Chapter 3 - The Offer He Couldn't Refuse
"Excuse me?" Clara blinked, her professional composure finally cracking as she looked down at the thick stack of cash sitting next to the broken risotto plate.
"You heard me," Rico said, his voice dropping into that smooth, authoritative cadence that commanded empires. He gently extricated Leo from Clara's hand, though the boy whimpered the second contact was broken. Rico pulled his son into his lap, and surprisingly, Leo didn't start screaming again. He just rested his heavy head against his father's expensive Brioni jacket, his thumb jammed securely into his mouth.
"I don't want to work for you, Mr. Moretti," Clara said honestly, standing up from the marble floor and brushing off her knees. "I have a job. Well, I had a job, until Marco here fired me about two minutes ago."
Marco, standing nearby, turned a terrifying shade of pale green. He rushed forward, waving his hands frantically. "No, no! Miss Clara! There has been a terrible misunderstanding! You are our finest employee! The promotion—yes, head hostess! No one is firing you!"
Clara looked at Marco with dry amusement. "You literally told me to get back to the kitchen and called me incompetent, Marco."
"I was having a stroke!" Marco babbled, sweating profusely as he glanced sideways at Rico’s stone-cold expression.
Rico didn't even look at the manager. He kept his eyes locked on Clara. "Marco, pack your things and leave. You're fired. Effective immediately. If I ever see your face in this neighborhood again, it'll be your last."
"Mr. Moretti, please—" Marco began, but two of Rico's guards grabbed him by the shoulders and efficiently escorted him out the back service exit before he could finish his sentence. The restaurant went dead silent again.
Rico shifted Leo slightly, adjusting the boy's weight. "As for you, Miss Vance. I don't take no for an answer. Especially not when my son has clearly made his choice."
"Your son is three, Mr. Moretti. He doesn't hire staff," Clara retorted, her survival instincts finally kicking in. Working for a mafia boss sounded like a fast track to an unmarked grave in the East River. She had spent the last two years running away from dangerous men; she wasn't about to walk right into the lion's den.
"He chose you," Rico countered, standing up. He was taller than she expected—easily six-foot-two—and his presence filled the space around him with an overwhelming gravity. "And right now, Leo hasn't eaten a proper meal in three days, he hasn't slept through the night since November, and every high-priced nanny in Manhattan has quit within forty-eight hours. You calmed him down in one minute."
"Because I understood him," Clara said sharply. "Money can't buy that, Mr. Moretti."
"Good thing I'm not offering money," Rico said smoothly, stepping closer to her. "I'm offering protection. And a salary that will clear every single debt you have, plus take care of whatever shadow you're looking over your shoulder for."
Clara froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened. How could he possibly know about that?
Rico noticed the micro-reaction instantly. A small, knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. "I own this city, Clara. I know who you are, where you came from, and why you're sleeping on a cot in a studio apartment in Astoria with a deadbolt on your bedroom door. Come work as Leo's full-time live-in companion at the estate. You get a salary of twenty thousand a month, full room and board, and my personal guarantee that no one will ever touch you again."
The offer was staggering. It was life-changing. But it was also a golden cage.
Clara looked down at little Leo, who had drifted off to sleep against his father's chest, his breathing finally deep and even. She thought of her empty bank account, the threatening letters stacked on her kitchen table, and the constant, gnawing fear of being found.
"Live-in?" Clara whispered.
"At the Moretti estate in Greenwich," Rico confirmed. "You'll have your own suite, security detail, and complete control over Leo's care. Well? Do we have a deal?"
May you like
Clara looked from the terrifying mafia boss to the sleeping child. She knew she was walking into a war zone, but for the first time in months, she felt like she had a purpose.
"Fine," Clara said, her voice firm. "But on my terms."
