Chapter 1 - The Bad Lady Hears
“Don’t marry her,” the little girl whispered. “She said Mommy could disappear.”
Lorenzo Duca stopped with his hand on his study door.
Three-year-old Mia Hayes stood barefoot in the hallway, clutching a stuffed rabbit with one missing ear. Her pajama shirt hung off one shoulder. She looked past him before she looked up.
“What did you say?”
She grabbed his index finger.
“Come. But quiet.”
People in Boston crossed streets to avoid Lorenzo. Men who owed him money lost sleep over the sound of a car slowing outside their homes.
Now a child was pulling him down his own hallway.
At the east staircase, Mia pressed a finger against her lips.
“The bad lady hears.”
She led him toward Vivien’s bedroom.
His fiancée’s door stood open an inch.
Inside, Elena Hayes was backed against a dresser, still wearing her work apron. She held a stack of folded towels against her chest.
Vivien stood close enough to keep her from moving.
“You will tell Lorenzo his mother wants this wedding.”
Elena’s answer was quiet.
“She told me she doesn’t.”
“She had a stroke. Half the time she can barely say your name.”
“She understands what people say.”
“Then understand this.” Vivien leaned forward. “I don’t need a maid deciding what my future husband hears.”
“I won’t lie for you.”
Lorenzo felt Mia’s fingers tighten.
Vivien smiled.
It was a small expression. Almost pleasant.
“One call, Elena. That’s all it takes. No agency in Boston will touch you.”
Elena lowered the towels.
“Then I’ll find something else.”
“And your daughter?”
The hallway seemed to shrink around him.
Vivien glanced toward the window overlooking the water.
“Gates get left open. Cameras fail. Terrible things happen when mothers aren’t paying attention.”
Lorenzo bent before Mia could see his face.
She pushed against him immediately, burying her mouth in his jacket.
“How long has she been mean to Mommy?” he whispered.
Mia held up three fingers.
He didn’t know whether she meant days, weeks, or something a child couldn’t measure.
Later, Elena would tell him.
Three months.
Inside the bedroom, Vivien spoke again.
“Tomorrow morning, you’ll bring his mother downstairs. You’ll tell Lorenzo she gave us her blessing.”
“No.”
A sharp crash followed.
Mia flinched so hard her rabbit fell.
Lorenzo caught it before it hit the floor.
Then he lifted her and walked away.
In his study, he locked the door, settled Mia on his desk, and called Rocco.
His lieutenant answered on the first ring.
“Boss?”
“Come alone.”
“What happened?”
May you like
Lorenzo looked at the tiny bare feet swinging above his desk.
“I need to know who I’m about to marry.”
