Chapter 5 - The Waitress Who Refused His Fortune
The following morning, Rosa woke in a guest bedroom that cost more to furnish than her entire apartment.
Dante had offered her somewhere secure to stay after the break-in. She had initially refused, but when the police confirmed that her apartment lock needed replacing and someone had also been asking questions about her mother, she reluctantly agreed to spend one night at his Gold Coast residence.
One night.
She had made that condition very clear.
Dante had accepted it without argument.
Now, sunlight slipped through enormous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan.
Rosa sat up slowly.
Her cheek still hurt.
Someone had placed a small vase of white daisies on the bedside table.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
You once told me expensive flowers make you nervous because you feel guilty throwing them away. These were eight dollars from the grocery store. I kept the receipt.
Breakfast is downstairs. No obligations.
— Dante
Despite herself, Rosa smiled.
Then she remembered why she was there.
Her smile faded.
She showered, dressed in the jeans and cream sweater Dante's housekeeper had collected from her apartment, and walked downstairs.
The kitchen was larger than the restaurant where she once worked as a teenager.
White marble countertops.
Copper cookware.
A breakfast island with six leather stools.
And Dante Moretti, one of Chicago's most intimidating businessmen, standing in front of a toaster with an expression of absolute concentration.
Rosa stopped in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"Attempting breakfast."
"Attempting?"
"The first two pieces of toast were casualties."
She glanced at the trash can.
Two blackened slices rested inside.
For an instant, she was twenty again.
Laughing in a little rented kitchen while Dante argued that cooking required courage rather than competence.
He noticed her expression.
"What?"
"Nothing."
He placed a plate in front of her.
Toast, scrambled eggs, sliced strawberries, and a mug of coffee.
Two sugars.
Rosa looked down.
"You remembered."
"I remember more than you think."
Her chest tightened.
She sat.
They ate quietly until Dante's housekeeper entered carrying a cream-colored envelope.
"Mr. Moretti, the documents you requested."
"Thank you, Mrs. Alvarez."
He placed the envelope beside Rosa.
She looked suspiciously at it.
"What's that?"
"Options."
"Dante."
"Read it first."
Inside was a formal document offering to cover Margaret Bellamy's outstanding medical expenses through an independent patient-assistance fund.
There was also a temporary housing agreement and a letter from an attorney offering Rosa free legal representation regarding Victor's assault.
No conditions were listed.
No repayment terms.
No requirement that she remain near Dante.
Rosa read every page.
Then she pushed the envelope back.
"No."
Dante leaned against the counter.
"Which part?"
"All of it."
"Your mother needs medical care."
"I know what my mother needs."
"Then let me help."
"Why?"
He frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I'm the woman you once loved? Because you feel guilty? Because everyone online thinks you rescued some helpless waitress?"
"Rosa—"
"Or because you can afford to solve every problem with a signature?"
Dante remained silent.
She hated the sharpness in her own voice.
She hated even more that he looked hurt.
Finally, he pulled out the chair opposite her.
"Tell me what you want."
She stared.
"What?"
"Not what I think you need. What do you want?"
Rosa folded her hands.
"I want to be able to walk into my workplace without someone assuming I belong to you."
"All right."
"I want my mother's treatment handled by doctors, not favors."
"Agreed."
"I want Victor held responsible because he assaulted a woman, not because the woman happened to know Dante Moretti."
He nodded.
"And I want you to stop looking at me like I might disappear if you blink."
That one hurt.
She saw it.
Dante looked down at his coffee.
"I'll work on that."
Rosa swallowed.
Then she took one document from the envelope.
The lawyer's letter.
"I'll speak to her. But I'll make my own decisions."
"Of course."
"And I'm paying for my own housing once the apartment is repaired."
"All right."
"And don't offer me a job in one of your restaurants."
Dante paused.
She narrowed her eyes.
"You were going to, weren't you?"
"I own several excellent restaurants."
"Dante."
He raised both hands.
"No restaurant offers."
