Chapter 7 - THE EMPTY SEAT AT THE HEAD TABLE
The drive back to the Gold Coast mansion was silent.
I sat in the back of the SUV with little Leo. The boy had fallen asleep against my shoulder, his small hand gripping the fabric of my coat. I didn’t let go of him, even when we pulled through the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate.
In the trunk, Adrian Bellini was tied and gagged, guarded by Frank.
When we stepped into the grand foyer, the house was eerily quiet.
The thirty-two guests were still in the dining room. No one had dared to leave. The tension in the air was so thick it felt hard to breathe.
Luca turned to me before we entered the dining room.
“Take Leo upstairs. Lock the door. Do not let anyone in unless it’s me or Frank.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I carried the sleeping boy up the grand staircase. Once inside his room, I locked the heavy deadbolt and sat in the rocking chair by the window, holding him close.
Downstairs, the reckoning had begun.
I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it.
I heard the heavy oak doors of the dining room swing open.
I heard Luca’s footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor as he walked to the head of the table.
Then, a loud, heavy thud.
I imagined Frank dumping Adrian’s bound body onto the floor right in front of the head table.
A collective gasp echoed up the stairs.
“Adrian!” It was Vanessa’s voice. Piercing and hysterical.
“Sit down,” Luca commanded. The authority in his voice made the entire house rattle.
The silence that followed was absolute.
“Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of two families joining,” Luca’s voice carried clearly up to the second floor. “Instead, it was a coordinated attempt to steal my nephew, hijack my territory, and hand my organization over to the Bellinis.”
Murmurs broke out. Chairs scraped against the floor.
“Quiet,” Frank barked. The room went dead silent again.
“Vanessa,” Luca said. His tone wasn’t angry anymore. It was clinical. Disgusted. “You thought you were so clever. Moving my men away from me so I wouldn’t have protection. Paying off my maid to keep quiet. Letting your brother use my dead brother’s watch as collateral for his debts.”
“Luca, please,” Vanessa sobbed. “I didn’t know he was going to take the boy! I swear to God! I just wanted my family to have a seat at the table!”
“You didn’t want a seat at the table,” Luca replied. “You wanted the whole room.”
I heard the sound of heavy boots walking into the room.
The three other men—Anthony Romano, Peter Costa, and Michael Vitale. The loyalists Vanessa had banished to the back of the room.
“Mr. Moretti,” Anthony’s gruff voice echoed. “Give the word.”
I held my breath, pulling Leo tighter against my chest.
Was this it? Was Luca going to execute them right there in the dining room?
“No,” Luca said softly.
The restraint in his voice was the most shocking twist of all.
“I don’t kill women,” Luca said. “And I don’t kill cowards.”
I heard something slide across the table.
“Here is your five thousand dollars,” Luca said. He had taken the envelope Vanessa had tried to bribe me with. “Take it. Take your brother. And get out of my house. If any Bellini steps foot in Chicago again, I won’t send you back in a car. I’ll send you back in a box.”
“Luca, you can’t do this!” Vanessa screamed. “We’re engaged!”
“We were never engaged,” Luca replied coldly. “It was business. And the business is closed.”
I heard the sound of scrambling. Adrian being hauled to his feet by Frank. Vanessa crying hysterically as she was escorted out by the men she had tried to disrespect.
A few minutes later, the massive front doors slammed shut.
The threat was gone.
But the story wasn’t over.
There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door.
“Emma. It’s me.”
It was Luca.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Luca stood in the hallway, looking utterly exhausted. His tuxedo was ruined, his tie was gone, and there was blood on his knuckles.
But when he looked at Leo, sleeping peacefully in my arms, his face softened completely.
He stepped into the room and reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small, velvet box.
Not an engagement ring box. Something older.
He opened it. Inside rested a delicate, gold necklace with a small pendant shaped like a swallow.
“This belonged to my grandmother,” Luca said softly. “She wore it when she arrived in this country with nothing. It’s a family heirloom. It’s meant for the women who protect this family.”
He looked at me, his dark eyes filled with a profound, quiet respect.
“You saved my nephew’s life tonight, Emma. You saved my mother’s life. You refused to be bought, and you refused to look away.”
He took the necklace out of the box and held it toward me.
“You aren’t just staff in this house anymore,” Luca said.
I stared at the gold pendant, tears pricking my eyes.
But before I could speak, Frank DeLuca appeared in the doorway behind Luca.
He was holding a sealed brown envelope.
And he looked terrified.
“Luca,” Frank interrupted, his voice trembling. “You need to see this.”
“Not now, Frank.”
“Luca. Now.”
Frank stepped into the room and handed the envelope to Luca. “We found this in Adrian’s duffel bag in the trunk. It wasn’t the Bellinis who ordered the hit tonight.”
Luca frowned, tearing open the envelope.
He pulled out a single photograph.
I watched all the color drain from his face.
“Answer one, open two,” Luca whispered, dropping the photograph onto the floor.
I looked down at the picture.
It was a surveillance photo of me.
Taken three weeks ago, outside my apartment.
And written on the back, in bold red marker, were three words:
May you like
KILL THE MAID.
TITLE: THE TARGET WAS NEVER THE BOSS
