Chapter 8 - THE ROMAN DINNER
The private dining room at the Grand Regency Hotel was decorated in heavy mahogany, dark velvet drapes, and dim, amber lighting.
At the head of a long oak table sat Don Mateo Valente. He was a man in his late seventies, with silver hair combed neatly back, a tailored black suit, and sharp, dark eyes that had seen decades of dangerous power struggles. Beside him sat two bulky men in dark suits who kept their hands folded neatly over their buttoned jackets.
Sarah sat across from Mateo, wearing an elegant dark red velvet dress that complemented her figure, her poise steady and composed. Enzo sat beside her, his hand resting reassuringly over hers beneath the white tablecloth.
Mateo cut a small piece of his steak, chewed deliberately, and set his silver fork down.
“In my day,” Mateo began, his voice deep, gravelly, and carrying a thick Italian accent, “a Valente did not expose his entire asset portfolio to save a woman’s construction contract.”
The two bodyguards remained stoic, but the tension in the room was palpable.
Enzo’s voice was completely calm. “In your day, Uncle, the family operated in secret hiding from local police. Today, we own the banks. Times change.”
Mateo turned his sharp, calculating eyes onto Sarah. “You are an architect, Miss Kuri. A woman of Lebanese heritage, raised by an immigrant family. You build pretty things out of stone and glass.”
“I build structures that endure, Don Mateo,” Sarah corrected smoothly, her voice calm, clear, and unshakeable. “Just like your family built networks that endured. The only difference is my work stands in the sunlight where everyone can benefit from it.”
Mateo raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing through his old eyes. “You speak with great confidence for someone sitting in the shadow of this family.”
“I don't sit in anyone’s shadow,” Sarah replied, leaning forward slightly, her dark eyes locking onto the old man’s. “When Dominic Castellano tried to destroy my life, Enzo didn't fight my battle because I was weak. He fought beside me because we are partners. I design the foundation, Don Mateo. Enzo reinforces the steel. Together, we are unbreakable.”
Silence hung heavy over the table.
Enzo watched Sarah with a look of fierce, unadulterated pride. He knew his uncle was trying to intimidate her, testing her strength to see if she was worthy of standing beside the head of the Valente family.
Slowly, a deep, rumbling sound came from Mateo’s chest.
The old man began to laugh—a hearty, genuine laugh that echoed off the mahogany walls.
“Dio mio,” Mateo chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his wineglass. “She has fire in her veins, Enzo! She talks to me like my late wife used to talk when I was being foolish!”
Mateo raised his glass toward Sarah, his eyes shining with newfound respect.
“To Miss Sarah Kuri,” Mateo declared, his voice warm. “An architect who knows how to hold her ground against old fools. Welcome to the family, my dear.”
Sarah smiled warmly, raising her glass to clink against his. “To strong foundations, Don Mateo.”
As the dinner continued, Mateo shared stories of Enzo’s childhood, laughing and drinking rich Italian wine. The old threat of family disapproval had completely dissolved, replaced by warmth and acceptance.
Later that night, as Enzo drove them back to his penthouse, Sarah looked out at the city lights with a light heart.
May you like
“I think he liked me,” Sarah said playfully.
Enzo turned to her at a red light, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “He didn't just like you, Sarah. He respects you. Everyone does. Because you are impossible not to love.”
