Chapter 1 - THE HAND IN THE AIR
The slap never landed. Emma Carter caught the woman's wrist, and every conversation in the Chicago ballroom died.
Victoria Langford stared at the fingers wrapped around her diamonds.
“Take your hands off me.”
Behind Emma, an elderly woman shrank into her wheelchair. Her hands shook against a plain blue dress. One shoe had slipped sideways on the footrest.
Emma had been carrying empty glasses when she heard Victoria hiss, “You should have stayed where you belonged.” Then came the raised hand.
Now the tray sat abandoned on a table, and Emma's entire future hung between her fingers.
She was twenty-four. Her father needed another treatment. Her sister's tuition was due Friday. Twelve dollars in tips waited in her apron.
“I won't let you strike her.”
Victoria stepped closer. “You're a waitress. Do you understand what happens to people like you when they forget their place?”
Around them stood men who funded hospital wings and women who chaired charities. Nobody moved. A guest lowered his phone, embarrassed to be caught watching.
Emma wanted someone else to take over. Someone with money. Someone who could afford to be brave.
The elderly woman's fingertips caught the back of her apron.
“If protecting her costs me my job,” Emma said, “then I guess it costs me my job.”
Victoria's smile disappeared. “You'll regret this.”
Security approached through the crowd.
Then a man's voice stopped them.
“Release Miss Carter.”
Vincent Moretti stepped past a marble pillar. Emma recognized him from the hotel owner's portrait near the staff entrance. The ballroom seemed smaller with him in it.
Victoria straightened. “Mr. Moretti. This waitress assaulted me. I was simply trying to handle an unpleasant situation.”
He walked past her without answering.
Emma released Victoria's wrist. Her own hand shook so badly she pressed it against her skirt.
Vincent knelt beside the wheelchair.
“Mother.”
Someone's glass struck a saucer.
The elderly woman touched his cheek. “I'm all right, Vincent.”
Victoria took one backward step.
Vincent stood and faced Emma. “What is your name?”
“Emma… Emma Carter.”
“I'll remember it.”
His gaze shifted to Victoria, but his mother pulled gently at his sleeve.
“Before you ask her to leave,” she said, “ask what she wanted me to sign.”
Victoria's clutch snapped shut.
May you like
For the first time that night, Emma saw something stronger than anger cross the socialite's face.
Panic.
