Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WHO UNDERSTOOD TOO MUCH
Lorenzo Bianca looked at Rosie Hastings for three long seconds before delivering an order that made every man in the room uncomfortable.
"Mateo, find out everything about her."
Rosie's stomach dropped.
The words were spoken in Sicilian.
He knew she understood.
And he wanted her to know.
"Mr. Bianca," she began, forcing her voice to remain professional. "If there's anything else your guests need, I'll be happy to arrange it."
Lorenzo studied her.
"What did you hear tonight?"
"Sir?"
"The conversation before your telephone call."
Rosie clasped her hands in front of her.
"Your dinner arrangements are confidential. Our hotel takes guest privacy seriously."
"That wasn't my question."
"No," Rosie replied quietly. "But it's the only answer I'm authorized to give."
Mateo made a strange coughing sound.
Rosie suspected he was hiding a laugh.
Nobody spoke to Lorenzo Bianca that way.
Not twice.
Lorenzo approached her.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair touched by silver at his temples. His charcoal suit looked expensive enough to cover Rosie's annual salary.
But his eyes troubled her most.
They were the eyes of a man who noticed everything.
"What's your name?"
"Rosie Hastings."
"Full name."
She hesitated.
"Rosalina Marie Hastings."
Something changed in his expression.
"Rosalina?"
"My grandmother chose it."
"Her name?"
Rosie felt irritation rise.
"With respect, Mr. Bianca, I'm not sure what my grandmother has to do with your dinner."
Lorenzo's mouth curved slightly.
"Neither am I."
That was obviously a lie.
He stepped aside.
"You may go."
Rosie didn't need a second invitation.
She collected her service tablet, nodded professionally, and walked toward the door without looking back.
Only when she reached the hallway did she release the breath she'd been holding.
She had barely reached the staff elevator when her manager intercepted her.
"Rosie! What happened in there?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Lorenzo Bianca just canceled a twenty-thousand-dollar wine service and sent his entire party home."
Rosie closed her eyes.
Wonderful.
Another disaster to manage.
Her manager lowered his voice.
"He specifically asked who was supervising the private dining room."
Rosie stared at him.
"What did you say?"
"That you were."
A cold feeling settled in her stomach.
Before she could respond, her radio crackled.
"Rosie, security needs you downstairs."
She turned.
"Why?"
"There's a problem with tomorrow's wedding shipment."
Rosie hurried toward the service elevator.
The vendor call had already disrupted her schedule.
If the food didn't arrive, nearly five hundred guests would be expecting a wedding dinner she couldn't serve.
She reached the loading dock and found three refrigerated trucks waiting outside.
Salvatore Rossi stood beside the first vehicle.
He was sweating.
That was new.
Earlier, he'd sounded like a man who owned the entire shipping industry.
Now he looked as though someone had threatened to bury him beneath it.
"Miss Hastings," he said quickly. "Everything is here."
Rosie checked her watch.
"It's eleven forty-seven. You promised six in the morning."
"I thought earlier would be better."
She looked suspiciously at him.
"Why?"
Salvatore swallowed.
"Customer service."
Rosie almost laughed.
Then she noticed the black SUV parked beyond the loading dock.
Its rear window lowered.
Lorenzo Bianca sat inside.
Watching.
Rosie's pulse quickened.
Salvatore leaned close enough to whisper.
"Miss Hastings, I need to ask you something."
"What?"
He glanced toward Lorenzo's vehicle.
"Your grandmother..."
Rosie went still.
"Yes?"
Salvatore's voice trembled.
"Was her name Antonella Bellini?"
Rosie stared at him.
"How do you know that?"
Salvatore stepped backward.
"Oh, Madonna."
May you like
Then he whispered something that made the blood drain from her face.
"Your grandmother was supposed to be dead."
