Chapter 2 - The Girl Upstairs
Maya did not sleep.
She tried.
The hotel bed was warmer than anything she had touched in weeks, Lily was fed and sleeping in a borrowed bassinet, and the room contained enough blankets to survive an Arctic expedition.
Maya still sat upright until sunrise.
Dante’s coat remained draped across the chair.
Every time she looked at it, she saw the photograph again.
Old debts find new faces.
At seven twenty, someone knocked.
Maya froze.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two more.
Marco had told her that would be the security signal.
She opened the door two inches.
A little girl stared back.
She had dark hair, pink pajamas, one sock, and a stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm.
Maya blinked.
The girl blinked.
“You’re not Daddy.”
“No.”
“You’re in Daddy’s hotel.”
“Apparently.”
The child considered that.
“Are you lost?”
Maya looked around the room.
“Possibly.”
The girl nodded as though this made perfect sense.
Then she noticed Lily.
Her eyes widened.
“Is that a baby?”
“No. Very small accountant.”
The girl looked at Maya.
Maya waited.
Then the child grinned.
“I’m Emma.”
Of course she was.
Maya had seen photographs of Dante Moretti’s daughter online after Marco mentioned her.
Six years old.
Only child.
Her mother had died three years earlier.
“You shouldn’t be wandering hotel hallways alone, Emma.”
“I’m not alone.”
A large man appeared around the corner, looking deeply exhausted.
“Miss Emma.”
“I told you I was getting cereal.”
“You said you were going to the sitting room.”
“The cereal is near the sitting room.”
He closed his eyes.
Maya understood immediately.
Emma leaned closer.
“What’s the baby’s name?”
“Lily.”
“Can she talk?”
“She mostly files complaints.”
Emma nodded solemnly.
“So did I when I was a baby.”
“How do you know?”
“Daddy says.”
A voice behind her said, “Daddy says a great many things he regrets later.”
Maya looked up.
Dante stood at the end of the hallway.
No coat this time.
Dark trousers.
White shirt.
Sleeves rolled to his forearms.
For some reason, this version of him was more unsettling than the suit.
Less armor.
Emma turned.
“Daddy!”
Dante’s entire face changed.
Not dramatically.
That was what made Maya notice.
The tension around his eyes eased.
Emma ran toward him.
He bent automatically, picked her up and kissed the top of her head.
“You escaped.”
“I got hungry.”
“You had breakfast waiting upstairs.”
“I wanted different cereal.”
“Of course you did.”
Emma wrapped her arms around his neck.
Maya looked away.
She shouldn’t have been surprised.
Dangerous men had families too.
But the same man who had gone cold when Marco mentioned Caruso was now listening with absolute seriousness as a six-year-old explained why chocolate cereal tasted better when stolen from another floor.
It didn’t fit.
Maya distrusted things that didn’t fit.
Dante carried Emma back toward her.
“You met.”
“She has a baby.”
“I noticed.”
Emma whispered loudly, “She’s funny.”
Maya said, “I charge by the hour.”
Dante’s mouth twitched.
Emma pointed at Lily.
“Can I see her?”
“If you wash your hands first.”
“I washed them yesterday.”
“Today is unfortunately a new day.”
Emma sighed.
Adults were exhausting.
Dante set her down.
“Bathroom. Soap. Twenty seconds.”
Emma ran inside.
Maya folded her arms.
“You let your daughter wander around guarded by refrigerator-sized men?”
“He was two steps behind her.”
“Looked more like thirty.”
“He’s new.”
“Maybe promote somebody faster.”
Dante leaned against the doorframe.
“You didn’t sleep.”
Neither had he.
She could see it.
“What happened with the photo?”
“We’re looking into it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Marco is identifying who took it.”
“And Caruso?”
His gaze sharpened.
“You know the name.”
“Bellhaven has newspapers.”
“Newspapers print the acceptable version.”
“I’m guessing you’re about to tell me the unacceptable version.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if the message has nothing to do with you, I see no reason to drag you into my problems.”
“And if it does?”
Dante said nothing.
That answer annoyed her.
Maya looked toward Lily.
“I’m leaving today.”
“No.”
Her head snapped back.
Dante seemed to hear himself.
He corrected it.
“I don’t think that’s wise.”
“Better.”
A pause.
“I want a job.”
He stared at her.
“That wasn’t what I expected.”
“I need income.”
“You just had a baby.”
“I’m aware.”
“You need rest.”
“I need rent.”
“You can stay here.”
“For how long?”
“As long as necessary.”
“No.”
“Maya—”
“You knew my name?”
He stopped.
She pointed at him.
“You just said Maya.”
“Marco ran your identification after we checked you in.”
Her expression hardened.
“Without asking me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It was security.”
“That’s what creepy rich people call creepy things.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Maya continued.
“I’m not living in your hotel indefinitely. I’m not taking money. I’m not becoming some charity project you forget about when you find the next disaster on the sidewalk.”
Dante’s amusement disappeared.
“I don’t collect disasters.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“You’re remarkably difficult to help.”
“I’ve noticed people are more comfortable helping when they control the terms.”
That landed.
