Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Moretti Table
The Moretti estate sat behind stone walls north of Manhattan.
Maya met Clara at the entrance.
“You’re okay!”
Clara hugged her tightly.
“I’m fine.”
Maya looked over Clara’s shoulder at Lorenzo.
“So that’s him?”
“Maya.”
“What? I’m curious.”
Lorenzo extended a hand.
“Maya.”
She shook it.
“My sister thinks you’re insane.”
“Maya!”
Lorenzo almost smiled.
“She may be right.”
At dinner, Clara met the Moretti family.
Vittorio Moretti arrived last.
Lorenzo’s uncle was silver-haired, elegant, and warm in exactly the way Clara distrusted immediately.
“So this is Clara.”
He kissed her hand.
Clara withdrew it.
“This is me.”
Vittorio smiled.
“I hear you made quite an impression.”
“She made a choice,” Lorenzo said.
Vittorio took his seat.
“A dangerous habit.”
Dinner became a battlefield disguised as conversation.
Vittorio asked about Clara’s education.
Her family.
Her debts.
Her sister.
Then he smiled.
“And now Lorenzo has rescued you.”
Clara set down her fork.
“No.”
Vittorio blinked.
“No?”
“He created half my current problems.”
Lorenzo looked sideways at her.
Vittorio laughed.
“At least she understands you.”
“I understand enough.”
Vittorio’s smile thinned.
“Women entering this family usually learn discretion.”
Clara leaned back.
“Then it’s lucky I haven’t entered it.”
Silence.
Vittorio looked at Lorenzo.
“She refused?”
Lorenzo drank his wine.
“Repeatedly.”
“Interesting.”
Clara saw it.
A tiny reaction.
Not amusement.
Relief.
Why would Vittorio be relieved that she had refused?
Later, Clara found Lorenzo in his study.
“Your uncle wants me gone.”
“I know.”
“No. He wants me unmarried.”
That got Lorenzo’s attention.
“Explain.”
“When he heard I refused, he relaxed.”
Lorenzo stood.
“You’re sure?”
“I spent years waiting tables. My entire job is reading people before they complain.”
Matteo entered.
“Lorenzo.”
“What?”
“We found something.”
He placed a tablet on the desk.
Security footage from the Obsidian Lounge appeared.
The night Clara met Lorenzo.
“Watch Vittorio’s driver.”
A man crossed the background.
Clara leaned closer.
“That’s him.”
“You recognize him?”
“He was at table twelve.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“The guy who called me sweetheart.”
Matteo froze the image.
The man was speaking into his phone while watching Clara and Lorenzo.
“So Vittorio knew about Clara before we left the lounge,” Matteo said.
Lorenzo’s expression went cold.
Clara looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” Lorenzo said, “the attack wasn’t improvised.”
Matteo nodded.
“They were waiting for an opportunity.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“Then give them one.”
Both men stared at her.
Lorenzo said, “Absolutely not.”
“You need proof.”
“Not using you.”
“They already are.”
“No.”
Clara walked toward him.
“You wanted a wife because nobody controls me?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop trying to control me.”
“That is different.”
“Because you’re doing it?”
Lorenzo’s jaw flexed.
Matteo quietly backed toward the door.
Clara continued.
“Let Vittorio believe I accepted.”
Lorenzo went still.
“Accepted what?”
May you like
She looked directly at him.
“Your proposal.”
