Chapter 2 - THE CONTRACT THAT SHOULD NOT HAVE EXISTED
I sat down because Luca had asked me to, but I kept my hands folded tightly in my lap.
Thirty-two guests remained frozen around the table. Some looked embarrassed for having watched Marco's humiliation without questioning it. Others seemed fascinated by the possibility that the elegant woman in red had orchestrated the entire scene.
Vanessa was the only person who looked angry enough to break something.
“Are you seriously going to interrogate me in front of your guests?” she asked Luca.
“No,” he replied. “I'm going to establish what happened. If the truth embarrasses you, that's unfortunate.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You're taking the word of a housekeeper over mine?”
“I'm taking the word of someone who presented evidence.”
He glanced at the schedule I'd placed on the table.
“Those are different things.”
Before Vanessa could answer, Marco returned carrying a thick folder. He placed it in front of Luca, then removed two sheets of paper from a separate envelope.
“The original contract,” he said. “And the change request.”
Luca studied the documents.
The first showed the agreed dinner price for thirty-two guests. The second carried a timestamp of 4:31 p.m., twenty minutes after Vanessa's second phone call.
It authorized catering for fifty people and included an additional service charge.
At the bottom was a signature that looked like Marco's.
He leaned forward.
“I didn't sign that.”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Don't be ridiculous. You approved the change.”
“Not that one.”
Luca held the document toward the light.
“Marco, is this your signature?”
“No.”
“Vanessa?”
She lifted her chin.
“I wouldn't know. I didn't prepare the paperwork.”
Marco pointed to the lower corner.
“Look at the vendor.”
The room fell quiet again.
The company named on the document wasn't Luca's regular caterer. It was Bellini Hospitality Consulting, a company registered under Vanessa's cousin, Adrian Bellini.
Luca's jaw tightened.
“You told me Adrian's company only provided event coordination.”
“It does.”
“Then why is it billing me for food, staffing, and a service surcharge?”
“Because it arranged the catering.”
“Without my approval?”
Vanessa looked around the table, clearly searching for someone willing to support her.
Nobody moved.
She finally turned back to Luca.
“I was trying to take responsibility for our engagement dinner. You work constantly. You never let me handle anything important.”
“This dinner was important enough for you to falsify a manager's signature?”
“I did not falsify anything!”
Her voice cracked against the high ceiling.
Luca didn't react.
“Then explain the signature.”
Vanessa opened her mouth, then closed it.
For the first time, I saw fear beneath her anger.
Not fear of being embarrassed.
Fear of what Luca might discover next.
He instructed Marco to make copies of every document and asked his attorney, Daniel Pierce, to examine them. Daniel had attended the dinner as one of Luca's business advisers. He'd been silent throughout the confrontation, but now he removed his glasses and leaned over the paperwork.
“This is more serious than an inflated invoice,” he said. “If the signature is forged, someone used Marco's identity to authorize a financial transaction.”
Vanessa laughed sharply.
“Are we calling the police over nine thousand dollars?”
“No,” Luca said. “We're finding out whether nine thousand dollars is the only amount involved.”
That sentence changed the room.
Luca turned to me.
“Emma, did you see anyone near the kitchen schedule before dinner?”
I hesitated.
“I saw a courier arrive around four thirty.”
“Who was it?”
“I don't know. He wore a gray jacket and carried a leather envelope. Mrs. Bellini met him near the service entrance.”
Vanessa's face went still.
“You were watching me?”
“I was carrying clean linens past the door.”
“And you just happened to remember that?”
“I remember things that happen in front of me.”
Luca studied me for a moment.
“What did the envelope look like?”
“Dark brown. There was a silver clasp.”
Marco suddenly straightened.
“That's how Adrian's office sends documents.”
Vanessa turned toward him.
“Enough.”
It was a small word, but the desperation in it was unmistakable.
Luca noticed.
“Why are you afraid of the envelope?”
“I'm not.”
“Then you won't mind if Daniel asks your cousin about it.”
She stared at Luca as if she no longer recognized the man sitting before her.
Perhaps she didn't.
For months, I'd watched him tolerate her demands with a patience that people mistook for weakness. He rarely argued in public. He didn't humiliate people to entertain a crowd. His power was the kind that made others lower their voices before he entered a room.
But tonight, every unanswered question seemed to make him colder.
He dismissed the guests only after Daniel collected the documents and recorded the names of those who had witnessed the confrontation.
Vanessa refused to leave with the others.
“This is our engagement dinner,” she said when the room had emptied. “Our wedding is six weeks away. You cannot destroy everything we've planned because of a misunderstanding.”
Luca stood beside the table.
“Then help me understand.”
She reached for his hand.
He didn't take it.
“Adrian's company will refund the money,” she said. “I'll handle it tomorrow. You don't need to involve anyone else.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because it's late.”
“Why not tonight?”
“Luca, please.”
Her voice had softened. The anger was gone, replaced by something almost tender.
I recognized the performance. I'd seen her use it with household staff whenever she wanted an unpleasant task completed without witnesses.
Luca wasn't fooled.
“Go home, Vanessa.”
Her lips parted.
“Are you throwing me out?”
“I'm asking you to leave while I decide what happens next.”
She looked toward me.
“You should be careful, Emma. People who become important to powerful men often discover how quickly that importance disappears.”
Luca stepped between us.
“Don't speak to her.”
Vanessa's expression twisted.
Then she picked up her purse and walked out.
The front door closed behind her.
I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
Luca turned toward me.
“Daniel will take you home.”
“That's not necessary.”
“It's late.”
“I take the bus.”
“Not tonight.”
I should have accepted the ride and gone home. Instead, something compelled me to ask the question that had been pressing against my ribs since the first document appeared.
“Mr. Moretti, what if this wasn't only about dinner?”
He studied me.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because Mrs. Bellini didn't look like someone who was afraid of losing nine thousand dollars.”
“What did she look like?”
“Someone who was afraid of being asked about something much bigger.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he opened the folder again and examined the forged signature.
“That's what I'm beginning to suspect.”
As Daniel escorted me toward the entrance, Luca called after us.
“Emma.”
I turned.
“Tomorrow morning, come to my office at nine. Not the housekeeping office. Mine.”
My stomach tightened.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
He looked at the documents.
“But I think you may have just helped me uncover a problem that's been growing for months.”
I barely slept that night.
At eight forty-five the next morning, I entered Luca's private office carrying a notebook and a cup of coffee.
He was already there with Daniel and Marco.
On the desk lay a stack of invoices from three different companies.
Luca pushed the top sheet toward me.
“Read the vendor names.”
I did.
Then I noticed something that made my fingers go cold.
Each company had a different name.
But every invoice listed the same mailing address.
May you like
An address I recognized.
It belonged to my mother's restaurant.
