Chapter 4 - THE BILLIONAIRE IN APARTMENT 3B
Damian expected Lily to agree to a hotel.
Instead, she chose her apartment.
“It has one entrance, terrible plumbing, and Mrs. Alvarez across the hall knows everyone who breathes on this floor.”
“That is not security.”
“You haven’t met Mrs. Alvarez.”
Damian did twenty minutes later.
The seventy-two-year-old woman opened her door in pink slippers, looked at Damian’s armed security detail, and pointed a wooden spoon at him.
“You hurt Lily?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You married?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She closed the door.
Damian stared after her.
Lily fought a smile.
“Told you.”
Her apartment had one bedroom, a narrow kitchen, thrift-store furniture, and a radiator that clicked every eleven seconds.
Damian looked wildly out of place.
His watch alone could probably pay Lily’s rent for years.
She set a first-aid kit on the table.
“Sit.”
“I have a doctor.”
“Your doctor is forty miles away.”
“He’s downstairs.”
Lily blinked.
“You brought a doctor?”
“I was shot.”
“Grazed.”
“I appreciate your medical expertise.”
“Sit down, Mr. Mafia.”
He sat.
She cleaned the wound.
Damian barely reacted.
“You can say ouch.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s what emotionally constipated men say.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“My dad used to say it.”
“About you?”
“Frequently.”
For the first time that night, Damian laughed.
The sound filled her tiny kitchen strangely.
Lily looked at him.
“You’re different here.”
“Here?”
“Without fifty employees watching you.”
“And what am I here?”
She considered him.
“Tired.”
The word hit harder than she expected.
Damian looked away.
At midnight, Lily found him sitting on her fire escape.
She stepped outside carrying two mugs.
“Coffee?”
“It’s midnight.”
“I work nights. My body has given up understanding time.”
He accepted it.
Below them, the city stretched toward the horizon.
“You could leave,” Lily said.
“Where?”
“This life.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“It isn’t that simple.”
“People always say that when something is difficult.”
“Victor Romano has men who depend on him. I have people who depend on me. Walking away creates a vacuum.”
“So change it.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try faster.”
He glanced at her.
“You have an irritating habit of making impossible things sound like errands.”
“I once fixed a toilet with duct tape during a Christmas rush.”
“That explains your confidence.”
Silence returned.
Then Damian said, “Julian wanted out.”
Lily waited.
“He was twenty-four. He hated what our father had built. I thought he was naive.”
“You fought?”
“Constantly.”
“What was the last thing you said to him?”
Damian’s expression changed.
Lily immediately regretted asking.
But he answered.
“I told him if he couldn’t handle being a Vale, he should stop using the name.”
Lily’s chest tightened.
“He died that night?”
“Three hours later.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I spent years thinking power would make that guilt quieter.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
Lily placed her hand over his.
Damian looked down.
Neither moved.
Then his phone rang.
The moment broke.
He answered.
“What?”
A voice spoke rapidly.
Damian stood.
“Where?”
His face hardened.
“When?”
Lily rose.
“What happened?”
Damian ended the call.
“The men who attacked the cafe used a vehicle registered to one of my companies.”
“So someone inside your organization helped them.”
“Yes.”
“Someone close?”
“Close enough.”
The next morning, Damian insisted Lily not return to work.
She ignored him.
At eleven, she entered the cafe.
Ray hugged her.
Then immediately said, “You’re fired.”
Lily pulled back.
“What?”
“You left during rush. Then people shot my window.”
“You’re firing me because someone shot at us?”
“I’m firing you because I like being alive.”
She stared.
Ray sighed.
“Lily, I’m sorry.”
Her anger disappeared.
He was scared.
She couldn’t blame him.
“I understand.”
She collected her apron.
Outside, Damian waited beside his SUV.
“You knew?”
“Ray called one of my men.”
“And you’re standing there because?”
“I assumed you’d need a ride.”
“I need a job.”
“I can offer you one.”
She laughed.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not becoming your employee.”
“Consultant.”
“For what?”
“Honesty.”
“That isn’t a job.”
“It is around me.”
She started walking.
Damian followed.
“I’ll pay you.”
“No.”
“Three times your cafe salary.”
“No.”
“Five.”
Lily stopped.
“That is offensive.”
“Six?”
She glared.
He almost smiled.
“My company has a community logistics division. Legitimate work. We coordinate food deliveries to shelters, emergency supplies, nonprofit partnerships.”
“And?”
“The woman running it is retiring.”
“You want a waitress to run a corporate department?”
“I want someone who drove forty miles to return something valuable because it wasn’t hers.”
Lily stared at him.
“That is either the best job interview or the worst background check in American history.”
“Probably both.”
She looked at her dead car being unloaded from a tow truck across the street.
Then at Damian.
“One condition.”
“Name it.”
“I earn the job. You don’t give it to me because you feel guilty.”
“Agreed.”
“And no mafia business.”
“Agreed.”
“And I don’t call you Boss.”
His mouth twitched.
“I would prefer that.”
Lily extended her hand.
Damian shook it.
Neither noticed the man across the street photographing them.
But thirty minutes later, the picture reached Victor Romano.
Victor studied Lily’s face.
Then smiled.
May you like
“So,” he murmured.
“Damian Vale finally has something he’s afraid to lose.”
