Chương 6 - The Velvet Trap
Every eye in that vast, glass-walled penthouse swung directly toward me.
Marco Rossi’s predatory gaze bore into my face like a drill, while Daniel and the guards stationed around the perimeter shifted their weight, their hands tensing on their weapons. The sheer pressure in the room was enough to crush the air from my lungs.
My mouth was dry, but I looked down at the mahogany box on the table, remembering the chaotic minutes before Vanessa slammed the heavy oak door on my hand.
"The velvet lining," I said, my voice trembling at first before finding its rhythm. "When Mr. Keller opened the box on Miss Bellini’s desk, the velvet was midnight blue. Deep blue, with silver stitching along the inner rim."
Marco frowned, his eyes dropping to the box he had brought.
The interior lining of the mahogany box on the table was black. Jet black.
"A jeweler’s box is a jeweler’s box," Marco sneered, waving his hand dismissively. "Keller probably swapped the case when he transported it across the state line."
"No," Luca said, his voice dropping into a low, mocking purr. "Keller didn't swap the case, Marco. Because that box didn't come from my vault. It came from the Bellini family collection."
Marco went completely still. "What did you say?"
"Arturo Bellini had an identical replica commissioned in Paris fifteen years ago," Luca explained, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the glass table. "He used it as collateral for a private loan from a cartel out of Juarez. When my mother saw it, she laughed at him. She told him that only an amateur would attempt to replicate fifty-carat Colombian emeralds with heat-treated Russian synthetic beryl."
Marco snatched the necklace from the velvet cushion, holding the massive green teardrops up to the sunlight streaming through the penthouse windows.
He stared at the facets, his breathing turning ragged.
"You're bluffing," Marco hissed, though panic was beginning to seep through his arrogant veneer. "Keller was a certified appraiser. He verified the weight, the platinum purity, the setting—"
"Keller was an opportunist who wanted a quick payout," Luca countered. "And Vanessa knew exactly what she was giving him. She didn't steal my mother's necklace, Marco. She stole her father’s worthless fake to pay off her debts to you, while the genuine Caterina Moretti necklace never left my possession."
Marco slammed the necklace onto the glass table. The heavy synthetic stones rattled against the surface.
"If you had the real necklace the entire time," Marco snarled, rising from his chair, his hands clenching into fists, "why did you let Keller walk out of your house? Why did you let my men trail him? Why this whole charade?!"
"Because," Luca said, standing up to meet Marco’s fury, "I needed to know how deep the rot went. I needed to see whether Arturo was plotting against me, or if he was simply too pathetic to control his own daughter. And most importantly, I needed you to show your hand in broad daylight."
Luca motioned to the corner of the ceiling.
A tiny red light blinked inside the recessed ventilation grate.
"Federal agents have been monitoring my shipping terminals for three months, Marco," Luca said smoothly. "Looking for an excuse to seize my docks. By bringing stolen syndicate property across state lines and attempting to extort my Gary transit corridors in an office wired for audio and video, you just gave the Department of Justice everything they need to dismantle your entire South Side operation."
Marco’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson. "You son of a bitch! You brought the Feds into our business?! That violates every law of the Commission!"
"The Commission is dead," Luca whispered, stepping around the table until he stood mere inches from Marco. "The old ways died the moment you put a bullet in a man's chest and rolled his corpse to my gate. Now, you have two choices."
Luca held up one finger. "One: You walk out of this building, wait for the FBI to kick your front door off its hinges before nightfall, and spend the rest of your miserable life in a federal penitentiary in Colorado."
He held up a second finger. "Two: You sign over your territory west of the river to me, right now. In exchange, the recording of this meeting disappears, and you take an extended, permanent retirement to Sicily."
Marco trembled with absolute, murderous rage. His hand twitched toward his coat, but before his fingers could even graze his lapel, Daniel was behind him, the cold barrel of a suppressed Glock pressed firmly against the base of Marco’s skull.
"Don't do it, Don Rossi," Daniel murmured softly in his ear. "I've had a very long night, and my trigger finger is twitching."
Marco closed his eyes, his chest heaving. The silence stretched for ten agonized seconds.
Finally, the old mobster slumped his shoulders, defeated.
"Bring the papers," Marco spat out bitterly.
Twenty minutes later, Marco Rossi signed his empire away with a trembling hand and was escorted out the private service elevator, stripped of his power, his dignity, and his city.
When the heavy doors clicked shut, the penthouse fell silent once more.
Luca stood by the glass window, looking down at the river below. The fury that had radiated from him all morning seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a weary, solitary figure.
I sat back in my chair, my heart still racing from the sheer audacity of what I had just witnessed. "Mr. Moretti?"
He turned slowly. "Nora."
"Did you... did you really have the genuine necklace the whole time?" I whispered.
Luca walked back over to the table. He reached out and gently picked up the synthetic necklace that Marco had left behind.
He looked down at me, a strange, enigmatic shadow crossing his face.
"No," Luca admitted quietly.
My breath caught. "What?"
"The genuine necklace is missing," Luca confessed, his voice so low that even Daniel couldn't hear. "Vanessa didn't give it to Keller. And it wasn't in Arturo’s safe. Someone took my mother’s necklace out of the vault four days ago, Nora. And whoever took it knows this city’s underworld better than Marco, better than Arturo, and better than me."
I stared at him in utter shock. "Then why did you just tell Marco—"
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"Because in this life, you never let the wolves know you're bleeding," Luca said softly. He reached out and gently cupped my chin, his thumb brushing my cheek. "Whoever stole it is going to bring it to the wedding tomorrow. They want to see who will wear it. And tomorrow, Nora... that person is going to be you."
***
