Chapter 11 - THE YEAR ROMAN WAITED
Roman waited.
Not performatively.
Not with flowers delivered monthly.
He worked.
Emily worked.
The employee liaison office changed the hotel.
Luis helped design translation request system.
Henry taught basic computer classes to staff over sixty because he had become aggressively proud of typing with more than one finger.
Walter’s uniform repair program became official, paid work for seamstresses.
Samuel got his raise and eventually a chair behind the awning for slow hours.
He pretended to hate it.
Everyone knew better.
Emily became impossible to ignore.
Not loud.
Precise.
Her reports went to board.
Names attached only with consent.
Data clean.
Stories included.
Roman read every one.
Sometimes they hurt.
Good.
Then Keller pleaded guilty to several fraud and forgery counts.
Frank Bellini took a deal.
Civil cases followed.
Nora’s workers’ comp case reopened posthumously for benefits owed to estate.
Emily did not become rich.
She received enough to pay debts and fund a scholarship in Nora’s name for hotel workers’ children.
No Bellini branding.
Roman offered.
She said:
“No.”
He said:
“Right.”
Progress.
At month six, Roman stepped down temporarily as sole executive authority over hotel operations.
Independent president hired.
Roman remained owner-chair.
Less direct control.
People whispered he had weakened.
Emily thought he had finally matured.
At month nine, Roman attended cafeteria holiday lunch.
No entourage.
Luis forced him to eat too much.
At month twelve, he knocked at Emily’s office.
She checked clock.
8:15 p.m.
Exactly.
“You remembered.”
“Yes.”
“Obsessive.”
“Accurate.”
He stood in doorway.
“Dinner?”
Emily pretended to think.
“Yes.”
He exhaled so slightly she almost missed it.
Then:
“Not upstairs.”
“Agreed.”
“Not here.”
“Agreed.”
“No driver waiting like I’m a hostage.”
“One car across the street?”
She narrowed eyes.
“Security?”
“Reality.”
“Fine.”
They went to a tiny Thai restaurant.
Roman looked uncomfortable on plastic chair.
Emily enjoyed it.
They talked about Nora.
Carlo.
His father.
Her childhood.
His childhood.
Power.
Work.
Nothing easy.
Then Emily asked:
“Have you ever ordered violence?”
Roman did not flinch.
“Yes.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Recently?”
“No.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Some.”
“Not all?”
“No.”
Honest.
Hard.
She appreciated truth and feared it.
Then he said:
“I’m trying to leave less of that world behind me.”
“Trying?”
“It takes legal structure, money and enemies not shooting first.”
“Very romantic.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“I don’t want you involved in it.”
“Good.”
“I also know that statement becomes control if I decide what you can know.”
Better.
“So if you ask, I will answer as far as counsel allows.”
Emily looked at him for a long moment.
“That might be the least normal sentence anyone has said on a date.”
Roman smiled.
“Probably.”
At the end, he asked:
“Can I kiss you?”
She looked at him.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Good night, Emily.”
She kissed his cheek instead.
May you like
He stood very still.
Then she walked away smiling.
