Chapter 6 - The Coffee Pot on Atlantic Avenue
By Monday morning, the collapse of the Luciani empire was no longer a secret discussed in private clubs; it was front-page news dominating every financial paper in the country.
“FEDERAL MARITIME INJUNCTION STRIPS LUCIANI LOGISTICS; UNKNOWN 26-YEAR-OLD FORMER COLUMBIA SCHOLAR APPOINTED MANAGING TRUSTEE OF $240M PORT ASSETS.”
At 7:00 AM, the thirty-eighth floor of the Moretti Tower was bathed in a brilliant, dazzling autumn sunlight that turned the waters of Boston Harbor into fields of liquid silver.
Sadi sat behind the massive mahogany partners desk in her newly appointed corner office, dressed in a tailored charcoal wool suit and an ivory silk blouse, her reading glasses pushed up into her dark hair, reviewing the final administrative transfer documents for Berth Nineteen.
The heavy oak door connecting her office to Roman’s suite clicked open with a soft, familiar squeak.
Roman walked inside.
He wasn't wearing his suit jacket or his tie. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark slacks, and an unhurried, relaxed posture that made him look ten years younger than the exhausted, suspicious man who had walked into the Starlight Diner six days earlier.
In his right hand, he carried a heavy, glass commercial coffee pot filled with dark roast Colombian coffee, steam curling into the cool morning air.
In his left, he held two thick white ceramic mugs.
Sadi stopped writing, setting her gold pen down on the blotter, an amused smile curving her lips. "Mr. Moretti. Are you moonlighting as a barista now?"
"The kitchen staff on the thirty-seventh floor makes coffee that tastes like roasted cardboard, Miss Miller," Roman replied smoothly, walking across the Persian rug and setting the two mugs down on the edge of her desk.
He poured the steaming dark liquid into her cup, filling it to the exact quarter-inch line beneath the rim, without spilling a single drop.
"I prefer the technique of my Chief Legal Counsel," Roman murmured, setting the pot on a cork coaster and taking the seat across from her. "Keep the cups full, or you're fired. Isn't that what your manager used to say?"
Sadi let out a soft, genuine laugh that danced in the sunlit room, picking up her mug and inhaling the rich, chocolatey aroma. "My manager was an idiot who didn't understand that good coffee takes ninety seconds to bloom before you pour it."
"Your manager was a fool who didn't realize he had an architectural genius wiping his ketchup stains," Roman countered, his gray eyes locking onto hers with a warmth that made her pulse skip a beat.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small, flat mahogany box lined with blue velvet, sliding it across the desk toward her.
Sadi paused, setting her coffee down. "Roman... what is this? You already gave me a partnership and an executive salary that paid off my mother’s medical debts on Friday."
"Open it," he said softly.
Sadi reached out, her fingers catching the brass latch, flipping the lid back.
Inside rested a pristine, heavy parchment diploma stamped with the gold seal of Columbia University School of Law, conferring the degree of Juris Doctor, Magna Cum Laude, dated that very morning.
Beside the diploma lay an official certificate of admission to the Massachusetts State Bar, signed by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Judicial Court.
Tears welled in Sadi’s amber-brown eyes, blurring the gold lettering on the parchment. Her breath hitched in her throat, her hand trembling as she touched the textured paper she had spent four years believing she would never hold.
"The dean of Columbia reviewed your academic portfolio on Saturday morning," Roman explained quietly, his voice rich with an ancient, tender pride. "He agreed that your three-hundred-page forensic audit of the Luciani maritime trusts satisfied the remaining eight credit hours for your degree with distinguished honors. And the bar committee... well, the bar committee was informed that if they didn't swear you in by Monday, I would personally audit their municipal pension funds."
A single tear spilled over Sadi’s lashes, tracking down her cheek. She looked up from the diploma, meeting his intense, unyielding gaze.
"You didn't have to do this, Roman," she whispered.
"I did," Roman said, rising from his chair, stepping around the desk to stand beside her.
May you like
He didn't hesitate. He reached down, his large, warm hand gently cupping the side of her face, his thumb catching the tear and wiping it away with infinite care.
"You gave me back my future, Sadi," Roman murmured against her hair. "The least I can do... is make sure the world knows your name."
