Chapter 6 - THE NEON ROSE
The drive to Brooklyn was a blur of adrenaline and silence.
The attack on the estate had been repelled by Adrian's reinforcements, but the damage was done. The peace treaty was dead. Moretti had crossed the line, and David had provided the map.
We pulled up to a dark, industrial block in Williamsburg. The Neon Rose didn't have a sign, just a heavy steel door guarded by two massive men in cheap suits.
"You stay in the car," Adrian told me as Marcus checked his magazines.
"No." I unbuckled my seatbelt. My hands were finally steady. I still held the gun he had given me. "He ruined my life, Adrian. I'm not waiting in a car while you fix it. I need him to look at me."
Adrian studied my face in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. He saw the resolve there, the eighteen months of humiliation and struggle hardening into steel.
He nodded slowly. "Stay behind Marcus."
We moved toward the entrance. Marcus didn't bother with conversation. He raised his weapon, and the two guards at the door immediately put their hands up, stepping aside. They knew a losing battle when they saw one.
The inside of the club was a sensory assault. Purple neon lights, the heavy thump of bass, the smell of expensive vodka and cheap perfume. But the main floor was completely empty of patrons.
At the far end, in a VIP booth elevated above the floor, sat Victor Moretti.
He was older, gray-haired, with the thick neck of a former boxer.
And standing next to him, holding a glass of scotch, was David.
He looked exactly the same. The same perfect hair, the same expensive suit he couldn't afford, the same arrogant posture.
When David saw me walking behind Adrian, the glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.
"Elara?" David gasped, his face draining of color.
"Hello, David," I said, my voice carrying over the music Marcus had just cut off.
Victor Moretti laughed, a dry, rasping sound. "Well, well. Vescari. I didn't think you'd survive the night. And you brought the collateral with you."
"The treaty is void, Victor," Adrian said, his voice echoing in the large room. His men fanned out, securing the perimeter. "You broke the truce. You sent men to my home."
"Your home?" Victor sneered. "I sent men to get the girl. David here promised me her life insurance policy would cover the rest of his debt. A neat little arrangement he set up right before he left her."
My stomach turned.
Life insurance.
That was why he left suddenly. That was why he paid the premium for two years. He didn't just want to escape the debt; he wanted to cash in on my death to pay off the mob.
"You sick coward," I whispered, staring at the man I had almost married.
David held his hands up, stepping away from Victor. "Elara, baby, listen to me. They were going to kill me! I had to give them something. I was going to come back for you, I swear!"
"You hired a man to stab me in a restaurant tonight," I said, my voice shaking with rage, not fear.
"I had to make it look like a mugging!" David pleaded, his eyes darting frantically. "If it looked like a mob hit, the insurance wouldn't pay out! It was just business, El! You always understood business!"
Adrian moved so fast I barely registered it. He grabbed David by the lapels of his suit and slammed him onto the glass table in the center of the booth. The table cracked loudly.
"Adrian!" Victor shouted, his men raising their weapons.
"Stand down, Victor," Adrian commanded, not looking away from David. "You want a war over this pathetic excuse for a man? You want to lose your docks, your ships, your entire operation over his debt?"
Victor hesitated. He looked at David, then at Adrian's heavily armed men. Victor was a businessman first. He did the math.
"He owes me four hundred and fifty grand," Victor said slowly.
Adrian reached into his coat and pulled out a thick, sealed envelope. He tossed it onto Victor's chest.
"The deeds to the South Point warehouses," Adrian said. "Worth triple his debt. Take it. The debt is settled. David Aris belongs to me now."
Victor checked the envelope, smiled, and waved his men back. "Pleasure doing business, Adrian. He's all yours."
David began to sob, struggling against Adrian's grip. "Elara, please! Don't let him kill me!"
Adrian pulled David up and shoved him toward me. David stumbled, falling to his knees right at my feet.
Adrian stepped back, crossing his arms. He looked at me, giving me the floor. Giving me my power back.
"Elara," David begged, grabbing the hem of my coat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
I looked down at the man who had broken me. The man who made me work double shifts, who made me sell my grandmother's necklace, who tried to have me killed for an insurance payout.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tarnished sapphire necklace.
I dropped it on the floor next to his hand.
"I don't want you dead, David," I said coldly.
David looked up, hope flashing in his eyes. "Thank you. Oh, thank you—"
"I want you to live," I interrupted, leaning down to his ear. "I want you to live knowing that you have absolutely nothing. Adrian has the debt. Which means he owns you. You're going to work in one of his warehouses. For minimum wage. You're going to pay off every single penny you stole from me. And if you ever try to run..."
I looked up at Adrian. Adrian smiled, a slow, predatory grin.
"...he will find you," I finished.
David slumped against the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
I turned my back on him and walked toward the door. I didn't look back. I didn't need to.
As I stepped out into the cool night air, the heavy steel door closed behind me.
I stopped on the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. For the first time in eighteen months, my chest didn't feel tight. The crushing weight of the debt, the fear, the betrayal—it was gone.
The door opened again, and Adrian stepped out. He didn't speak immediately. He walked over to the SUV and opened the passenger door for me.
"Where are we going?" I asked, looking at him.
"Home," Adrian said quietly. "Mia is waiting. She wants to show you her other drawings."
I looked at this man—a mafia boss, an executive, a protector. He had bought my debt just to give me the choice of how to handle it. He had treated me with more respect in a few hours than David had in three years.
I climbed into the car.
Adrian shut the door, walking around to the driver's side. As he got in, he reached over and gently took my hand. His callouses rubbed against my skin, grounding and real.
"No more waitressing," he said softly.
"I don't know," I smiled slightly, leaning back against the leather seat. "I was getting pretty good at it."
May you like
"You're meant for bigger rooms, Elara," he said, putting the car in drive.
As we drove back across the bridge toward Westchester, the rain finally stopped. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, washed clean. I squeezed Adrian's hand, feeling the solid warmth of it, and for the first time in a very long time, I looked forward to tomorrow.
