Chapter 7 - The Woman in the Green Dress
Roman Costa died for forty-seven seconds.
Gemma learned that number later.
Forty-seven.
Less than a minute.
Long enough to divide her life into two parts.
Before she loved him.
And after she almost lost him.
The bullet had entered beneath Roman's ribs after ricocheting from a steel beam.
Emergency surgery lasted five hours.
Gemma sat in the hospital waiting room wearing Roman's blood on her clothes.
Dominic sat beside her.
Neither spoke.
At 6:18 in the morning, a surgeon appeared.
Gemma stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
"Mr. Costa survived surgery."
Her knees nearly failed.
"But the next twenty-four hours are critical."
Roman survived them.
Then another twenty-four.
On the third morning, Gemma sat beside his bed.
His hand moved.
She looked up.
Roman's eyes opened.
His voice was barely audible.
"Green."
Gemma leaned closer.
"What?"
"The dress."
She laughed through tears.
"You almost died and you're thinking about my dress?"
Roman's mouth moved into the faintest smile.
"It caused a lot of trouble."
Gemma pressed her forehead against his hand.
"You caused the trouble."
"Probably."
"You died."
Roman blinked.
"Temporarily."
"Don't joke."
"Wasn't."
She laughed and cried at the same time.
Roman looked at her.
"You stayed."
"Of course."
"You shouldn't."
Gemma raised her head.
"If you finish that sentence, I will unplug something."
Roman wisely stopped talking.
Vincent Moretti survived too.
Federal prosecutors charged him with conspiracy, racketeering, murder, attempted murder, bribery, money laundering, and enough additional crimes to guarantee he would likely die in prison.
The evidence Antonio had collected dismantled several criminal networks.
Politicians resigned.
Police officers were arrested.
Businesses collapsed.
And Roman made a decision nobody expected.
He cooperated.
Not completely.
Roman Costa would never become an informant in the traditional sense.
But he provided enough financial evidence to dismantle the parts of his organization connected to Vincent.
In exchange, prosecutors declined several charges they lacked sufficient independent evidence to prove.
Roman sold the shipping interests.
Closed illegal gambling operations.
Separated legitimate companies from criminal ones.
Dominic became president of Costa Logistics.
Legally.
He complained that taxes were worse than organized crime.
Gemma laughed when Roman told her.
Six months passed.
Spring arrived in New York.
Gemma returned to the gallery.
The broken partition had been removed.
Roman had ordered the brass fitting preserved.
Gemma discovered it displayed inside a glass case.
A tiny plaque beneath it read:
THE MOST EXPENSIVE PIECE OF METAL IN NEW YORK
Gemma stared at Roman.
"You did not."
He stood behind her in a dark suit.
No holster.
"Technically Dominic did."
"You're lying."
"Yes."
Gemma laughed.
The gallery had changed.
Roman had changed too.
Not completely.
Men still became nervous when he entered rooms.
Roman still noticed exits.
Still sat with his back to walls whenever possible.
Still woke occasionally from nightmares he refused to describe.
But now he came home.
To someone.
Gemma moved into his penthouse slowly.
First a toothbrush.
Then clothes.
Then restoration tools.
Then plants Roman claimed he disliked but watered whenever she forgot.
His fortress became a home almost by accident.
One evening, Gemma found him standing before the painting that had contained Antonio's evidence.
"You kept it."
Roman nodded.
"Couldn't sell it."
"Why?"
"Too much history."
Gemma stood beside him.
"My father destroyed a lot of lives."
"He also saved some."
"My mother lied."
"To protect you."
Gemma looked at Roman.
"And your father wasn't your father."
Roman considered it.
"Vittorio raised me."
"Do you hate him?"
"Sometimes."
"Love him?"
Roman's answer took longer.
"Sometimes."
Gemma nodded.
"People are complicated."
"So you keep telling me."
"It's my most annoying quality."
"Not even close."
She elbowed him.
Roman caught her hand.
Then he became unusually serious.
"Gemma."
"What?"
"There's something I need to show you."
"Oh God."
Roman led her upstairs.
"Whenever you say that, somebody gets shot."
"Nobody is getting shot."
"That's exactly what somebody about to get shot would say."
He took her onto the rooftop terrace.
Gemma stopped.
Hundreds of tiny lights surrounded the space.
No guests.
No orchestra.
No photographers.
Only New York beneath them.
And Roman.
Gemma looked suspicious.
"What did you do?"
Roman reached inside his jacket.
"Technically, nothing yet."
He lowered himself onto one knee.
Gemma covered her mouth.
"Roman."
"I had a speech."
"You?"
"Dominic wrote most of it."
She laughed.
"I knew it."
"I threw it away."
"Better."
Roman looked up at her.
The man who once controlled rooms by entering them now looked almost nervous.
"Before you, I thought survival was enough."
Gemma's smile faded.
Roman continued.
"I had money. Power. People who feared me."
He paused.
"And I mistook all of that for having a life."
Gemma's eyes filled.
"Then you destroyed an emerald dress."
"I did not destroy it."
