“He doesn’t—”
“When Camille insulted you, Luca’s hand went to his pocket. Do you know what he keeps there?”
Emma shook her head.
“A ring his grandfather gave him. The one Dante was holding when he proposed to me. Luca only touches it when he’s trying not to do something dangerous.”
Emma’s heart was beating too fast.
“Mrs. Moretti, I work for your grandson because I need the money. That’s all.”
“Then why did you call him darling?”
The question landed like a physical blow.
Emma replayed the last hour. The karaoke lie. The laugh she’d pulled from him. The moment she’d leaned in and whispered the word darling like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I was improvising.”
“You were honest.”
Before Emma could argue, the door opened.
Luca stood there, tie loosened, expression unreadable.
“Nonna, I need to speak with Emma.”
“Then speak.”
“Alone.”
Teresa smiled. “I think I’ve said enough for tonight.”
She left, but not before squeezing Emma’s hand once.
The door clicked shut.
Luca and Emma stared at each other across a room full of ghosts.
“She knows,” Emma said.
“I’m aware.”
“She’s known the entire time.”
“Also aware.”
Emma wanted to scream. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because if I had, you wouldn’t have taken the job.”
He was right.
Emma had needed the favor he’d promised. Needed it desperately enough to lie to a woman she respected. Needed it enough to stand in front of Camille Russo and pretend she was someone she wasn’t.
“What favor?” Luca asked quietly.
Emma had avoided this question for three months.
“My sister.”
Luca’s expression shifted. “The one in Chicago?”
Emma nodded. She’d mentioned Sophie once in passing. A careless slip during a late-night conversation when Luca had asked why she worked so many shifts.
“She’s in trouble.”
“What kind?”
Emma’s hands curled into fists. “The kind that requires money and connections and protection I don’t have.”
Luca waited.
“She borrowed from the wrong people. She thought they were friends. They weren’t.” Emma’s voice cracked. “She called me two weeks ago. Said they’re coming for her. Said she’s sorry. Said—”
She couldn’t finish.
Luca crossed the room in three strides.
“Names.”
“What?”
“Give me names.”
Emma stared at him. “Why?”
“Because you just told me someone is threatening your sister, and you’re asking me why I want names.”
Something broke open in Emma’s chest.
She gave him everything. The loan shark’s name. The bar where Sophie had met him. The amount she owed. The deadline that had already passed.
Luca pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Chicago.”
