“You honestly believe a man like Luca would look twice at a woman like you?”
Camille Russo made sure her voice carried across the entire table.
The plus-size maid standing nearby didn’t flinch.
“The embarrassing part is that you think every woman standing near a man is applying for the position.”
Luca Moretti almost laughed.
And that single almost-laugh changed everything.
Camille’s face went cold. She turned to Luca, the feared mafia boss she had spent weeks trying to impress.
“You’re defending the maid?”
“Actually,” Luca said, his voice dangerously calm, “she’s the reason you’re here.”
Before Emma could demand an explanation, a new voice cut through the silence like a blade.
“So this is the woman you’ve been hiding from me.”
Teresa Moretti stood at the edge of the room. Silver hair. Sharp eyes. Decades of reading people the way most people read menus.
Emma turned toward Luca with a look that should have warned him not to say another word.
Unfortunately, warning Luca Moretti not to do something had never guaranteed sensible results.
“There is no woman. She’s his maid,” Camille said quickly, standing abruptly. Her chair scraped against the floor.
Teresa looked from Camille to Emma to her grandson.
“Yes,” Emma said fast. “Exactly. I work for Mr. Moretti.”
“And yet you were arguing with his date.”
“There was a reason for that.”
Luca’s mouth twitched.
“Don’t,” Emma whispered.
Teresa caught it. Her eyes narrowed with deep interest.
Camille pointed at Emma. “She has spent this entire evening sabotaging me. She interrupted our conversation to tell me Luca hates opera.”
“You asked what music he enjoys,” Emma said calmly.
“You told me he fell asleep during La Traviata.”
“He did.”
“Emma,” Luca sighed.
“You told me to be convincing.”
Teresa went very still.
Something shifted behind her eyes.
Camille frowned. “Told you?”
Emma closed her eyes for half a second.
The truth was simple but complicated to explain. Luca had recruited her because refusing another blind date would insult his grandmother. Emma’s assignment had been straightforward — interrupt at inconvenient moments, expose Luca’s difficult habits, and make Camille walk away on her own.
She had agreed because Luca promised her a favor in return.
She had not agreed to explain any of that.
Camille looked at Luca. “You arranged this?”
Luca considered lying.
“That would be a terrible idea,” Emma warned.
“She speaks to you like that?” Camille asked, incredulous.
“Frequently.”
“And you allow it?”
Luca glanced at Emma. “Apparently.”
Teresa smiled.
And that smile worried Emma more than Camille’s anger ever could.
Teresa turned toward Camille with the calm certainty of someone who had already solved the puzzle.
“You came to dinner with a man who already has a woman.”
“I am not his woman,” Emma said immediately.
Teresa ignored her completely. She was watching Luca.
For years, women from powerful families had arrived polished and prepared and desperate. Luca had rejected them all with impeccable courtesy and the emotional warmth of a locked door.
Yet Emma had just ordered him to stop talking.