Dante studied her.
Then nodded once.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“You want work. I own hotels.”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose.
“You just said—”
“I’m not taking a job because you own the building.”
“Why?”
“Because then it’s charity with payroll tax.”
Dante stared at her.
Emma came racing back into the room.
“Twenty seconds!”
Maya inspected her hands.
“Soap?”
Emma looked offended.
“Yes.”
“Both sides?”
Another pause.
Emma ran back to the bathroom.
Dante looked at Maya.
“She’s going to like you.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“For whom?”
“I haven’t decided.”
By ten that morning, Dante had arranged exactly what Maya told him not to arrange.
Not a job.
An interview.
The distinction mattered enough that she agreed.
The general manager of the Moretti Grand did not know Dante had sent her.
At least that was what Dante claimed.
Maya suspected the man had been born lying convincingly.
She arrived wearing borrowed clothes supplied by the hotel concierge and carrying Lily in a baby carrier.
Dante had offered childcare.
Maya declined.
Again.
The interview lasted forty-five minutes.
Maya described her experience with accounts payable, payroll reconciliation, vendor records and scheduling.
The manager, Helen Price, looked skeptical at first.
Then interested.
Then annoyed.
“Why were you working reception at a dental office if you can do this?”
“Because the dental office hired me.”
Helen stared.
“Fair.”
Maya was offered a temporary administrative position.
Four hours a day initially.
Flexible breaks for Lily.
Nothing glamorous.
Real pay.
When Maya walked out, Dante stood across the lobby speaking with three men.
She waited until they finished.
“I got it.”
“I heard.”
“You listened?”
“Helen texted me.”
“You said she didn’t know.”
“She didn’t.”
“She knows now.”
“Yes.”
Maya narrowed her eyes.
“Did you tell her to hire me?”
“No.”
“Swear.”
Dante went still.
“I don’t swear lightly.”
“Convenient.”
He leaned closer.
“She wanted someone who understands vendor reconciliation. Apparently you corrected two errors in the test spreadsheet.”
“Three.”
That actually surprised him.
“Three?”
“She hasn’t found the third yet.”
Dante laughed.
Not the restrained half-smile from the street.
An actual laugh.
Several employees in the lobby looked over.
Their shock told Maya something important.
This did not happen often.
Emma appeared at noon with a nanny.
She immediately ran to Lily.
That became the beginning.
Not dramatically.
There was no instant family.
Emma simply started finding excuses to visit.
She wanted to hold Lily.
Then she wanted to choose Lily’s socks.
Then she insisted babies needed bedtime stories even if they couldn’t understand them.
A week later, Maya found Emma sitting beside Lily’s bassinet reading a book about dragons with fierce concentration.
“You know she’s asleep.”
“I’m finishing the chapter.”
“Respectable.”
Dante stood in the doorway.
He watched his daughter.
Something moved behind his eyes.
Maya noticed.
She wished she hadn’t.
Over the next several weeks, Maya began learning the details nobody printed about Dante Moretti.
He hated olives.
He drank coffee so strong it smelled like punishment.
He rarely raised his voice.
He knew every employee’s name at his hotel.
He also disappeared into private meetings where men came out looking terrified.
One evening Maya worked late.
At eleven fifteen, Dante returned to the hotel.
He looked exhausted.
Marco was beside him speaking about something involving shipments.
Dante interrupted.
“One minute.”
He went upstairs.
Maya assumed he had forgotten something.
Ten minutes later, he came back down.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What?”
“You went upstairs.”
“Emma’s sleeping.”
“So?”
“I check.”
“Every night?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you get home this late?”
“Yes.”
That one word did something inconvenient inside her chest.
She looked back at her computer.
“Monsters?”
Dante stopped.
“What?”
“Under the bed.”
He stared.
Then smiled faintly.
“Sometimes.”
“Find any?”
“Several.”
“Dangerous?”
“Extremely.”
She laughed.
He walked away.
That should have been all.
It wasn’t.
That night, lying beside Lily, Maya caught herself thinking about a man checking beneath his daughter’s bed after midnight.
She was annoyed with herself.
Three days later, the past knocked.
Literally.
Maya had finally moved from the hotel into a small furnished apartment owned by an elderly woman named Mrs. Alvarez.
She had insisted on paying the security deposit herself.
Dante argued.
Maya won.
Barely.
At eight that evening, someone knocked.
Maya expected Mrs. Alvarez.
She opened the door.
Connor Hale stood there.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
He looked almost the same.
Blond hair.
Blue eyes.
The smile that had once convinced Maya he could be trusted.
He held flowers.
“Hi, May.”
Her stomach turned.
Only one person called her that.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“No.”
His eyes moved past her.
Toward Lily.
Maya stepped into the doorway.
Connor swallowed.
“That’s her?”
“Leave.”
“Maya.”
“You disappeared when I was seven months pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You changed your number.”
“I know.”
“You emptied our joint account.”
His face tightened.
“I was scared.”
“You were thirty-one.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t scared.”
“Go be scared somewhere else.”
She started closing the door.
Connor caught it.
Maya’s voice changed.
“Move your hand.”
