Chapter 7 - Midnight at Pier SeventeenAt 11:52 p.m., the East River looked like black glass.
This was disturbing for several reasons.
First, Dante Valenti had probably never operated a toaster.
Second, he was standing barefoot in Elena's kitchen wearing yesterday's shirt.
Third, he appeared to consider scrambled eggs an acceptable weapon.
Elena stared at the pan.
“What did those eggs do to you?”
Dante looked offended.
“They're cooked.”
“They're deceased.”
“They're eggs.”
“They're charcoal.”
He poured coffee instead.
That he could manage.
Elena sat at the counter with her father's letter.
Neither had slept much.
Federal agents still had the memory chip, but they had made a forensic copy.
At nine, Elena and Dante were expected downtown.
Before that, however, there was the matter neither of them had discussed.
His confession.
Not exactly a confession.
More like:
I considered firing every unmarried man in Manhattan.
Elena sipped coffee.
“So.”
Dante immediately looked suspicious.
“So?”
“What you said last night.”
“I said many things.”
“The Manhattan bachelor extinction event.”
He looked away.
Interesting.
Dante Valenti could face assassins without blinking but became uncomfortable discussing feelings.
Elena enjoyed this discovery.
“You've wanted to fire men because of me?”
“No.”
“You literally said—”
“I considered it.”
“That's worse.”
“Briefly.”
“How briefly?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“You timed it?”
“I was under stress.”
Elena smiled.
“Dante.”
He set down his cup.
“Yes?”
“Are you in love with me?”
Silence.
There it was.
No explosions.
No gunmen.
No secret tunnels.
Just one question capable of making Dante look more alarmed than anything from the previous day.
“Elena…”
She stood.
“If the answer is no, say no.”
His eyes met hers.
“I can't.”
Her heartbeat changed.
“Why?”
“Because it would be a lie.”
The room became very still.
Dante stepped closer.
“I have been in love with you for three years.”
Elena forgot how to breathe.
“Three?”
“Yes.”
“You never said anything.”
“You were my employee.”
“You threatened a restaurant owner because he gave me bad oysters.”
“He gave everyone bad oysters.”
“You sent six security guards to my apartment when my smoke detector malfunctioned.”
“It sounded serious.”
“You once bought the building across from mine.”
Dante said nothing.
Elena's mouth fell open.
“You bought it?”
“It was a good investment.”
“Dante.”
“Fine.”
She stared.
“Why?”
“To control the roof access.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody photographed you from there.”
“That was a fashion photographer.”
“He had a long lens.”
“He was photographing pigeons!”
“I don't trust pigeons.”
Elena laughed.
Then stopped.
“This is insane.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“I do.”
He moved closer.
“Elena, I knew my life was dangerous.”
“So you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
“You decided for me.”
“Yes.”
She looked away.
Dante's voice softened.
“I thought distance protected you.”
“How did that work?”
“Poorly.”
She almost smiled.
“Very poorly.”
He reached for her, then stopped before touching.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“I am not asking you for anything.”
She looked at him.
“Not now.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday you learned your fiancé betrayed you and your father was murdered.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“If I tell you how I feel and expect something in return, I'm no better than every man who used your confusion to get what he wanted.”
Elena stared.
She had expected possession.
Jealousy.
Demand.
Instead she got restraint.
“That might be the smartest thing you've ever said.”
“I find that insulting.”
“You should.”
A knock interrupted them.
Marco entered.
He looked at Dante barefoot.
Then Elena.
Then the destroyed eggs.
“I see survival has changed priorities.”
“Say whatever you came to say.”
Marco handed Dante a tablet.
“Nathan escaped federal transport.”
Dante's face changed.
“What?”
Elena stood.
“How?”
“Convoy ambush.”
“Casualties?”
“Two agents wounded. One driver killed.”
Dante swore.
Marco continued.
“He has help inside law enforcement.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
Elena grabbed her coat.
Dante looked at her.
“No.”
She stared.
He sighed.
“Right. Sorry.”
Marco almost smiled.
They drove to the federal office.
The chip was already connected to an isolated computer.
Agent Rebecca Shaw met them.
She was forty-something, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by Dante's reputation.
“Password?”
Elena unfolded her father's letter.
The number sequence looked like a date.
