Chapter 1 - THE CONTRACT MARCO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BRING
Marco Santori left the dining room with two of Luca’s men following him.
Nobody touched dessert.
Nobody lifted a glass.
Thirty-two guests sat beneath the chandeliers in Luca Moretti’s Gold Coast mansion, pretending not to watch the fiancée in the red gown losing control of the room.
I sat in the chair Luca had pulled out for me.
It felt wrong.
Housekeepers didn’t sit at the head table.
Housekeepers didn’t correct fiancées.
Housekeepers definitely didn’t become witnesses inside a mafia boss’s engagement dinner.
Vanessa stared at me as if imagining every way to ruin my life.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said.
“No, ma’am.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Don’t call me ma’am like you’re innocent.”
Luca didn’t look at her.
He looked at me.
“Emma.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Did she threaten Marco?”
The room held its breath.
I thought of my mortgage.
My father’s physical therapy.
My small bedroom over my aunt’s garage.
Then I thought of Marco’s face when he had been ready to lose twelve years of work rather than accuse Luca’s fiancée.
“Yes.”
Vanessa laughed sharply.
“Ridiculous.”
“In Italian,” I continued. “She told him if he still wanted to work for you, he would do what she said.”
Luca’s jaw shifted once.
That was all.
Then Marco returned carrying a black leather folder.
His hands shook when he placed it before Luca.
“The original catering agreement.”
Luca opened it.
I saw immediately why Vanessa had wanted Marco gone before anyone looked too closely.
The vendor name was not the regular caterer.
Not the one Marco had used for years.
The contract at the top listed Bellini Private Events.
Vanessa’s cousin’s company.
Luca looked at Marco.
“You said you refused to use them.”
“I did.”
“Then why is their contract in my house?”
Marco swallowed.
“Because I found it in my office this afternoon.”
Vanessa went still.
Marco continued.
“My signature is on page six.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
Luca turned the page.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“Your cousin’s company received a deposit.”
“That is normal.”
“Twenty-eight thousand dollars.”
The guests stirred.
Vanessa lifted her chin.
“It was a large dinner.”
“The dinner was never theirs.”
Luca’s voice remained quiet.
Terrifyingly quiet.
Then Marco removed one more document.
A resignation letter.
Already printed.
Already dated.
Already bearing Marco’s forged signature.
My stomach tightened.
Luca read it.
His expression changed for the first time.
“Who wrote this?”
Marco looked at Vanessa.
“She left it on my desk.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Luca placed the letter on the table.
“Why would my fiancée prepare my restaurant manager’s resignation before accusing him of incompetence in front of thirty-two witnesses?”
No one answered.
Then I noticed something on the bottom of the catering contract.
A vendor code.
BPE-17.
I had seen it before.
Not in the mansion.
At my mother’s old restaurant.
On an invoice that arrived two weeks before she lost the lease.
May you like
And suddenly I realized Vanessa’s cousin’s company had not come for Marco first.
They had destroyed my family’s restaurant years before I ever worked for Luca Moretti.
