Chapter 5 - The Price of Saving a Moretti
Cara stayed at the estate three more days.
Then she packed.
Dante found her near the front entrance carrying her cheap suitcase.
“What’s this?”
“My stuff.”
“I can see that.”
“I’m going home.”
“Why?”
Cara stared at him.
“Because normal people eventually leave mansions.”
“You’re safe here.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Dante frowned.
Cara put down the suitcase.
“For one week, drivers opened doors for me. People cooked my breakfast. Marco threatened a delivery guy because my pizza arrived cold.”
“He was disrespectful.”
“He was sixteen.”
Dante almost smiled.
Cara continued.
“This isn’t my life.”
“What do you want?”
“My apartment. My job. My terrible coffee maker.”
“Your landlord started eviction proceedings.”
Cara’s face changed.
“How do you know that?”
“I investigated.”
“You investigated me?”
“I needed to know whether anyone could use something against you.”
“Dante.”
“Your rent is four months behind.”
Her embarrassment turned into anger.
“Stay out of my finances.”
“I can fix it.”
“No.”
“I could buy the building.”
“Absolutely not!”
He actually looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because normal people don’t solve rent problems by purchasing apartment buildings.”
“I’m beginning to understand why normal people are stressed.”
Cara stared at him.
Then laughed despite herself.
Dante’s expression softened.
“I owe you my life.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I would be dead.”
“And I’d still be late on rent.”
“What do you want, Cara?”
She became serious.
“A choice.”
Dante said nothing.
“I spent years being invisible because invisible people don’t get hurt. Then I met you and suddenly everybody is deciding what’s best for me.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“I need my life back.”
Dante stepped aside.
Cara had expected an argument.
Instead he said, “All right.”
She hesitated.
“That’s it?”
“You asked for a choice.”
“Yes.”
“So choose.”
Cara looked at him for several seconds.
“Thank you.”
Dante nodded.
Marco drove her home.
Bellini’s fired her the following morning.
Her manager wouldn’t look at her.
“Vanessa Moretti’s arrest put the restaurant in every newspaper.”
Cara stared at him.
“I prevented a murder.”
“You caused publicity.”
“I caused publicity?”
“I’m sorry.”
Cara untied her apron.
“No, you’re not.”
She walked out.
For the first time in eight years, Cara had no job.
Three days later, she was sitting inside a laundromat reviewing employment listings when someone sat beside her.
Dante.
Cara stared.
“You have people who do laundry.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To offer you a job.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“If it involves organized crime, bodyguards, cliffs, or your family, no.”
“It involves restaurants.”
She paused.
Dante handed her a folder.
Inside were documents for three legitimate restaurants owned by one of his companies.
“You’re good with people,” he said.
“I carry plates.”
“You notice things other people miss.”
“That’s because rich people talk like furniture can’t hear them.”
“I need someone to oversee guest operations.”
Cara looked at the salary.
Her eyes widened.
“This has too many zeros.”
“It has the correct number.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I saved your life.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re qualified.”
Cara looked skeptical.
Dante added, “And because apparently I enjoy being told no.”
She smiled.
May you like
“Now that I believe.”
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