Chapter 2 - The Ride Home With a Moretti
Isabella held Sophie’s hand for most of the drive.
Lorenzo sat across from them.
“You can stop staring at me,” Sophie said.
“I’m not staring.”
“You haven’t looked anywhere else for six blocks.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You always speak to employers this way?”
“You’re not my employer.”
“Yet.”
“Keep saying things like that and you never will be.”
Isabella giggled.
Lorenzo looked at his mother.
“What?”
“I like her.”
“So do I.”
Sophie looked at him sharply.
Lorenzo corrected himself.
“My mother likes you.”
“That isn’t what you said.”
“No.”
The sedan stopped outside a modest apartment building.
Lorenzo looked through the window.
“You live here?”
“That sounded judgmental.”
“It was observational.”
“Rich people call judgment observational.”
The door opened.
A thin twelve-year-old boy appeared in the lobby wearing pajama pants.
“Sophie!”
She immediately got out.
“Toby, why are you downstairs?”
“You were late.”
“I texted.”
“You said eleven.”
“It’s twelve-thirty.”
“Exactly.”
Then Toby noticed Lorenzo.
His eyes widened.
“Who’s Dracula?”
Sophie closed her eyes.
“Toby.”
Lorenzo stepped out.
“Dracula?”
“You’re dressed all in black.”
“I was at a gala.”
“That sounds like something Dracula would say.”
Isabella laughed from the car.
Lorenzo looked at Sophie.
“Your brother?”
“Yes.”
“I like him.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
Toby noticed Isabella.
“Is she okay?”
Sophie’s expression softened.
“She had a difficult night.”
Toby stepped toward the car.
“Hi.”
Isabella smiled.
“Hello.”
“I’m Toby.”
“Isabella.”
“Do you want my jacket?”
Sophie stared at him.
“You’re wearing pajamas.”
“I have a hoodie upstairs.”
Isabella’s eyes filled with tears.
“You’re like your sister.”
Lorenzo became quiet.
Then Isabella suddenly looked toward the driver.
Her smile disappeared.
“That man.”
Everyone turned.
“What man, Mama?” Lorenzo asked.
“The man at the house.”
The driver glanced into the mirror.
Lorenzo’s posture changed.
“What man?”
Isabella frowned, trying to remember.
“The one arguing.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. Maybe tomorrow.”
Sophie recognized the confusion.
“Don’t push her.”
Lorenzo ignored Sophie.
“Who was he arguing with?”
Isabella touched her forehead.
“I don’t know.”
“Mama.”
“Lorenzo.”
Sophie’s voice hardened.
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“She’s overwhelmed.”
“I need to know what she saw.”
“And she needs to feel safe more than you need an answer.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Lorenzo sat back.
“You’re right.”
Toby leaned toward Sophie.
“He says that to you a lot.”
“He’s learning.”
Lorenzo gave him a dry look.
The next morning, Sophie received a call.
“Miss Clark?”
“Yes?”
“This is Lorenzo Moretti.”
“How did you get my number?”
Silence.
“Right. Mafia.”
“I prefer logistics.”
Sophie nearly laughed.
“What do you want?”
“My mother remembered something.”
“What?”
“She wants you.”
Sophie sat up.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s refusing breakfast.”
“That’s not an emergency.”
“She threw oatmeal at my physician.”
“That sounds more like a staffing problem.”
“She asked for you eleven times.”
Sophie sighed.
“I have a shift.”
“You were fired.”
“What?”
“The agency terminated you this morning.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Beatrice Vain complained.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
Rent.
Medication.
Groceries.
“Did you interfere?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But I can.”
“No.”
“Sophie—”
“No.”
A pause.
Then Lorenzo said, “Come work for my mother.”
“How much?”
He named a number.
Sophie thought she misheard.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It includes medical insurance for you and Toby.”
She went silent.
He had found the weak point.
“You researched me.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that.”
“I assumed you would.”
“Then why do it?”
“Because people around me are researched.”
“That isn’t normal.”
“Neither is my life.”
Sophie looked toward Toby’s bedroom.
“When do you need an answer?”
“Yesterday.”
“You’ll get one tonight.”
Another pause.
“You really enjoy making me wait.”
“I’m beginning to.”
That afternoon, Sophie arrived at the Moretti estate.
Isabella was sitting in the garden.
The moment she saw Sophie, she smiled.
“My brave girl.”
Sophie crouched beside her.
“Did you throw oatmeal at a doctor?”
“He deserved it.”
From behind them, Lorenzo said, “He did not.”
Isabella whispered, “He did.”
Sophie laughed.
Then Isabella grabbed her wrist.
Her expression changed.
“The man.”
“What man?”
“The one I told Enzo about.”
Sophie looked toward Lorenzo.
Isabella leaned closer.
“He said I should never have come home.”
Lorenzo stopped breathing.
“Who said that?”
Isabella whispered two words.
May you like
“Uncle Marco.”
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