TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL'S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FIFTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE MAID REFUSED TO SILENCE HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER

“Your grandmother’s?”

Luca stared at the glittering sapphire. The deep blue stone caught the flashing red and blue police lights from outside.

I carefully reached out and touched the gold clasp.

“My grandmother, Rosa,” I whispered. “She told me she sold it to pay for our family’s passage from Naples to America when she was young. I’ve only seen drawings of it.”

Roberto walked over, standing beside Luca. The FBI agents were busy securing the mansion, their radios buzzing with chatter.

Roberto looked closely at the necklace.

“She didn’t sell it, Emily,” Roberto said softly. “She gave it as collateral.”

I looked up at him, confused. “Collateral for what?”

“To a smuggler,” Roberto explained. “To get her family safely out of Italy during the gang wars. But the man she gave it to wasn’t a smuggler.”

Luca’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “It was my father. Lorenzo Moretti.”

Roberto nodded. “Lorenzo helped hundreds of families escape Naples. He kept their heirlooms safe, promising to return them when the families established themselves in America. But Vincent Bellini stole your father’s safe before Lorenzo could return this one.”

I felt a tear slip down my cheek.

My grandmother had worked her fingers to the bone in Chicago factories, always believing her beautiful necklace was lost forever. Now, I was holding it in my hands.

“It belongs to you,” Luca said, his voice deep and gentle. He carefully lifted the necklace from the box.

Before I could protest, he stepped behind me. His large, warm hands brushed against my neck as he clasped the heavy gold chain around my throat.

The sapphire rested perfectly against my collarbone.

Isabella clapped her hands. “You look like a princess, Emily!”

I blushed furiously, looking down at my stained housekeeper’s apron. “A princess in an apron.”

Luca stepped in front of me. His dark eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the entire chaotic room melted away.

“You’re the bravest woman I have ever met,” Luca said quietly. “You risked your life for my daughter tonight. You saved me.”

“I was just doing my job, sir.”

“Stop calling me sir,” he ordered, though there was a soft smile playing on his lips. “And you’re fired.”

I blinked in shock. “What?”

“You’re fired as a maid,” Luca corrected. He reached down and gently untied the strings of my apron, pulling it away from my dress.

“I need a tutor for Isabella. A guardian. Someone to live in the east wing and help her grow up.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “And I need you to stay, Emily.”

My heart did a wild flip in my chest.

I looked at Isabella. She was bouncing on her heels, grinning up at me.

“Please, Emily?” she begged.

I couldn't help but smile. “I would love that.”

The FBI agent returned, holding a clipboard. “Mr. Moretti, we need you and Mr. Rossi to come down to the station to give a formal statement.”

Luca nodded. He looked at me one last time. “Wait for me.”

I watched as the men walked out into the chilly Chicago night.

The mansion suddenly felt very quiet. The caterers had cleaned up the broken glass. The guests were long gone.

I took Isabella upstairs and tucked her into bed. She fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted by the night’s events.

I walked down the hall to my small room in the servant’s quarters.

I sat on my narrow bed and looked at the velvet box the necklace had come in. I ran my fingers over the faded silk lining.

As I pressed down, the bottom of the box shifted.

I frowned.

I pulled the false bottom up.

Tucked underneath was a small, folded letter, yellowed with age.

I carefully opened it.

It was written in Italian. The handwriting belonged to Luca’s father, Lorenzo.

I translated it as I read:

“To whoever finds this box. The Bellini family has poisoned my bloodline. Vincent has sworn to kill my son, Luca. I am dying, and I cannot protect him. But I have arranged a fail-safe. A marriage contract, signed by the oldest families of Naples, promising Luca’s hand to the granddaughter of Rosa Carter.”

I gasped, dropping the paper on the bed.

Luca’s father hadn't just saved my grandmother. He had arranged a marriage to tie our families together, a vow made thirty years ago to protect the Moretti empire from the Bellinis.