Chapter 2 - The Man Everyone Feared
The ballroom doors opened behind me.
I turned, expecting another wealthy guest.
Instead, I saw the man from the elevator.
The same black suit. The same gold tie pin. The same scar cutting through his eyebrow.
But something was different.
In the elevator, he'd been a handsome stranger.
Here, he was the center of an entire empire.
A tall man with silver hair stepped forward and bowed his head.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Then another man followed.
“Don Alessandro.”
One by one, the most intimidating men in the room lowered their heads.
My fingers tightened around the empty tray.
Moretti.
I'd heard that name before.
Everyone in Chicago had.
Alessandro Moretti was rumored to control half the city's underground operations. His family owned hotels, construction companies, shipping businesses, restaurants, and nightclubs. People whispered that politicians answered his calls and that men who betrayed him never got a second chance.
And I'd just called him my dream man.
Out loud.
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
His eyes moved across the ballroom.
Then they stopped on me.
I wanted the floor to swallow me.
A man beside him leaned forward and murmured something. Alessandro didn't answer. He simply started walking.
Straight toward me.
My heart pounded so violently I thought I might faint.
“Miss.”
A broad-shouldered security guard appeared beside me.
“Mr. Moretti wants to see you.”
“I think there's been a mistake.”
“There hasn't.”
He took my tray and gestured toward the center of the room.
I followed because refusing didn't seem like a sensible survival strategy.
Alessandro stood beside the grand piano, holding a glass of untouched whiskey.
Up close, he was even more intimidating.
His eyes were a remarkable shade of dark gray, almost silver beneath the chandelier light.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Nerissa.”
“Last name?”
“Bennett.”
His gaze briefly dropped to my stained apron.
“Are you always this honest, Miss Bennett?”
I blinked.
“I try to be.”
“Even when you don't realize someone is listening?”
My face burned.
He had heard me.
Every humiliating word.
“I apologize.”
“For what?”
“For... the elevator.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“You're apologizing for finding me attractive?”
A few men nearby suddenly became fascinated with their drinks.
“I wasn't supposed to say it aloud.”
“That's a different problem.”
“I was exhausted.”
“So I gathered.”
He looked at the man beside him.
“Find out which bakery sent her.”
I immediately panicked.
“Please don't get my manager in trouble. I didn't do anything wrong. I delivered the pastries exactly where they were supposed to go.”
Alessandro studied me.
“I'm not interested in your manager.”
“Then why do you want to know?”
“Because I asked.”
That wasn't an answer.
A woman in a shimmering silver dress approached us. She was tall, blonde, and beautiful in a way that seemed deliberately expensive.
“Alessandro, darling, the guests are waiting.”
Her eyes landed on me.
The smile disappeared.
“Who's this?”
“Nerissa Bennett.”
“She's a delivery girl.”
The woman said it as though she'd discovered something unpleasant on her shoe.
Alessandro took a slow sip of whiskey.
“And?”
The woman stiffened.
“Nothing. I only wondered why you're wasting your time.”
“Then stop wondering.”
Her expression hardened.
I wanted to disappear.
She turned toward me.
“Go back to the kitchen, sweetheart. This isn't a place for girls who smell like pastry.”
Before I could respond, Alessandro placed his glass on the table.
“Her name is Nerissa.”
The blonde woman went silent.
“And if you have a problem with her presence,” he continued, “you have a problem with me.”
The woman stared at him.
Then she forced a smile.
“Of course, Alessandro.”
She walked away.
I looked at him in disbelief.
“Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet.”
He gestured toward a nearby chair.
“Sit.”
“I should go home.”
“Sit down, Miss Bennett.”
I obeyed.
A server appeared with a plate of food. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the smell nearly made my stomach ache.
Alessandro noticed.
“When did you last eat?”
“Lunch.”
“What time?”
I hesitated.
“Yesterday.”
His jaw tightened.
He turned toward his security chief.
“Have the kitchen prepare something.”
“I can buy my own food,” I protested.
“I didn't ask whether you could.”
He sat opposite me.
For several minutes, I ate while trying to ignore the dozens of curious eyes watching us.
Finally, he spoke.
“You mentioned a sister.”
My fork stopped.
“I didn't.”
“Not in the elevator.”
My stomach dropped.
He placed a small folded piece of paper on the table.
My delivery receipt.
I'd written my emergency contact information on the back.
Sasha's name.
“She's your emergency contact?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Seventeen.”
“Parents?”
“Deceased.”
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“How long?”
“Three years.”
He said nothing.
Then he asked, “Do you know why I asked you here?”
“Because I insulted your reputation by having a crush on you?”
For the first time, something almost resembling amusement touched his mouth.
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“Because the woman you just met is my fiancée.”
My stomach twisted.
I looked toward the blonde woman.
She was standing beside a group of men, smiling as though nothing had happened.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered.
“Don't be.”
He glanced at the ballroom entrance.
“There's something else you should know.”
Before he could continue, a waiter hurried toward us.
“Mr. Moretti, your office received an urgent message.”
Alessandro opened the envelope.
His expression became stone.
He read the message twice.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Miss Bennett, does your mother happen to be named Elena?”
My blood turned cold.
“Yes.”
He slowly placed the message on the table.
It contained a photograph.
My mother stood beside a much younger Alessandro Moretti.
And on the back, someone had written six words.
May you like
THE GIRL MUST NEVER LEAVE CHICAGO.
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