He did.
Immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughed once.
“You had months.”
“I messed up.”
“You made choices.”
“I want to fix them.”
“No.”
“I want to know my daughter.”
The words hit differently.
Maya hated that.
Connor saw it.
“She’s mine too.”
“Biology is not parenting.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Footsteps sounded from the stairs.
Connor glanced over.
His expression changed.
Dante reached the landing.
No bodyguards visible.
Somehow that made him more intimidating.
“Maya?”
Connor stared at him.
Recognition flickered.
Then something else.
Fear.
Dante noticed.
Maya noticed Dante noticing.
Connor recovered.
“Dante Moretti.”
Dante’s eyes remained on Connor.
“Do I know you?”
“No.”
Connor smiled too quickly.
“I know who you are.”
“Many people do.”
Maya almost groaned.
Male ego had apparently entered the building.
“This is Connor.”
Dante’s eyes shifted toward her.
The name was enough.
She had told him part of the story.
Not much.
Enough.
Dante looked back at Connor.
“You should leave.”
Connor laughed softly.
“I’m talking to Maya.”
“She asked you to leave.”
“Are you her boyfriend?”
Silence.
Maya said, “That is none of your business.”
Connor’s smile sharpened.
“Then why is he here?”
Dante answered before Maya could.
“I brought Emma’s backpack.”
He lifted it.
A pink unicorn bag.
Connor looked ridiculous trying to remain confrontational.
Maya nearly smiled.
Connor looked from the backpack to Dante.
Then to Maya.
“You’re taking care of his kid?”
“I help occasionally.”
“Interesting.”
Something in his tone chilled her.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
Connor stepped backward.
“I’ll call you.”
“No, you won’t.”
He walked toward the stairs.
Dante watched him disappear.
Then handed Maya the unicorn backpack.
“I dislike him.”
“You knew him for forty seconds.”
“I was efficient.”
She shut the door.
Dante entered only after she nodded.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did he ever?”
“Not physically.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“He took money. He left. That’s enough.”
“Yes.”
Maya looked toward Lily.
“What do I do if he actually wants custody?”
“We find an attorney.”
“We?”
Dante sighed.
“You find an attorney.”
“Better.”
He placed the backpack on the table.
Then stopped.
A photograph had slipped from the outer pocket.
Emma had apparently used the bag to store drawings, crayons and several random objects.
Dante bent to pick it up.
It wasn’t Emma’s.
It was an old photograph Maya had left on the table.
Her mother.
Twenty years younger.
Standing outside a restaurant.
Dante stared.
Maya noticed.
“What?”
He picked up the photograph.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What was her name?”
“Evelyn Bennett.”
He looked at the restaurant sign behind her.
The color drained slightly from his face.
“What?”
Dante turned the photograph around.
“Where was this taken?”
“I don’t know. One of her old jobs.”
“Did she work there long?”
“Years, I think.”
His eyes remained on the sign.
Maya stepped closer.
“What is it?”
Dante tapped the faded logo.
A crowned lion.
“I know this restaurant.”
“So?”
“It belonged to Vincent Caruso.”
Maya stared.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Dante looked again at Evelyn Bennett smiling in the old photograph.
Then at Maya.
“When did your mother die?”
“Eight years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“What kind?”
The question irritated her.
“Why does that matter?”
Dante didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he took out his phone.
“Marco.”
Maya grabbed his wrist.
“No.”
He stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
“About my mother?”
“Yes.”
“You ask me first.”
His jaw tightened.
Then, after a moment, he lowered the phone.
“All right.”
Maya pointed at the photograph.
“Tell me why this matters.”
Dante looked directly at her.
“Eight years ago, three people connected to Caruso’s financial records died within fourteen months.”
Maya stopped breathing.
“What?”
“One was an accountant.”
“My mother was a bookkeeper.”
“I know.”
“You think—”
“I don’t know yet.”
She stepped away.
“No.”
“Maya.”
“It was an accident.”
“Maybe.”
“The police said—”
“I know what police reports said.”
She looked at him.
There it was again.
The part of Dante’s world nobody discussed in daylight.
Maya hugged herself.
“My mother was driving home.”
Dante’s voice softened.
“I’m not saying otherwise.”
“You just told me people died.”
“I told you enough to explain why I’m concerned.”
Silence.
Lily stirred in the next room.
Maya stared at the photograph.
Her mother’s smile suddenly looked like evidence.
Then Dante noticed something.
He lifted the picture toward the lamp.
“What?”
“There’s writing on the back.”
Maya frowned.
“I’ve had that picture for years.”
“You never saw it?”
“It was taped into an album.”
Dante carefully turned it over.
Faded ink covered one corner.
A number.
Then two words.
Maya leaned closer.
BELLHAVEN STORAGE — 317.
Below it, in her mother’s handwriting, was another line.
If anything happens to me, don’t trust the accident.
Maya’s knees nearly gave out.
Dante caught her elbow.
This time she didn’t pull away.
Because the dead could not knock on doors.
May you like
But eight years after Evelyn Bennett’s funeral, Maya’s mother had just reached through a photograph and done exactly that.
---
