Chapter 6 - EMMA WALKED AWAY
Dominic’s son survived.
Drugged.
Not beaten.
No permanent harm.
That was the good news.
The bad news was the drug used had come from a Russo-owned medical supply company.
Too obvious.
Luca said so immediately.
“Planted.”
Nico agreed.
Camille said:
“Anthony.”
Maybe.
But evidence mattered.
Emma sat in the Moretti library listening to men discuss territory and motive.
For the first time, she felt genuinely tired.
Not physically.
Tired of being brave enough to stay.
Luca noticed.
“Emma.”
She looked at him.
“I’m done.”
Silence.
Teresa was there.
Nico.
Camille.
Adrian.
Everyone stopped.
Luca’s face changed.
“Done with what?”
“This.”
She gestured around.
“Fake girlfriend. Family trust. Russo politics. Notes. Security.”
Luca stared.
“You can’t leave protection.”
“I didn’t say protection.”
“Then?”
“I’m ending the performance publicly.”
Teresa opened her mouth.
Emma looked at her.
“No.”
Teresa closed it.
Progress.
Emma continued.
“If someone wants to challenge Luca because he’s unmarried, let them.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“That may destabilize—”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“But staying fake-attached to you is not stopping it anymore.”
True.
“In fact, it’s giving Anthony a symbol.”
Camille nodded slowly.
“The maid who replaced Russo.”
Emma looked at her.
“Exactly.”
Luca stood.
“Then we announce separation.”
“Yes.”
His face was unreadable.
Emma hated that it hurt.
Stupid.
Fake relationship.
Agreement.
Ending.
Then:
“Recommendation?”
He looked at her.
“Already written.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“In my desk.”
“When?”
“After your first hotel week.”
Something inside her softened.
He had done it before needing to prove anything.
“Thank you.”
“Honest.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
He almost smiled.
“That you argue too much.”
Emma stared.
He continued.
“And that any executive offended by that probably deserves the operational failure that follows.”
She laughed despite herself.
Good.
Then became serious.
“I’m moving out of the Moretti residence.”
“You have staff apartment.”
“I know.”
“That’s your home.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“It was tied to employment.”
“Keep it during transition.”
“Luca.”
“Not gift. Thirty days.”
She thought.
Reasonable.
“Fine.”
He nodded.
No argument.
Then:
“Where will you work?”
“I applied.”
His expression changed.
“Where?”
“The Halston Hotel.”
Competitor.
Adrian smiled.
“Good property.”
Luca looked betrayed.
“You applied without telling me.”
Emma raised an eyebrow.
“You do remember the part where it’s my career.”
He nodded.
“Right.”
Teresa whispered:
“He’s learning so painfully.”
Emma almost laughed.
That evening, a statement went out.
Private relationship ended amicably.
No further comment.
The effect was immediate.
Anthony relaxed publicly.
Dominic’s faction called emergency board meeting for January 7.
Exactly one day after Luca’s birthday.
Too neat.
Camille’s father withdrew from public alliance talks.
Also too neat.
Everyone thought the Moretti-Russo marriage possibility might reopen.
It would not.
Camille refused.
Good.
Emma moved to a small furnished apartment downtown.
Security nearby.
Not inside.
She started interviews.
The Halston called her back.
Then another.
A boutique hotel group.
For the first time in years, her days stopped revolving around Luca’s house.
That felt good.
Sad too.
She hated that.
Two weeks passed.
Luca did not call except security-relevant updates.
He respected distance.
That made missing him worse.
Emma saw him in newspapers.
Board fight.
Ferraro Holdings.
Rumors about weakening control.
No mention of her after three days.
Good.
Exactly what she wanted.
Then the Halston offered her assistant director of housekeeping operations.
Not general management.
Still substantial.
Real.
She accepted.
Called her mother first.
Then Teresa.
Why Teresa?
Mistake.
Teresa screamed.
Then:
“Have you told Luca?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re not together.”
Silence.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“You are very stubborn for someone so observant.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“Goodbye, Teresa.”
She hung up.
First day at Halston was Monday.
On Friday, Luca came into the lobby.
Emma saw him immediately.
Black coat.
No entourage visible.
Of course security existed.
He waited until she finished speaking with a vendor.
Then:
“Congratulations.”
She blinked.
“Teresa.”
“Yes.”
“Traitor.”
“She is.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Lunch.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
“Why?”
“Because I’m working.”
“After.”
Emma stared.
“What is this?”
Luca’s expression changed.
No games.
“I miss you.”
That landed hard.
She looked around.
Lobby.
Staff.
Guests.
Not place.
“Luca.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He lowered his voice.
“The fake relationship ended.”
“Yes.”
“I’m asking for real lunch.”
Her stomach tightened.
“You don’t know how to date normally.”
“No.”
“That is not attractive.”
“Honest.”
Damn him.
She folded her arms.
“Why now?”
“Because I waited until your job was yours.”
That stopped her.
He continued.
“If I asked while you were applying, you might wonder whether saying no cost you anything.”
Exactly.
He had learned.
Emma looked at him.
“What about family trust?”
“Still unresolved.”
“So this timing is terrible.”
“Yes.”
“Anthony?”
“Still a problem.”
“Danger?”
“Lower than two weeks ago.”
“Not zero.”
“No.”
Her third rule.
Truth.
She appreciated it.
“Lunch,” she said.
He almost smiled.
“One.”
“No gifts.”
“Fine.”
“No security at table.”
“Across room.”
“Fine.”
“No calling me darling in public.”
“I never did.”
“Good.”
They ate.
Normal-ish.
He asked about Halston.
Actually asked.
She explained staffing metrics.
Revenue per occupied room.
Housekeeping labor percentages.
Guest recovery.
He listened.
Then:
“You like it.”
“Yes.”
“You’re good.”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Confidence.
Good.
Then Emma asked:
“What happens January seventh?”
Luca looked down.
“Board vote.”
“You lose?”
“Maybe.”
“What then?”
“I retain control of other interests.”
“Criminal?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
She hated that answer.
Not because she expected sainthood.
Because truth made consequences real.
“Could Anthony move against you?”
“Yes.”
“And your grandmother?”
“Safe.”
“Your family?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly.”
He smiled without humor.
“Moretti word.”
Emma looked at him.
Then:
“Why not marry someone?”
He went still.
She regretted it immediately.
Then Luca said:
“Because I don’t want to marry someone to keep a chair.”
Her chest tightened.
Good answer.
He continued.
“And because the only woman I’ve considered asking would say no if I asked for the wrong reason.”
Emma stared.
No.
Too much.
“Don’t.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
He stopped.
That mattered more than pushing.
Lunch ended.
No kiss.
No dramatic declaration.
He walked her back.
At the hotel entrance, Emma said:
“I miss you too.”
His face changed.
Then she walked inside.
That night, Anthony Vella was arrested.
Not for family politics.
For the drugging of Dominic’s son.
Carlo had flipped.
Messages.
Payments.
Instructions.
Anthony had staged the attack to force Russo outrage and accelerate the post-January challenge.
The medical-supply evidence was planted deliberately.
Camille gave police enough communications to prove manipulation.
Dominic learned his supposed ally had drugged his son.
Family voting coalition shattered overnight.
By morning, the board challenge collapsed.
Luca won without marriage.
Without Emma.
Without a treaty.
He called her.
“Anthony’s done.”
“I heard.”
“Trust vote?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then he said:
“Dinner.”
Emma smiled despite herself.
“That sounded like an order.”
He exhaled.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Better.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“Friday.”
He smiled.
May you like
“Friday.”
And for the first time, the relationship between them began with an actual date nobody had sabotaged on purpose.
