“Either that maid leaves this house, Dante, or I do.”
Vanessa Whitmore gave her fiancé that ultimatum in front of two hundred wealthy guests. Elena Morales stood between a marble column and a tray of untouched champagne, wishing the service door were closer. She had worked in Dante Moretti’s mansion for six weeks. Until twenty minutes ago, her greatest fear had been a hospital bill she could not pay.
Her mother was ill. The billing office had called while Elena was helping clear the conservatory, and she had gone outside to take the call. When the conversation ended, she crouched beside a planter, unable to get enough air. Her phone slipped from her hand. Dante found her there, retrieved it, and held her hand while helping her stand.
That was all. Vanessa had seen enough to decide otherwise.
“Why was my fiancé holding your hand in the garden?”
“My mother is in the hospital,” Elena said. “I received a call.”
“And naturally, you needed my fiancé.”
Dante stood near the fireplace. At thirty-five, he had a reputation for making powerful people regret underestimating him, but Elena had mostly seen him leaving early for meetings with coffee cooling in his hand. Now he stepped toward Vanessa.
“That’s enough.”
“You’re defending her?”
“I’m telling you to stop humiliating an employee.”
“She was touching you!”
“She was falling.”
Vanessa turned toward the guests. “After everything my family has done for you!”
Her father, Richard Whitmore, sat near the orchestra, his smile gone. The engagement joined two people, but it also stood beside negotiations involving their families’ businesses. Nobody in the ballroom could pretend the threat concerned only a jealous bride.
Elena lowered her eyes. “I can leave.”
Dante looked at her. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t want trouble.”
“You haven’t caused it.”
He reminded Vanessa that Elena had returned a guest’s wallet intact, stayed late after another employee was injured, and repaired the music box his grandmother had treasured. Elena wished he would stop. A list of good deeds made her feel as though her right to ordinary decency depended on being unusually useful.
Vanessa’s mouth tightened. “Then marry her!”
Elena stepped backward. Dante turned toward her, beginning to say her name, but Marcus Reed appeared at the ballroom entrance carrying a sealed envelope.
“Boss. We found the documents you asked about.”
Vanessa suddenly went still.
Marcus handed Dante the envelope. “The dismissal order was signed three days ago. And the payment attached to it wasn’t for an employment agency.”
Dante did not open it immediately. He looked at Elena, then at the two hundred people pretending not to listen.
“Will you come into the library?” he asked Marcus.
Vanessa reached for the envelope. “This is ridiculous.”
He moved it away without touching her. “Richard, please join us.”
Elena expected to be dismissed to the kitchen. Instead, Dante asked whether she would like Mrs. Bell, the house manager, to sit with her. That was the first question anyone had asked that evening to which Elena could give an uncomplicated answer.
