I became eight people.”
Luca poured coffee.
His phone rang.
He answered.
“Dario?”
Elena watched his face change.
“Where?”
Pause.
“Don't approach him.”
Another pause.
“Send me the address.”
He ended the call.
“Paolo?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A hotel near Porta Venezia.”
Elena stood.
Luca looked at her breakfast.
“No.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Sit.”
“Luca.”
“Elena.”
They stared at each other.
The café owner quietly disappeared into the kitchen.
Elena sat.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Eat.”
She took an angry bite of pastry.
“Happy?”
“Immensely.”
Ten minutes later they left.
By the time they reached the hotel, Paolo was gone.
The room had been paid in cash.
No luggage remained.
Only one thing sat on the bed.
A white envelope.
ELENA.
Her name was written across the front.
She reached for it.
Luca caught her wrist.
“Wait.”
Elena looked down at his hand.
He immediately released her.
“Sorry.”
That mattered.
She said nothing.
Dario checked the envelope before giving it to her.
Inside was a note.
Elena read aloud.
“Your father was trying to protect you. Don't trust anyone who tells you otherwise. Especially the Demirs.”
She looked at Luca.
He looked unsurprised.
“Convenient,” he said.
“There is more.”
She continued.
“If Luca has found you, ask him what happened in Verona on October ninth.”
Luca became still.
Elena lowered the letter.
“What happened in Verona?”
His face gave away nothing.
“Luca.”
“I was nineteen.”
“That wasn't the question.”
He looked toward Dario.
“Give us a minute.”
Dario left.
Elena waited.
Finally Luca said, “My father and Giovanni were supposed to meet a buyer in Verona.”
“For what?”
“A manuscript.”
“Stolen?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The buyer never arrived.”
“And?”
“A bomb exploded in a storage building nearby.”
Elena's stomach tightened.
“Was anyone killed?”
“Two guards.”
“My father?”
“Missing.”
“For how long?”
“Three days.”
“And you?”
“I found him.”
Elena stared.
“You found my father?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In a farmhouse outside the city.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That someone inside the organization had betrayed us.”
“Santi?”
“He wouldn't say.”
“Why?”
“He said speaking the name would put you in danger.”
Elena sat on the edge of the hotel bed.
“So he ran.”
“Yes.”
“And my father told me we moved because rent was cheaper.”
“He was trying to disappear.”
“What happened on October ninth that Paolo thinks changes everything?”
Luca looked toward the window.
“My father gave the order that sent Giovanni to Verona.”
Elena understood.
“You think your family caused it.”
“Yes.”
“Did they?”
“I don't know.”
She studied him.
“You could have hidden that.”
“I could hide many things.”
“That isn't comforting.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
Something about his honesty disarmed her.
Before she could respond, Luca's phone vibrated.
He checked it.
“Paolo boarded a train for Como.”
“We follow him.”
“No.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“You're about to say it's dangerous.”
“It is.”
“And I'm about to ignore you.”
“Yes.”
“Then we understand each other.”
Luca stared at her for a moment.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
They did not reach Como.
Halfway there, Luca received new information.
Paolo had exited the train at Monza and vanished into a waiting car.
The trail went cold.
By evening, Elena's frustration had become exhaustion.
Luca insisted she remain at his villa.
She insisted she was returning to work.
“You are not going back to the auction.”
“I have another shift.”
“No.”
“Is that your favorite word?”
“When you're involved, increasingly.”
“I need money.”
Luca looked at her as if she had said something absurd.
“You don't.”
“Yes, Luca. People without mysterious international art businesses generally need money.”
“You no longer owe Bellarosa.”
“Legally perhaps.”
“I'll handle Bellarosa.”
Elena's expression hardened.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I will not trade one man controlling my life for another.”
The words landed.
Luca said nothing for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“You're right.”
Elena hadn't expected that.
“What?”
“You're right.”
He walked to the desk, took out a card, and wrote something.
“An attorney. Independent. Not connected to me personally.”
He handed her the card.
“She specializes in predatory lending. Call her. If she confirms what I told you, she can handle the debt without my involvement.”
Elena stared at the card.
“Why?”
“Because you don't trust me.”
“Should I?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
Luca continued.
“Trust is earned.”
Elena looked at him.
Something shifted between them.
The next evening, despite Luca's disapproval, Elena returned to work.
Not at Palazzo Nero.
A legitimate charity gala on the rooftop of a luxury hotel.
Luca happened to be attending.
Elena suspected that coincidence was fake.
She wore a black satin dress instead of a server uniform because the event organizer had unexpectedly moved her from service staff to guest coordination.
For once, she looked less like someone carrying trays and more like someone who belonged among the guests.
Luca noticed.
He was speaking with two businessmen when Elena entered the rooftop terrace.
His words stopped.
Their eyes met.
For one second the room disappeared.
Then Elena looked away first.
She hated that her face felt warm.
An hour later, she stood near the champagne table when a man approached.
He was around thirty.
Handsome.
Polished.
Friendly rather than intimidating.
“Excuse me.”
Elena looked up.
“Yes?”
“I was told you're coordinating the guest list.”
“I am.”
“Matteo Rinaldi.”
He offered his hand.
“Elena Rossi.”
“I know.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds ominous.”
He smiled.
“It was printed on the staff badge.”
“Oh.”
Matteo laughed.
“You look disappointed.”
“Relieved.”
He glanced at her dress.
“May I say something without getting myself into trouble?”
“That depends entirely on what you say.”
“You look beautiful tonight.”
Elena hadn't expected it.
The compliment was simple.
Sincere.
Her cheeks warmed.
“Thank you.”
Matteo smiled.
Then his eyes moved over her shoulder.
His expression changed.
Elena knew who was behind her before she turned.
Luca stood several feet away.
Watching.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
Elena almost laughed.
Matteo cleared his throat.
“I suddenly remember I need champagne.”
“You're standing beside champagne.”
“Then I need different champagne.”
He left.
Elena turned fully toward Luca.
“You scared him.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't need to.”
Luca walked closer.
“Rinaldi.”
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“He seems nice.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
Elena saw it.
And then she understood.
A slow, mischievous smile appeared on her face.
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“That answer was very fast.”
“Because it required no consideration.”
“Of course.”
Luca stepped nearer.
“You're enjoying this.”
“A little.”
Behind him, fireworks began rising above Milan.
The first golden explosion reflected in the windows.
Guests turned toward the skyline.
Elena remained facing Luca.
Another firework bloomed.
Luca's gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Her smile vanished.
The air changed.
Neither moved.
Then Matteo returned with two champagne glasses.
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
“I thought you might—”
Luca placed one hand lightly at Elena's waist.
Matteo stopped.
Elena's heartbeat jumped.
She looked up at Luca.
His expression asked a question his words did not.
She could have stepped away.
She did not.
Luca leaned closer.
“Elena.”
Her breath caught.
“Yes?”
His voice was low.
“Tell me to stop.”
She should have.
Instead, Elena rose slightly onto her toes.
And in front of Matteo, the gala guests, half the Milan underworld, and a sky exploding with gold—
May you like
Luca kissed her.
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