Chapter 3 - The Woman at Vincent’s Right Hand
I accepted for one reason.
My mother.
Not because Vincent intimidated me.
Not because Adrian persuaded me.
And definitely not because I suddenly wanted to join the Moretti empire.
My contract was legitimate.
Moretti Holdings was a multinational company with hotels, shipping, construction, and real estate divisions.
What happened beyond those businesses was something I made very clear I wanted nothing to do with.
Vincent accepted that condition.
Barely.
On my first morning, he handed me a folder.
“Read it.”
I read it.
“You're being robbed.”
Six executives around the conference table looked horrified.
Vincent slowly turned toward me.
“Explain.”
“These invoices.”
I pushed the folder toward him.
“Three vendors. Different names, same formatting errors.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“You noticed that?”
“I spent two years reading medical bills. You learn quickly when somebody's inventing numbers.”
Vincent looked at his chief financial officer.
“Marcus?”
Marcus swallowed.
“We'll investigate.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
I pointed at the paperwork.
“You don't investigate after announcing you're investigating. Whoever did this will destroy the evidence.”
Vincent stared at me.
Then looked at Adrian.
“She stays.”
That became my life.
Meetings.
Arguments.
People terrified to disagree with Vincent.
And me disagreeing with him constantly.
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“That's a terrible idea.”
“You're angry. Decide tomorrow.”
Sometimes Vincent exploded.
Sometimes he ordered everyone out.
But increasingly, he listened.
Three weeks later, I entered his office and found Adrian waiting.
“How's your mother?”
“Better.”
“Treatment working?”
“So far.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
I watched him.
“You could've paid for everything yourself.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you would've hated me.”
“I barely know you.”
“Exactly. I wanted a chance to change that.”
I stared at him.
“Was that flirting?”
“Terrible attempt?”
“Catastrophic.”
“I'll improve.”
Before I could answer, Vincent entered.
“Why aren't either of you working?”
Adrian stood.
“I was flirting with Emily.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Was he any good?”
“No.”
“Gets that from his mother.”
“Father.”
Vincent sat down.
Then the door opened again.
His security chief, Carlo, entered.
His expression was serious.
“We have a problem.”
A photograph landed on Vincent's desk.
It showed me leaving St. Matthew's Hospital.
My mother was beside me in a wheelchair.
My stomach dropped.
“What is this?”
Carlo answered.
“Someone photographed Emily yesterday.”
Vincent became very still.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at him.
“You said my family wouldn't be involved.”
“They aren't.”
“Someone is following my mother!”
“And they will stop.”
“How?”
Vincent's eyes met mine.
“Because I'm asking.”
I understood exactly what that meant.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Emily—”
“No violence.”
“Someone threatened your mother.”
“And if you start a war, she becomes more vulnerable.”
Adrian stepped between us.
“She's right.”
Vincent glared at his son.
Adrian continued.
“Whoever took the picture wants you angry.”
I picked up the photograph.
“Then don't give them what they want.”
Vincent paced toward the window.
“You expect me to ignore this?”
“No.”
I studied the picture.
Then something caught my attention.
The reflection in the hospital window.
A vehicle.
Silver sedan.
Part of a license plate.
“Carlo.”
He approached.
“What?”
“Can you enlarge this?”
Twenty minutes later, we had a plate.
An hour later, we had a name.
Thomas Bellini.
The same businessman Vincent had been negotiating against.
Vincent smiled without humor.
“I'll handle it.”
“No.”
His head snapped toward me.
“We call the police.”
Several men almost laughed.
I didn't.
Vincent said, “You want me to call the police?”
“Yes.”
“On Bellini?”
“Yes.”
“And tell them what?”
“That he's stalking an employee and her sick mother.”
Vincent stared at me.
Then Adrian started laughing.
Vincent looked at him.
“What?”
Adrian shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You hired the only woman in Chicago trying to make you solve problems legally.”
Vincent looked back at me.
I raised my eyebrows.
“Well?”
He sighed.
“Carlo.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Call the police.”
Carlo blinked.
“Seriously?”
Vincent slammed his palm against the desk.
May you like
“Before I change my mind.”
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