Rosa laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
For a fleeting second, the air between them became lighter.
Then her telephone rang.
The Grand Aurelia.
She answered.
"Rosa Bellamy speaking."
Her manager, Stephen Caldwell, sounded uncomfortable.
"Rosa. I hope you're feeling better."
"I'm managing."
"Listen, there's something we need to discuss."
She looked toward Dante.
"What is it?"
"Corporate reviewed the incident. Given the unwanted publicity, we've decided to temporarily remove you from the schedule."
Rosa went still.
"Remove me?"
"Paid leave for the first three days. After that, we'll reassess."
"Victor assaulted me."
"I understand. But the restaurant is receiving threatening calls, and the owners are worried about business."
"So you're punishing me?"
"That's not how we're describing it."
"How convenient."
Stephen lowered his voice.
"Rosa, I'm trying to keep my own job too."
She ended the call.
Dante watched her.
"What happened?"
"They've suspended me."
He reached for his phone.
Rosa pointed at him.
"Don't."
He froze.
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face said enough."
For several minutes, she sat in silence.
Then her phone began vibrating with social-media notifications.
A second video had appeared.
This one showed Victor's girlfriend, Vanessa Hargrove, laughing while Rosa stood beside the broken champagne glass.
The caption read:
A RICH MAN SLAPPED A WAITRESS. HIS GIRLFRIEND LAUGHED. NOW THE RESTAURANT HAS SENT THE WAITRESS HOME.
Comments multiplied by the second.
Some supported her.
Others questioned her relationship with Dante.
Several anonymous accounts accused her of staging the incident for money.
And one account had posted an image of her father.
Below it were five words.
Ask her about East Harbor.
Rosa felt sick.
"Someone is trying to turn this into something else."
Dante came around the counter.
"Show me."
She handed him the phone.
His expression darkened.
He recognized the account name.
Not because he had seen it before.
Because it used a phrase his uncle Carlo had repeated for years.
Family Above Everything.
A few minutes later, Marco entered the kitchen.
"We found something in the old Hargrove records."
He placed a thin folder on the island.
"Thomas Bellamy filed three structural-safety objections during the East Harbor project. All three were withdrawn before his death."
Rosa stared at him.
"My father would never withdraw a safety complaint unless the problem was fixed."
Marco nodded.
"That's what makes this interesting."
He opened the folder.
"The withdrawal forms weren't signed by Thomas."
Dante leaned forward.
"Who signed them?"
"According to the corporate authorization record, a representative acting on behalf of the investment partners."
"Name?"
Marco hesitated.
Then he turned the page.
At the bottom was a signature Rosa recognized from the past.
Carlo Moretti.
She covered her mouth.
"No."
Marco continued.
"There's something else. The original inspection report may still exist."
"Where?" Dante demanded.
"Thomas made a handwritten notation on his final expense claim. Three words."
Marco slid the paper toward Rosa.
She read them aloud.
"Little stars. Always."
Her heartbeat accelerated.
She remembered her father's bedroom.
The inexpensive plastic stars he had stuck to the ceiling when she was six.
The game they played whenever storms frightened her.
He would hide tiny notes beneath the stars, and she would find them by following clues.
It had been their private tradition.
"The little stars," she whispered.
Dante looked at her.
"You know where he meant?"
Rosa nodded.
"My parents never sold our old house."
"Where is it?"
"In Oak Park. Mom rents it to a family friend."
She stood so quickly her chair scraped against the floor.
"I need to go there."
Dante picked up his coat.
"I'll drive."
She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
But before they could leave, Marco received a call.
He listened for several seconds.
His face changed.
"Boss."
Dante stopped.
"What?"
"Someone got to the Oak Park property first."
Rosa felt her stomach drop.
Marco continued.
"The tenant just reported two men leaving through the back garden."
"What did they take?"
"We don't know."
Rosa was already moving toward the door.
May you like
For the first time in seven years, she reached for Dante's hand without thinking.
"Please," she whispered. "We have to get there."
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