Chapter 8 - THE UNCLE WHO BUILT HIS POWER ON A FUNERAL
Corrado Moretti was arrested eleven days later.
Not for being a mafia boss.
Not because Dante ordered it.
Not because Luca returned dramatically to family dinner.
Because evidence existed.
Financial fraud.
Trust diversion.
Obstruction.
Conspiracy tied to the Red Hook fire investigation.
Witness intimidation.
Charges did not include Michael Parker’s death.
There was not enough proof.
Gia was glad prosecutors did not stretch.
Her father deserved truth, not theatrical certainty.
Corrado surrendered through counsel.
No shootout.
No men disappearing.
No warehouse revenge.
Dante watched from his office television.
Marco stood beside.
Gia was not there.
She had work.
A museum benefit.
Real life.
That mattered.
Dante called only after arrest was public.
“He surrendered.”
“I saw.”
“How do you feel?”
Gia stood on ladder adjusting a suspended floral structure.
“Busy.”
Dante laughed.
“No.”
“Specific.”
Gia smiled.
“Relieved.”
“Angry.”
“Sad.”
“Not victorious.”
“Same.”
“Good.”
She stopped.
“You did that on purpose.”
“Yes.”
“Terrible.”
He laughed.
Then:
“Dinner?”
Gia’s heart shifted.
They had held hands twice since family meeting.
Nothing else.
He had not pushed.
“Like food?”
“That is usually dinner.”
“Is this a date?”
“Yes.”
Direct.
“Do I owe you because my father’s name is being cleared?”
“No.”
“Because you provided security?”
“No.”
“Because you helped retrieve documents?”
“No.”
“Because you want me?”
“Yes.”
Gia almost smiled.
“Better.”
“Is that a yes?”
“One dinner.”
“Public.”
“No back room owned by cousin.”
Dante sighed.
“That eliminates much of Manhattan.”
“Try.”
He chose a tiny Lebanese restaurant in Brooklyn.
No bodyguards at table.
Marco outside.
Gia insisted Dante not buy restaurant.
He looked offended.
“I was not planning.”
“Your family owns things accidentally.”
“Fair.”
The date went unexpectedly well.
That annoyed Gia.
Dante was funny.
Dry.
Observant.
He knew wine but did not lecture.
He asked about her company.
Actually listened.
Gia talked about weddings.
Logistics.
Why people always underestimated event production because final result looked beautiful instead of operational.
Dante said:
“Sounds like organized crime with flowers.”
She stared.
He smiled.
“That was joke.”
“Disturbingly accurate.”
They laughed.
Then Gia asked:
“Have you killed anyone?”
The table beside went quiet because she did not whisper enough.
Dante stared.
“Direct.”
“You asked for date.”
“I’m gathering data.”
His expression sobered.
“No.”
“Ordered?”
A pause.
“Not murder.”
Gia waited.
Dante continued.
“I have ordered men threatened.”
“Jobs ruined.”
“Contracts squeezed.”
“People frightened.”
“When I was younger, one collection became violent after I authorized pressure.”
“Did you expect?”
“I knew possible.”
“So yes.”
“Yes.”
Gia’s stomach tightened.
“Anyone badly hurt?”
“One man had broken jaw.”
“Another concussion.”
“Years ago.”
“Did you face consequence?”
“Not enough.”
“Meaning?”
“I paid settlements.”
“Removed men.”
“Changed operations.”
“But no court.”
“No.”
Gia leaned back.
“You’re telling me because?”
“You asked.”
“Would you have told if I didn’t?”
“If relationship continued, yes.”
She studied.
“Why should I trust?”
“You shouldn’t yet.”
Annoyingly correct.
Then Dante asked:
“Have you ever done something you’re ashamed of?”
Gia laughed.
“Compared to broken jaws?”
“No comparison.”
“Your scale.”
She thought.
“I once fired a woman because a client said she was difficult.”
“She wasn’t.”
“She was blunt.”
“I wanted account.”
“What happened?”
“She lost health insurance while her son was sick.”
Dante said nothing.
Gia continued.
“I rehired later.”
“She refused.”
“Good for her.”
“Yes.”
“I changed policy.”
“Still.”
She stared at table.
“I think about it.”
Dante nodded.
“No comfort?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
Two people.
Not hero and woman.
Not mafia boss and witness.
People with choices that had harmed others.
That was strangely safer.
After dinner, he walked her to car.
No kiss.
Gia raised eyebrow.
“You don’t want to?”
“I do.”
“And?”
“You said one dinner.”
“That did not prohibit kissing.”
“I am aware.”
“Then?”
Dante looked.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me if the rule changed.”
Her throat tightened.
She stepped closer.
“Kiss me.”
He did.
Gentle at first.
Then not.
Gia’s hand went to his coat.
Cashmere.
Of course.
She pulled away first.
Dante breathed.
“Still expensive?”
“Painfully.”
He laughed.
Then her phone rang.
Rebecca.
Gia answered.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
Rebecca sounded urgent.
“Gia.”
“What?”
“Corrado’s defense filed documents.”
“And?”
“They’re claiming Michael Parker was not merely Luca’s accountant.”
Gia stiffened.
“What are they saying?”
A pause.
“That Michael Parker was a secret beneficiary of San Vito because he was Salvatore Moretti’s illegitimate son.”
Gia stopped breathing.
Dante’s face changed.
“What?”
Gia stared at him.
If true—
Michael Parker would have been Dante’s half-brother.
And Gia—
Dante’s niece.
The entire street seemed to tilt.
Dante stepped back immediately.
Hands off.
No hesitation.
Good.
Gia covered mouth.
“Tell me that’s not true.”
Rebecca’s voice remained careful.
May you like
“I do not know yet.”
The kiss from thirty seconds earlier suddenly became the most horrifying thing either of them had done.
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