Chapter 7 - The Car She Chose to Enter
Six months later, Fiore D’Oro looked exactly as it had before the explosion.
Mahogany.
White tablecloths.
Warm lights.
Expensive wine.
But Ellie’s life had changed.
Not because Nicholas bought her an apartment.
He offered.
She refused.
Not because he paid her debts.
He offered that too.
She refused again.
Instead, Nicholas did something far more difficult.
He respected her answer.
Ellie enrolled in business school using money she had saved herself.
She still worked three nights a week at Fiore D’Oro.
Nicholas still occupied the corner table.
Except now he sometimes carried plates when the restaurant became busy.
The staff had stopped staring.
Mostly.
One Friday evening, Ellie approached his table.
“You’re in my section.”
“I requested it.”
“You always request it.”
“I’m consistent.”
“Annoying.”
“That too.”
She placed his coffee down.
Nicholas looked toward the window.
“Come outside.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
Ellie followed him.
A black Mercedes waited at the curb.
She stopped.
“No.”
Nicholas smiled.
“Look closer.”
She did.
The vehicle was new.
Perfect.
Untouched.
“You bought another one?”
“Yes.”
“After what happened?”
“I refuse to be intimidated by German engineering.”
Ellie laughed.
Nicholas handed her the keys.
She stared at them.
“What?”
“It’s yours.”
Her expression changed immediately.
“Nicholas.”
“Before you say no—”
“No.”
He sighed.
“I predicted that.”
“Then why ask?”
“I’m practicing disappointment.”
She tried returning the keys.
He closed her fingers around them.
“Not a gift.”
“What?”
“A loan.”
“For what?”
Nicholas looked toward the restaurant.
“You graduate next month.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes.
“How do you know that?”
“I listen.”
“You investigate.”
“Occasionally.”
“Nicholas.”
He smiled.
“Your internship is in Brooklyn. Your subway commute is terrible. Use the car until graduation.”
Ellie looked at the Mercedes.
Then beneath the dashboard.
Nicholas folded his arms.
“Seriously?”
“Always.”
“No red wires?”
“None.”
Ellie straightened.
“One month.”
“Deal.”
She opened the driver-side door.
Then stopped.
Six months earlier, she had screamed at Nicholas not to enter a car.
Now he stood beside her, alive because she had noticed something everyone else missed.
Nicholas touched her hand.
“You okay?”
Ellie looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
She smiled.
“Get in.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Is that an invitation?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
Nicholas walked around to the passenger side.
Before entering, he stopped.
“Ellie?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
She stared at him.
Nicholas Pellagrini—the man restaurant owners feared, the man whose own family had betrayed him, the man who once believed loyalty could only be purchased—looked genuinely uncertain.
Ellie smiled.
“That took you long enough.”
Nicholas blinked.
“That’s your answer?”
“No.”
She leaned across the console and kissed him softly.
Then she whispered:
“That’s my answer.”
Nicholas smiled.
Ellie started the engine.
Nothing exploded.
She glanced at him.
“See?”
“See what?”
“Sometimes getting into the car works out.”
Nicholas reached for her hand.
“Drive.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
Ellie pulled away from Fiore D’Oro.
Behind them, Manhattan lights reflected across the rain-dark street where everything had nearly ended six months earlier.
Instead, it had begun there.
With one red wire.
Three seconds.
May you like
And a waitress brave enough to shout—
“Don’t get in.”
