Chapter 20 - Roots and Rains
The greenhouse at the rear of the Moretti estate was a cathedral of glass and steel, warmed by a subterranean boiler that hummed like a contented cat. Antonio stood knee-deep in peat moss, carefully transplanting a row of rare Peruvian orchids into larger ceramic pots.
The door clicked open, and Elena walked down the gravel pathway, holding a heavy wool cardigan around her shoulders against the evening chill. She stopped a few feet away, watching the way his hands moved—steady, precise, completely free of the tremors that used to plague him during the bad years in the hospital.
"Damen called from Mulberry Street," Elena said quietly. "Frankie took the pension."
"Good," Antonio murmured, not looking up from the roots. "Frankie has gout anyway. He shouldn't be walking the asphalt in the winter."
Elena stepped closer, her shoes crunching softly on the gravel. She reached out and brushed a smudge of dark earth from his cheek with the back of her thumb. "You’re changing everything, Antonio. The capos are grumbling in the shadows, even if they don't dare say it to your face. They think you've grown soft."
Antonio paused. He set the ceramic pot down on the wooden bench, turned to face her, and wiped his hands on his canvas apron. The greenhouse lights cast a soft, emerald glow over his sharp features, making him look less like a syndicate boss and more like an old photograph brought back to life.
"Let them think I'm soft," Antonio said, his voice dropping into that quiet, absolute register. "Soft men live longer. Hard men end up under the floorboards in Queens." He reached out, his warm, calloused hand cupping the side of her face. "For five years, Elena, I was a ghost watching you and Mia from behind a glass wall. I watched you cry over bills we couldn't pay while my so-called brothers stole everything not nailed down."
His thumb brushed her cheekbone. "I didn't come back from the dead to run a criminal enterprise. I came back to make sure you never have to look over your shoulder again."
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Elena leaned into his palm, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "And the empire?"
"The empire is a garden now," Antonio smiled faintly. "We pull the weeds, we prune the dead wood, and whatever doesn't feed the roots gets thrown into the river."
