Chapter 6 - The Man Who Bought People
Marco De Luca was older than Roman by nine years and believed that made him wiser.
It mostly made him louder.
Claire met him at a tenant mediation session three weeks later.
He entered wearing a navy suit and a smile too friendly for the room.
“Claire Dawson.”
He extended his hand.
She shook it once.
“Marco De Luca.”
“I know.”
“Of course.”
He glanced toward Roman, who sat beside Elena on the opposite side of the conference table.
“You’ve become famous.”
Claire sat.
“I opened a bookstore.”
Marco laughed.
“Exactly.”
The mediator asked everyone to begin.
Wren Capital had indeed offered to purchase the Archer Street building.
The current owner wanted to sell.
Claire’s lease remained valid for eighteen months, with a renewal option requiring negotiation in good faith but no guaranteed rate.
Marco’s attorney said redevelopment plans might require vacancy after the current term.
Claire’s attorney, Helen Ward, asked for a written tenant-protection agreement.
Marco refused.
“Business cannot be sentimental.”
Claire looked at him.
“Neither can rent.”
He smiled.
“I like you.”
“I’ll recover.”
Roman stared at the table.
Elena whispered, “Behave.”
He did.
Mostly.
Marco offered Claire a buyout.
Enough to recover her investment and make a profit.
Claire rejected it.
Then he doubled it.
She rejected that too.
Marco leaned back.
“Why?”
Claire looked around.
“Because the shop is working.”
“You can build another.”
“Maybe.”
“Then take the money.”
“Why do you care so much?”
Marco’s smile changed.
There.
The real question.
He looked toward Roman.
“This block matters.”
“To what?”
“Future logistics.”
Roman finally spoke.
“Say the whole thing.”
Marco ignored him.
Claire’s attorney opened a map.
Archer Street sat near three properties Marco already controlled.
A warehouse.
A parking structure.
A narrow service lane.
Together with Claire’s building, the parcels created a continuous corridor from the main road to the riverfront.
Not illegal.
Strategic.
Claire understood.
“My shop is the missing piece.”
“Yes,” Marco said.
“And because Roman cares about Elena, and Elena cares about me, you assumed he’d pay more.”
Marco smiled.
“You’re quick.”
Claire looked at Roman.
His jaw was tight.
“Did you know?”
“I suspected.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I had no proof.”
“That is not the same as no reason.”
Roman accepted the hit.
“You’re right.”
Marco watched them, amused.
“You two are exhausting.”
Elena turned toward his voice.
“You always disliked conversations where women had options.”
Marco’s smile disappeared.
“Elena.”
“Don’t use my name like family means immunity.”
The mediator cleared his throat.
Good luck.
The meeting ended without agreement.
Outside, Claire confronted Roman.
“You should have told me the suspicion.”
“Yes.”
“Even without proof.”
“Yes.”
“I need to know when I’m the point of pressure.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“Stop agreeing so calmly.”
“I was told to listen.”
“By Elena?”
“Repeatedly.”
Claire sighed.
Roman stepped closer.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
No defense.
No explanation.
Just sorry.
That was harder to stay angry at.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I’m still angry.”
“Understood.”
“You can buy coffee.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“At my shop, yes.”
They walked back together.
The legal fight became public after Marco leaked selected details.
Online accounts claimed Claire refused a generous buyout because she wanted Roman to purchase the building for her.
Vanessa, surprisingly, posted against the rumor.
“I know what it looks like when someone invents motives for a woman because the truth is less useful,” she wrote. “Claire Dawson has never asked Roman De Luca to buy her business.”
Claire read it twice.
Then sent Vanessa a single message.
Thank you.
Vanessa replied:
I meant it.
People changed slowly.
Sometimes in directions no one expected.
Helen discovered an important clause in the property documents.
The building had received city revitalization grants.
Any redevelopment within five years required maintaining at least sixty percent small-business occupancy or repaying substantial subsidies with penalties.
Marco’s plan became far more expensive.
Claire smiled for the first time in days.
“He can still buy.”
“Yes,” Helen said. “But clearing the tenants would cost him.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“Good.”
Helen smiled.
“Law brings out a side of you.”
“My grandmother liked receipts.”
The city scheduled a public review.
Claire prepared testimony.
Not about Roman.
Not Marco.
About small businesses.
Accessibility.
Neighborhood foot traffic.
Jobs.
The fact that Chapter & Cup now employed six people.
The quiet-reading program for autistic children.
The weekly braille book club Elena had accidentally turned into a citywide event.
She brought numbers.
Not sentiment alone.
At the review, Marco’s attorney argued redevelopment would increase property tax revenue.
Claire agreed.
Then showed how the existing grant terms already required a mixed-use model.
She did not ask the city to save her.
She asked it to enforce its own agreement.
That distinction mattered.
The board voted to uphold the small-business occupancy requirement.
Marco could purchase.
He could not easily clear the block.
Afterward, reporters surrounded Roman.
He said only, “Ask Claire. It’s her business.”
Claire heard.
Another small change.
That night, Marco called Roman privately.
Claire was not there, but Roman told her later.
“You’re getting sentimental,” Marco said.
Roman answered, “You confuse respecting someone with losing power.”
Marco laughed.
“What is she to you?”
Roman looked through the office window toward Archer Street in the distance.
He could have said nothing.
Instead he said, “Someone I refuse to turn into leverage.”
Marco understood.
That was the first honest boundary Roman had ever drawn around Claire.
Not ownership.
Protection from ownership.
But the fight was not over.
Two days later, the building owner accepted Marco’s offer.
Wren Capital would own Chapter & Cup’s walls by the end of the month.
Claire still had eighteen months.
Then uncertainty.
She stood in the shop after closing.
Roman arrived.
“What do you want to do?”
Claire looked at the shelves.
“Get profitable enough that eighteen months becomes a long time.”
Roman smiled.
“That sounds like you.”
“It is.”
“Good.”
Claire looked at him.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want?”
Roman stepped closer.
The answer had nothing to do with property.
“You.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Roman continued before she could react.
“But only if wanting you does not become another way of deciding for you.”
The shop went quiet.
Claire looked at him.
“You really have been listening to Elena.”
“Painfully.”
May you like
She laughed.
Then, because she wanted to, Claire kissed him first.
