Chapter 7 - The Piano by the Window
Six months later, the Blackstone ballroom looked different.
Not because the chandeliers had changed.
Not because the marble had changed.
Because nobody was afraid.
Luca Santoro faced federal charges for kidnapping, conspiracy, fraud, and attempted murder.
Daniel Voss accepted a plea agreement and became the government's principal witness.
Senator Richard Calloway resigned before his indictment was announced.
Victor Hale's records exposed years of corruption involving shell corporations and public officials.
Investigators confirmed Damien's signatures on the critical financial documents had been forged.
His legitimate companies survived.
The rest of his empire changed.
Warehouses connected to illegal operations closed.
Several businesses were sold.
Damien established an independent board to oversee Romano Shipping.
Newspapers called it rehabilitation.
Prosecutors called it cooperation.
Damien called it overdue.
Nora didn't care what anyone called it.
She cared that Claire was alive.
Claire returned to college.
She also developed an irritating habit of calling Nora every night.
"Where are you?"
"Work."
"At the Blackstone?"
"Yes."
"Is Damien there?"
Nora looked across the ballroom.
Damien stood beside the window.
"No."
Claire laughed.
"You're a terrible liar."
"Good night, Claire."
"Tell your boyfriend I said hello."
"He's not my boyfriend."
Damien looked over.
Claire apparently heard the silence.
"He's standing there, isn't he?"
"Goodbye."
Nora ended the call.
Damien approached.
"Boyfriend?"
"You heard that?"
"The entire ballroom heard that."
Nora covered her face.
"She's impossible."
"I like her."
"Of course you do."
Damien sat beside her.
The gala hadn't started yet.
They were alone except for staff preparing tables.
Nora looked at his hands.
"You haven't practiced."
"I've been busy."
"Excuses."
"I employ three thousand people."
"And apparently none can remind you to practice scales."
Damien smiled.
Six months ago, Nora wouldn't have believed he knew how.
Now she saw it frequently.
Not with politicians.
Not with reporters.
Not with businessmen.
With her.
Damien placed a small envelope on the piano.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
Inside was a contract.
Nora read the first line.
Then looked at him.
"The Bennett Music Foundation?"
"Scholarships for students who can't afford conservatory training."
"Damien..."
"Before you object, Claire already approved it."
"My sister approved my foundation?"
"She has strong opinions."
"You went behind my back."
"I prefer 'strategic consultation.'"
Nora continued reading.
The foundation would provide instruments, lessons, and scholarships for young musicians across Chicago.
At the bottom was one condition.
Nora Bennett would serve as artistic director.
She looked at him.
"I don't know what to say."
"That's new."
She laughed.
Then her eyes became wet.
Damien pretended not to notice.
"Why?"
He looked toward the piano.
"Because twenty years ago, I stopped playing after Elena died."
Nora listened.
"I thought music belonged to that part of my life. So I locked it away."
His fingers touched one key.
"Then a reckless pianist walked into a room full of armed men and demanded a duet."
"I asked politely."
"You absolutely did not."
Nora smiled.
Damien continued.
"You reminded me that remembering someone doesn't require becoming trapped in the moment you lost them."
Nora didn't answer immediately.
Then she placed the contract aside.
"Play."
"Now?"
"Now."
"The guests will arrive soon."
"Then you'd better hurry."
Damien loosened his cuffs.
"What piece?"
Nora considered it.
"Not Rachmaninoff."
He looked surprised.
"No?"
"That song belongs to your past."
She began a bright jazz progression.
Damien listened.
Then joined.
At first, his timing was cautious.
Nora nudged his shoulder.
"Stop thinking."
"That's terrible advice."
"For a businessman, yes."
She accelerated.
"For a pianist?"
Damien followed.
"Maybe."
Their music filled the empty ballroom.
Claire entered unnoticed near the main doors.
She stopped.
Marcus stood beside her.
"Should we interrupt?"
Claire watched her sister laughing at the piano.
"No."
Damien missed a chord.
Nora stopped.
"That was terrible."
"I haven't played jazz in twenty-five years."
"Excuses again."
"I saved your sister."
"That doesn't excuse an F-sharp when you needed an F."
Damien stared at her.
"You're criticizing me over one note?"
"Someone has to."
He played the wrong note deliberately.
Nora gasped.
"You did not."
He did it again.
She shoved his shoulder.
Damien laughed.
A real laugh.
Marcus looked at Claire.
"I've worked for that man for twelve years."
"And?"
"I've never seen anyone shove him."
Claire smiled.
"My sister doesn't have survival instincts."
At the piano, Damien suddenly stopped.
Nora looked at him.
"What?"
"I've been thinking."
"That usually causes trouble."
"Dinner."
She blinked.
"What about it?"
"You and me."
"We eat together all the time."
"No bodyguards."
Nora stared.
"No business."
Her expression softened.
"No investigations."
"That would be nice."
"No kidnapped relatives."
"Definitely."
Damien looked directly at her.
"A real date, Nora."
For once, she had no clever response.
Then she smiled.
"Friday."
"Seven?"
"Seven-thirty. I work until seven."
"I own the hotel."
"And I have a contract."
Damien laughed quietly.
"Seven-thirty."
Claire's voice suddenly echoed across the ballroom.
"FINALLY!"
Nora spun around.
"Claire!"
Her sister applauded.
Marcus tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile.
Damien leaned toward Nora.
"Apparently our privacy needs improvement."
Nora looked around the ballroom where everything had begun.
Six months earlier, she'd walked toward this man expecting she might not survive sixty seconds.
She'd known nothing about criminal conspiracies, federal corruption, shell companies, or the war happening beneath Damien Romano's empire.
She had only known one thing.
Her sister needed her.
And she'd noticed something everyone else had overlooked.
A powerful man who never looked at the piano...
because looking hurt too much.
Nora placed her hands back on the keys.
"One more?"
Damien sat beside her.
"One more."
"Try not to ruin it."
"No promises."
They began playing.
Claire sat at a nearby table.
Marcus finally removed the earpiece he seemed permanently attached to.
Outside the enormous windows, Chicago glowed beneath the evening sky.
There were no guns drawn.
No threats.
No hostages.
No one running.
Just music.
Halfway through the song, Damien glanced at Nora.
She caught him looking.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I noticed."
Nora smiled.
"Pay attention to the piano, Romano."
This time—
he did.
And when the final chord filled the ballroom, Damien Romano didn't close his eyes to remember the life he'd lost.
He kept them open.
May you like
Because for the first time in twenty years, there was something in front of him worth seeing.
THE END
