Chapter 1 - THE NIGHT THE MAFIA BOSS SAW ME DIFFERENTLY
The first time Dante Moretti thanked me, I thought he was talking to someone else.
It was 3:17 in the morning.
Rain hammered against the penthouse windows, and the two men who'd been shot near the Chicago docks were finally sleeping.
Marco Bellini had a bandaged shoulder.
Elias Romano had undergone emergency surgery for a wound near his ribs.
Both had been cleared for recovery under medical supervision, but neither had family nearby.
So I'd stayed.
I'd brought water, adjusted their pillows, and called the visiting nurse when Elias developed a fever.
Dante stood in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up and exhaustion written across his face.
"You called the doctor?"
"Yes."
"Before his temperature became dangerous?"
"Yes."
He looked toward Elias.
Then back at me.
"Thank you, Serena."
I nearly dropped the glass in my hand.
For three months, Dante had spoken to me only when necessary.
Coffee.
Documents.
Dinner.
Occasionally, a quiet instruction to close the curtains.
Now he was looking at me as though I'd done something extraordinary.
"They're your people," I said.
His expression changed.
"That doesn't mean everyone stays."
I looked toward the sleeping men.
"Someone should."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Dante walked toward the window.
His reflection stared back at us from the black glass.
"Marco has worked for me eleven years," he said.
I nodded.
"Elias grew up with my younger brother."
I glanced toward him.
"I didn't know you had a brother."
His jaw tightened.
"Had."
The word hung between us.
I immediately regretted asking.
"I'm sorry."
Dante looked toward the rain.
"His name was Luca. He died six years ago."
I stayed quiet.
Then he said something unexpected.
"He was twenty-nine."
My throat tightened.
My own brother Mateo was twenty-one.
I couldn't imagine losing him.
"What happened?"
Dante's expression turned cold.
"Someone betrayed him."
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded behind us.
Celeste Bowmont appeared wearing a white silk robe and diamond earrings.
Her eyes moved from Dante to me.
Then toward the two wounded men.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
I straightened.
"Helping with their recovery."
"At three in the morning?"
Dante turned.
"Serena called the doctor when Elias developed a fever."
Celeste laughed.
"How heroic."
I looked down.
She stepped closer.
"You're a housekeeper, Serena. Not a nurse."
"I know."
"Then stop pretending you're something important."
Dante's expression hardened.
"Celeste."
She smiled sweetly.
"I'm only reminding her of her position."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dante said quietly:
"Her position tonight is the reason Elias is getting medical attention."
Celeste went still.
It was the first time I'd heard him contradict her.
And judging by her expression, she hadn't expected it either.
She turned toward me.
"Enjoy your moment."
Then she walked away.
I stared after her.
Dante sighed.
"Don't take it personally."
I gave him a tired smile.
"She makes that difficult."
For the first time, he laughed.
A real laugh.
Brief.
Surprised.
Almost unfamiliar.
Then he looked toward the doorway.
His expression changed.
"Serena."
"Yes?"
"If Celeste ever asks you to give my mother medication, come to me first."
I frowned.
"Why?"
He hesitated.
Then answered:
"Because Valentina's doctor changed her prescriptions last week, and Celeste has been unusually interested in them."
My stomach tightened.
I'd already noticed something strange.
That afternoon, I'd found two unmarked pills beneath Valentina's teacup.
When I asked where they came from, Valentina said Celeste had brought them.
And she'd insisted they were vitamins.
Now, standing beneath the penthouse lights, I remembered Valentina's trembling hands.
Her sudden dizziness.
The way she'd fallen asleep halfway through lunch.
I looked at Dante.
"Mr. Moretti, there's something you need to know."
Then I told him about the pills.
May you like
His face went completely white.
Because according to Valentina's medication list, she wasn't supposed to be taking anything that looked like them.
