Chapter 3 - A Seat at His Table
I should have said no.
Instead, twenty-four hours later, I was standing inside Alessandro Romano’s private office on the forty-third floor of Romano Holdings.
The official job was executive liaison.
The unofficial job was apparently human lie detector.
The salary was $140,000.
I had stared at the contract for three full minutes.
“No.”
Victor looked confused.
Alessandro looked irritated.
“What now?”
“It’s too much.”
Victor laughed.
Alessandro didn't.
“You complained when I gave you ninety-seven dollars. Now you’re complaining about a salary?”
“I need to know what I'm being paid to do.”
“You observe meetings. You listen. You tell me when something feels wrong.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
I waited.
“You argue with me.”
“I’ve been doing that free.”
Victor coughed into his fist.
Alessandro ignored him.
My mother's treatment wasn't technically part of the arrangement. Alessandro had made that clear. The Romano Foundation had placed her in a financial-assistance program available to qualifying patients.
I checked.
Then checked again.
It was real.
No hidden agreement.
No personal favor.
That mattered.
So I accepted.
My first meeting began at ten.
Seven men sat around a walnut conference table.
Every one of them looked at me like someone had accidentally invited the waitress.
Alessandro introduced nobody.
He simply pointed to a chair beside him.
“Claire sits here.”
A heavyset man named Carlo DeSantis frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
That was Alessandro’s answer to most questions.
The meeting concerned a waterfront redevelopment contract.
I understood perhaps sixty percent.
But I understood people.
Carlo touched his wedding ring whenever he lied.
Another man, Paul Vitale, stopped making eye contact when discussing permits.
Victor remained almost unnaturally still when anyone mentioned a company called Meridian Logistics.
Afterward, Alessandro closed the office door.
“Well?”
“Carlo lied three times.”
Victor's eyebrows rose.
“About?”
“The subcontractors.”
Alessandro nodded.
“Anything else?”
“Paul knows something about the permits.”
“Good.”
“And Victor hates Meridian Logistics.”
Silence.
Victor looked at me.
Alessandro looked at Victor.
I immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut.
Victor slowly smiled.
“She’s good.”
“Why?” Alessandro asked him.
Victor’s smile disappeared.
“Meridian was your father's.”
Alessandro went still.
I looked between them.
“I thought Romano Holdings belonged to your father.”
“It did,” Alessandro said.
Victor walked toward the window.
“Meridian was different.”
“How?”
Neither answered.
That evening, Alessandro drove me to Mercy General.
I hadn't asked him.
He simply announced he was going.
My mother was sitting upright when we entered.
She looked at Alessandro.
Then me.
Then him again.
“So,” she said, “you're the cup thrower.”
I wanted the floor to open.
Alessandro cleared his throat.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Terrible manners.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Sit.”
He sat.
I had never seen anyone order Alessandro Romano around.
Apparently dying mothers had diplomatic immunity.
Mom studied him.
“My daughter doesn't need saving.”
“I know.”
“She needs sleep.”
“I noticed.”
“She also needs to stop pretending she can carry everything herself.”
“Mom.”
“What? I'm sick. I get to embarrass you.”
Alessandro smiled.
Then Mom suddenly began coughing.
The smile vanished.
I reached for her oxygen line.
A nurse hurried in.
Alessandro stepped back.
For a moment, he looked helpless.
That was the first time I saw the man beneath the reputation.
Power could buy buildings.
Doctors.
Security.
Political access.
It could not make lungs work.
Outside the room later, Alessandro stood silently beside me.
“My mother died when I was nineteen,” he said.
I looked at him.
He had never mentioned her.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
Something in his voice told me that wasn't the entire answer.
Before I could ask, Victor appeared at the end of the corridor.
His expression was wrong.
“Alessandro.”
One word.
Alessandro immediately changed.
The softness disappeared.
“What?”
Victor handed him a phone.
Alessandro listened.
His face hardened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Don't touch anything.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Nothing involving you.”
He started walking.
I followed.
“Alessandro.”
He stopped.
“A man from this morning’s meeting is dead.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“Carlo.”
The man with the wedding ring.
The liar.
“How?”
Alessandro looked at Victor.
Victor answered.
“Car accident.”
I remembered what Alessandro had just told me.
His mother.
Car accident.
I looked at him.
He knew what I was thinking.
“This is why I hired you,” he said quietly.
Then Victor’s phone rang again.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked directly at me.
“Boss.”
Alessandro turned.
Victor slowly lowered the phone.
“Someone accessed Claire’s employee file at Rosie’s twenty minutes ago.”
My skin went cold.
“Who?”
Victor shook his head.
“They didn't leave a name.”
Alessandro's eyes hardened.
“What did they take?”
May you like
Victor looked at me.
“Her home address.”
