And Luca was smiling again.
“Three months,” Emma blurted when Teresa asked how long they had been together.
Luca’s head snapped toward her.
“And your first date?” Teresa pressed.
Emma’s irritation transformed into something dangerously creative.
“A karaoke bar. Luca sang. Twice.”
“I did not.”
“Darling, you promised we’d stop arguing about this.”
Teresa laughed so hard she nearly fell.
After she walked away, Luca leaned in.
“A karaoke bar?”
“You said I couldn’t embarrass you deliberately.”
“That was deliberate.”
“No. That was survival.”
Emma started toward the door, then looked back.
“But I’m beginning to see the possibilities.”
And suddenly, Luca Moretti realized he hadn’t just created a fake relationship.
He had started negotiating with the one person in his household who never loses.
Emma made it exactly three steps down the hallway before she heard Teresa’s voice again.
“Walk with me.”
Not a request.
Emma turned. Teresa stood framed by the doorway, backlit and impossibly composed. Behind her, Camille was already gathering her coat with movements sharp enough to cut glass.
Luca appeared at the threshold. His expression warned Emma not to follow.
Emma followed anyway.
They walked through the east wing in silence. Teresa’s heels clicked against marble with metronomic precision. Emma had cleaned these floors a hundred times, but walking them beside Teresa Moretti felt like entering foreign territory.
Teresa stopped at a sitting room Emma had never been allowed to enter.
Inside, the walls were covered with photographs. Decades of Moretti history stared back at her. Weddings. Christenings. Men in dark suits standing beside women whose smiles never quite reached their eyes.
“My husband chose me,” Teresa said without preamble.
Emma waited.
“His family wanted someone younger. Prettier. From a better bloodline.” Teresa touched one photograph. A wedding portrait. The bride looked terrified. “They wanted someone who would smile and breed and disappear.”
Emma’s throat tightened.
“But Dante wanted a woman who argued with him. Who told him when he was wrong. Who made him laugh in rooms where laughter was dangerous.”
Teresa turned.
“Luca is exactly like him.”
Emma shook her head. “Mrs. Moretti, I appreciate what you’re trying to say, but—”
“You think I’m a romantic old woman who sees love where there isn’t any.”
“I think you’re kind enough to pretend you don’t know exactly what happened tonight.”
Teresa smiled. “You’re right. I do know.”
Emma’s stomach dropped.
“Luca paid you to sabotage his date.”
The room felt suddenly airless.
“He’s done it before,” Teresa continued. “Three times in the last year. Each time with a different woman from his staff. Each time thinking I wouldn’t notice.”
Emma’s hands went cold.
“The first one was his accountant. Brilliant performance. She spilled wine on herself twice and told me Luca was afraid of dogs. The second was his event coordinator. She claimed he collected porcelain dolls.”
Despite everything, Emma almost smiled.
“The third,” Teresa said, voice softening, “was his driver’s daughter. Sweet girl. Terrible liar. She told me Luca sleepwalks and once woke up in the garden wearing a bathrobe.”
Emma closed her eyes. “Why didn’t you stop him?”
“Because I wanted to see who he would choose next.”
When Emma looked up, Teresa was watching her with an expression that made her feel transparent.
“The accountant was competent. The event coordinator was clever. The driver’s daughter was kind.” Teresa stepped closer. “But you are the first one he’s looked at the way his grandfather looked at me.”