04121988.
Dante frowned.
“My birthday.”
Elena looked at him.
“April twelfth?”
“Yes.”
The remaining characters spelled:
EM0307
“My birthday,” Elena said.
“March seventh.”
Agent Shaw typed both.
The encrypted files opened.
Thousands of records appeared.
Bank transfers.
Names.
Photographs.
Audio files.
One folder was labeled:
D + E
Elena and Dante looked at each other.
Shaw opened it.
Inside were two photographs.
One showed seven-year-old Dante.
The other showed a baby.
Elena.
She stared.
“Our fathers knew each other before I was born.”
Dante nodded slowly.
A document opened.
It was written jointly by Vittorio Valenti and Robert Marlowe.
Elena read aloud.
If anything happens to us, these records should be delivered to federal authorities when Dante reaches thirty-eight or Elena reaches thirty-two, whichever occurs first.
Elena stopped.
“I turned thirty-two two months ago.”
Dante's eyes sharpened.
“That triggered something.”
Shaw nodded.
“Possibly an automated release.”
Another document appeared.
A trust.
Elena stared at the value.
“Is that…”
Dante leaned closer.
Forty-two million dollars.
Shaw whistled softly.
The trust listed two beneficiaries.
Dante Vittorio Valenti.
Elena Rose Marlowe.
Elena stepped back.
“No.”
Dante looked equally stunned.
Agent Shaw continued reading.
“The funds came from liquidated criminal assets Vittorio secretly diverted.”
Elena looked at Dante.
“Our fathers stole from the organization.”
“To create this.”
“A clean fund,” Shaw said.
“Seed money for something called Foundation Aurora.”
Dante opened another letter.
This one was from Vittorio.
His hands trembled slightly.
Elena noticed.
He read silently.
Then passed it to her.
Son, I built an empire that brought fear to our name. Robert reminded me that children deserve inheritance without blood on it.
If I fail, end what I started.
Build something worth leaving behind.
Dante sat.
For several seconds, the feared Dante Valenti looked simply like a son reading his dead father's final words.
Elena placed her hand over his.
He didn't move.
Then his fingers closed around hers.
Shaw tactfully looked elsewhere.
A computer alert sounded.
New file.
A recent upload.
Timestamp: eight minutes ago.
Shaw opened it.
A video appeared.
Nathan.
He sat inside a dark warehouse.
Behind him was Julian.
Bound to a chair.
Elena's stomach dropped.
Nathan smiled into the camera.
“Good morning.”
Dante's hand tightened around hers.
Nathan continued.
“If you're watching this, congratulations. You found Vittorio's little retirement plan.”
He leaned closer.
“I need the master access key.”
Dante looked at Shaw.
“What key?”
She shook her head.
Nathan continued.
“The trust cannot transfer without biometric confirmation from both beneficiaries.”
Elena felt cold.
Dante understood.
“Us.”
“Yes.”
Nathan smiled onscreen.
“Come to Pier Seventeen at midnight.”
The camera widened.
Julian's face was bruised.
His shoulder bandaged badly.
“If you don't…”
Nathan placed a gun against Julian's head.
“…Elena loses one fiancé.”
Julian lifted his head.
His voice was rough.
“Don't come.”
Nathan struck him.
Elena flinched.
Dante's expression became murderous.
Nathan looked into the camera.
“And Dante?”
He smiled.
“I have something else you'll want.”
Another figure was dragged into view.
Alessandro.
Blood on his face.
Dante stood.
Nathan smiled wider.
“Midnight.”
The video ended.
Shaw said immediately:
“You're not going.”
Dante looked at her.
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
Elena spoke.
“So am I.”
Dante turned.
“You absolutely—”
She raised one eyebrow.
He stopped.
“Right.”
Marco hid a smile.
Dante exhaled.
“I hate personal growth.”
Elena looked at the black screen.
Julian had betrayed her.
But he had also taken a bullet to protect her.
Alessandro had spent twelve years being blamed for his brother's murder.
Nathan had already stolen enough years from all of them.
Elena closed her father's letter.
“This ends tonight.”
Dante looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something stronger.
Partnership.
For the first time, Dante didn't stand in front of her.
He stood beside her.
“Together,” he said.
May you like
Elena nodded.
“Together.”
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