"My building did."
"Same thing."
Roman smiled.
"Fine."
He opened the box.
Inside was a simple, elegant diamond ring.
"You walked into my gallery carrying a wooden crate, cursed at me, refused my driver, accused me of being creepy, and somehow made me realize how empty everything was."
Gemma wiped away a tear.
"Very romantic."
"I'm trying."
"I can tell."
Roman's voice softened.
"You once asked what I am."
Gemma remembered.
Roman looked directly into her eyes.
"I know the answer now."
"What?"
"Yours."
Gemma started crying.
Roman swallowed.
"Gemma Bellini, will you marry me?"
She waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Roman's confidence began disappearing.
"Gemma?"
She smiled.
"I wanted to see what Roman Costa looks like when he's scared."
"Gemma."
"Yes."
Roman stood.
She threw her arms around him.
"Yes."
He kissed her.
For once, Roman Costa forgot to check the exits.
One year later, the gallery was filled again.
But not with investors.
Flowers covered the marble staircase.
Dominic stood beside Roman.
Sofia carried flowers.
And Gemma appeared at the top of the stairs.
She wore white.
Roman forgot how to breathe.
Dominic leaned toward him.
"Don't pass out."
"Shut up."
Gemma walked toward Roman.
Halfway down the aisle, she stopped.
Roman frowned.
Gemma looked toward the wall.
There, inside its ridiculous glass display, remained the brass fitting that had torn her dress.
She started laughing.
Soon the entire room laughed with her.
Roman shook his head.
When she reached him, he took her hands.
"What's funny?"
"You."
"Why?"
"Because you still kept it."
Roman glanced toward the display.
"Best investment I ever made."
The ceremony was small.
No reporters.
No business partners Roman didn't trust.
No political figures.
Only people who mattered.
Later that night, after everyone had gone, Gemma returned to the empty gallery.
She found Roman standing exactly where he had stood the first night.
Near the marble staircase.
"You following me again?" she asked.
Roman turned.
"Always."
"Creepy."
"You married me."
"Temporary lapse in judgment."
Roman smiled.
Gemma walked toward him.
She wore his black cashmere coat over her wedding dress.
Roman noticed.
"You kept that too."
"Of course."
"I thought you hated it."
"I hated the man who gave it to me."
Roman raised an eyebrow.
"For approximately twenty minutes."
"Long twenty minutes."
Gemma slipped her arms around his waist.
Outside, Manhattan glowed beyond the windows.
Roman looked around the empty gallery.
Once, he had stood there believing that power meant making rooms fall silent.
Now he understood something his father never had.
Power could make people fear losing you.
Love made you fear losing them.
And somehow, that fear didn't make Roman weaker.
It made him human.
Gemma rested her head against his chest.
"Do you ever think about that night?"
"Every day."
"The dress?"
"The woman wearing it."
Gemma smiled.
"Smooth."
"I've had practice."
She looked up.
"Roman?"
"Hm?"
"What would have happened if my dress hadn't caught on that stupid piece of metal?"
Roman thought about it.
Antonio might still have returned.
Vincent might still have betrayed him.
The evidence might eventually have surfaced.
But Gemma?
Perhaps they would have passed each other.
Two strangers living in the same enormous city.
Roman touched her cheek.
"I don't like that version of the story."
"Neither do I."
He kissed her forehead.
Gemma looked toward the painting her father had restored.
For years, she had believed damaged things needed to be returned exactly to what they had been before.
Restoration had taught her otherwise.
Every repaired canvas carried evidence of what happened to it.
Tiny cracks remained.
Colors changed.
Scars survived beneath fresh varnish.
The goal wasn't to erase history.
It was to preserve something beautiful despite it.
Maybe people were the same.
Gemma had lost her mother.
Found and lost her father.
Discovered that much of her childhood had been constructed from lies.
Roman had discovered that the name defining his entire life wasn't even truly his.
Neither could change those things.
But they could decide what happened next.
Roman took her hand.
"Ready to go home?"
Gemma looked at him.
Home.
For most of Roman's life, the word had meant a building with guards.
For Gemma, it had once meant a tiny Brooklyn apartment filled with unfinished paintings.
Now it meant neither.
"Yeah," she whispered.
"I'm ready."
They walked toward the doors.
Gemma stopped suddenly.
"What?"
Roman asked.
She looked down dramatically.
"My dress."
Roman immediately looked.
Gemma burst out laughing.
"Got you."
Roman stared at her.
"That wasn't funny."
"It absolutely was."
He pulled her toward him.
She laughed harder.
And for perhaps the first time in his adult life, Roman Costa's laughter filled an empty room without anyone becoming afraid.
Outside, snow began falling over Manhattan.
Inside, the woman in the emerald dress had finally discovered why the dangerous stranger had followed her that first night.
At first, Roman had thought he was protecting her.
Neither of them understood the truth yet.
She had walked into his world by accident.
And somewhere between a torn dress, an oversized black coat, buried family secrets, betrayal, bullets, and a love neither had been looking for...
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Gemma had saved him too.
THE END
