Chapter 10 - Blood on the Ivory Piano
At 7:15 AM, the Cadillac pulled up outside the Valente penthouse on Fifth Avenue, directly across from the granite spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
The penthouse had been cleared of staff. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the gray avenues of Manhattan, where morning yellow cabs were beginning to crawl through the sleet. In the grand salon sat a nine-foot Steinway ivory grand piano—a gift from Luca’s mother on his tenth birthday, preserved like a relic of a dead civilization.
Marco and three guards stood watch at the private elevator.
Luca had changed into a tailored charcoal three-piece suit, his gold cuff links catching the gray morning light. He stood beside the piano, strapping a leather shoulder holster beneath his jacket, his movements methodical and serene.
Mia was sitting on the piano bench, pressing a single low C key over and over, listening to the deep, resonant vibration.
Dunnn. Dunnn. Dunnn.
I stood beside her, adjusting the collar of her tiny coat. My heart was pounding against my ribs like a war drum.
“Luca,” I said, turning to him. “What happens when you walk through those cathedral doors?”
Luca paused, adjusting his silk tie. “The Commission consists of twelve men. Each commands an army of two thousand soldiers. If I go in firing, the city burns. If I go in alone, they might kill me before I reach the altar.”
“Then why go?” I pleaded, taking a step toward him. “We have the ledgers. We have the offshore accounts. We can board a cargo jet to South America right now. Mia and I... we don't need an empire. We just want to live.”
Luca looked at me, his eyes softening with an emotion so fierce it took my breath away. He closed the distance between us, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me against him.
“If I run, Elena, they hunt you for the rest of your life,” he said, his voice a low, steady vow against my forehead. “You would spend every night looking over your shoulder at gas stations, checking every shadow behind your daughter’s school. I won’t give you a life of running. I won’t give Mia a world where she has to be invisible.”
He leaned down and kissed me—not the frantic kiss of the docks, but a slow, deep claim that tasted of survival, power, and devotion. When he pulled away, my breath was ragged.
He looked over at Mia, who had stopped playing the piano and was watching us with her sunglasses tilted sideways.
“Little sparrow,” Luca said, kneeling beside the ivory bench.
Mia tilted her head. “Are you going to the big church, Don Luca?”
“I am,” Luca said. “And I need my vice president to do one more job for me.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the brass key she had retrieved from her bear, stringing it onto a fine gold chain. He looped the chain over Mia’s head, tucking the key safely inside her coat.
“If anyone asks who you belong to today,” Luca said, looking directly into her brown eyes, “what do you tell them?”
Mia puffed out her chest proudly, pushing her sunglasses up her tiny nose.
“I belong to Don Valente,” she declared firmly. “And vice presidents don't cry.”
Luca’s smile was radiant, fierce, and entirely fearless.
May you like
He stood up, buttoned his tailored jacket over his loaded weapon, and turned toward the elevator.
“Marco,” Luca commanded, his voice ringing through the grand penthouse. “Bring Julian out. It’s time to show the Five Families who rules New York.”
