Chapter 6 - Sunrise in Brooklyn and the New Empire
The Brooklyn brownstone smelled of aged cedar, old books, and roasting coffee beans.
Unlike the cold, sterile marble and glass fortress on Central Park South, this house had a soul. The walls were lined with fading black-and-white photographs of old-world Italian immigrants, ship captains, and tough-looking men who had built the New York docks with calloused hands and unbreakable codes of honor.
Dawn was breaking over the East River, painting the sky in pale shades of amber and bruised violet.
Celia stood by the tall, lace-curtained window of the second-floor bedroom, watching the early morning light catch the suspension cables of the Manhattan Bridge in the distance. She held a ceramic mug of hot coffee between both hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.
The door clicked open softly.
Vincent walked in, carrying a tray with a plate of warm pastries and fresh fruit. He had changed into a simple gray sweater and dark denim, the sharp, dangerous edge of the mafia boss softened slightly by the quiet intimacy of the room.
“Is he still sleeping?” Celia asked, nodding toward the adjoining room where Leo was tucked safely into a vintage brass bed.
“Like a rock,” Vincent replied, setting the tray down on the wooden nightstand. He walked over to stand beside her by the window. “Sterling checked him an hour ago. Vital signs are normal. The neurotoxin is completely out of his system. In a few days, he’ll be running around the backyard like nothing ever happened.”
“And the board?” Celia asked, looking up at him. “What happened in the city while we were driving here?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened slightly, though his expression remained calm.
“Tommy and the loyalists executed a synchronized takeover of the primary shipping terminals at Red Hook and Port Newark before dawn,” Vincent said evenly. “By the time the board members woke up in their Hamptons estates, their corporate accounts were frozen, their proxy votes had been nullified by emergency shareholder filings, and Simon was sitting in a federal holding cell awaiting extradition on federal racketeering charges.”
Celia let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding since 1 a.m. in that rainy alley in Hell’s Kitchen.
“It’s over, then?”
“The war for the syndicate is over,” Vincent said, turning to face her fully. He reached out, his warm fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The casual touch sent a sudden, electric shiver down Celia’s spine. “The board thought they could buy my empire by breaking my family. They forgot that empires aren't built on board resolutions. They’re built on blood and loyalty.”
He dropped his hand, stepping back just enough to give her space, though his dark eyes never left hers.
“And as for you, Celia Jace...”
“Let me guess,” she interrupted with a faint, wry smile. “I’m trapped here forever because I know too much about the Romano shipping logistics?”
“No,” Vincent said, a genuine, rare smile breaking across his handsome face, transforming his harsh features into something warm and devastatingly attractive. “You’re free to go whenever you want. Your mother’s debt is cleared. Your Queens apartment is paid up for the next five years. And if you ever want to walk away from Mel’s Diner, I have a foundation managing our European philanthropic holdings that is currently looking for a brilliant, fiercely independent director with a talent for crisis management.”
Celia stared at him, stunned.
“You’re offering me a job?”
“I’m offering you a choice,” Vincent corrected softly, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest. “You walked into a dark alley in Hell’s Kitchen and saved my son’s life when no one else would. You stood your ground against armed hitmen in my penthouse. You didn't flinch when my world came crashing down around you.”
He reached out, taking her hand, his thumb gently tracing the knuckles of her fingers.
“I don't let people like you walk away, Celia. Not because you know my secrets... but because you’re the only person who brought light into a house that had been living in the dark for far too long.”
Celia looked down at their joined hands, then up into Vincent’s dark, intense eyes.
The rain had finally stopped over New York City. Through the lace curtains of the Brooklyn brownstone, the morning sun broke fully through the clouds, casting a golden glow across the antique floors, the old photographs, and the start of a brand-new world.
May you like
She squeezed his hand back, a slow, radiant smile spreading across her face.
“Well,” Celia whispered, her heart skipping a beat as she leaned in just a fraction closer. “I suppose I never did like working the night shift at Mel’s anyway.”
