Chapter 9 - THE MAFIA BOSS WHO ASKED PERMISSION
Lucas invited me to dinner three weeks after I stopped pretending to be helpless.
I said no.
He looked surprised.
Then laughed.
“May I ask why?”
“Because you're my client's principal shareholder.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
“And we're involved in a sensitive financial review.”
“Also fair.”
“And your uncle is apparently trying to dismantle my family's business.”
Lucas sighed.
“An unfortunate complication.”
I smiled.
“Several.”
He studied me.
Then said, “When the professional conflicts are resolved, may I ask again?”
I considered that.
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
For months, we worked through attorneys and independent advisers.
The financial review uncovered serious problems.
Victor's entities had structured several transactions with aggressive default provisions and undisclosed related-party interests.
My father's borrowing decisions were reckless.
Some statements contained inaccuracies.
And certain proposed changes involving my mother's trust had not received the required approvals.
The findings were documented and referred to the appropriate professionals and authorities.
There was no easy solution.
The Blackwater Grand remained financially distressed.
Some properties needed to be sold.
Others required restructuring.
My father faced scrutiny of his decisions.
But the trust protections Mother had established gave me an avenue to challenge unauthorized transactions and preserve my legal interests.
For the first time, I participated openly.
Not as a daughter sitting quietly while men discussed numbers.
As a financial professional with relevant expertise.
Lucas respected the distinction.
He never asked me to soften my conclusions to protect his family.
When my analysis criticized the DeLuca hotel portfolio's own assumptions, he didn't become angry.
He asked questions.
Requested supporting data.
And sometimes disagreed.
We argued.
Politely.
Occasionally less politely.
But always about the work.
One afternoon, after an especially difficult meeting, Lucas approached me in the hallway.
“Grace.”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“You were right about the Blackwater occupancy adjustment.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Only that one?”
He laughed.
“Don't push your luck.”
I smiled.
Then he became serious.
“Thank you for refusing to compromise your analysis.”
I looked at him.
“Even when it makes your company look bad?”
“Especially then.”
For a moment, I saw a man very different from the reputation attached to his name.
Not innocent.
Not harmless.
But capable of listening.
And perhaps capable of changing.
The investigation into Victor's business practices eventually led to formal proceedings.
Independent directors suspended his authority over several company matters.
Related transactions were reviewed.
Affected assets were placed under appropriate safeguards.
Lucas also faced scrutiny of criminal relationships within the broader DeLuca organization.
He had controlled a world where intimidation and illegal business were treated as ordinary tools of influence.
Now he was being forced to decide whether he wanted to continue living that way.
I didn't make that choice for him.
I couldn't.
Instead, I told him something simple.
“If you want to know me outside this work, I need to know you're moving toward a life that doesn't depend on hurting people.”
Lucas looked at me.
He didn't argue.
Didn't promise instant transformation.
He nodded.
“Then judge me by what I do.”
I smiled faintly.
“I intend to.”
Months later, after the financial engagement ended and conflict issues were resolved, Lucas called.
“Grace.”
“Lucas.”
“Do you remember our conversation about dinner?”
I smiled.
“Vaguely.”
He laughed.
“I believe you said I could ask again.”
“Did I?”
“Very clearly.”
I looked toward the framed photograph of Mother on my desk.
Then smiled.
“All right.”
Lucas went quiet.
“All right?”
“One dinner.”
He laughed.
“I'll take it.”
“But I have conditions.”
“Of course you do.”
“No business negotiations.”
“Agreed.”
“No bodyguards hovering over our table.”
“Reasonable safety arrangements, discreetly.”
I smiled.
“And absolutely no discussion of arranged marriages.”
Lucas laughed.
“Then what will we talk about?”
I considered that.
“Kevin's emotional recovery.”
Lucas burst into laughter.
May you like
And for the first time, I looked forward to a date without needing twelve photographs of cats to escape it.
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