Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind Room 3201
The standoff lasted forty-three minutes.
Nobody died.
Luca's men quietly evacuated guests through the east stairwell while Atlantic City police surrounded the garage.
Salvatore Vescari was arrested attempting to leave through the loading dock.
By midnight, the hotel was secure.
I expected Luca to send us home.
Instead, he asked me to wait.
Jamie had fallen asleep on the penthouse couch.
I covered him with my housekeeping cardigan.
Luca stood near the windows.
“You should fire me.”
He looked over.
“Why?”
“I broke your rules.”
“Yes.”
“I brought my child into the hotel.”
“Yes.”
“I entered your penthouse.”
“You were invited.”
“Eventually.”
That almost-smile appeared again.
I folded my arms.
“What happens now?”
“You go home.”
“And tomorrow?”
“You come to work.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because being poor isn't misconduct.”
I didn't know how to answer that.
He continued.
“Derek altered your attendance records.”
“What?”
“He classified approved bereavement leave as unexcused absence.”
My anger rose.
“Why?”
“He's been doing it to several employees. Creates violations, threatens termination, then offers to erase them in exchange for unpaid overtime.”
I felt sick.
Luca looked toward the hallway.
“He no longer works here.”
“You fired him?”
“Jamie did.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“He said he didn't like him.”
I stared.
Luca held my gaze for several seconds.
Then his expression cracked.
He was joking.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
It was the first genuine laugh I'd had in months.
Luca looked surprised by it.
Then Jamie stirred.
“Mom?”
I went to him.
“I'm here.”
He sat up.
“Pancakes.”
“It's midnight.”
“You promised.”
Luca checked his watch.
“The kitchen's still staffed.”
I shook my head.
“You don't have to—”
Jamie looked at Luca.
“Do mafia guys eat pancakes?”
Every person in the room froze.
My soul left my body.
“Jamie.”
“What?”
Luca stared at him.
Then slowly sat opposite him.
“Who told you I'm mafia?”
“The internet.”
Marco turned away.
His shoulders were shaking.
Luca glanced at me.
“You let your five-year-old search organized crime?”
“He knows how to use voice search.”
Jamie leaned forward.
“So?”
Luca sighed.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Mafia guys eat pancakes.”
“Chocolate chip?”
“Obviously.”
That was how my son ended the most terrifying night of my life eating pancakes at midnight with the Wolf of Atlantic City.
I should have known that wasn't the end.
May you like
It was the beginning.
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