Chapter 2 - But his thumb brushed slowly across the back of my hand.
That was when I realized he was nervous.
Luca Moretti.
Nervous.
The discovery made my chest ache.
Then the room quieted slightly.
A man had entered.
Stefano Moretti was perhaps sixty, silver-haired, immaculately dressed, with an expression of gentle attentiveness.
Nothing about him was intimidating.
That, somehow, made me pay closer attention.
Beside him walked a woman around my age.
Tall.
Graceful.
Beautiful.
She wore a cream dress and carried herself with effortless confidence.
Luca went very still.
“Valentina,” he said.
So much for reasonable.
Valentina Bianchi smiled.
“Luca.”
Then her eyes shifted to me.
Curiosity flickered.
Stefano approached us.
“Emma Bennett,” he said warmly. “Of course.”
Of course.
I didn’t like that.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Stefano, please.”
He looked at Luca.
“I didn’t realize Emma would be joining us.”
“Now you do.”
Stefano smiled faintly.
“And in what capacity?”
The room seemed to tilt subtly toward us.
Luca’s fingers tightened around mine.
I remembered our agreement.
He would tell them.
I would follow.
Luca looked at his mother.
His grandmother.
His brother.
Then Stefano.
Finally, his eyes returned to me.
For a fleeting second, something uncertain appeared there.
And suddenly I understood.
This wasn’t easy for him either.
So I squeezed his hand.
Just once.
He inhaled.
“Emma is here with me,” he said.
Stefano’s brows lifted.
“As your assistant?”
“No.”
Silence.
Luca didn’t look away from me.
“As the woman I’m seeing.”
Julian made a choking sound into his wine.
Elena closed her eyes briefly.
Rosa smiled.
Valentina looked startled—but not hurt.
Stefano simply watched.
“For how long?” he asked.
Luca answered without hesitation.
“Long enough.”
I felt every eye in the room.
Stefano’s smile remained.
“Interesting.”
Then Rosa rescued us.
“Christmas is not a board meeting,” she announced. “Everyone stop staring at them.”
Conversation resumed.
Barely.
Dinner was surprisingly normal.
Mostly.
Julian asked how Luca had finally convinced me to date him.
“I made a compelling presentation,” Luca said.
I nearly dropped my fork.
Valentina laughed.
“You prepared slides, didn’t you?”
“Spreadsheets,” I said.
That earned another laugh.
Even Luca smiled.
Slowly, the pressure eased.
Valentina, to my surprise, was easy to like.
She had recently opened a small charitable foundation supporting scholarships for maritime engineering students.
“My father thinks philanthropy is something you do after dinner,” she said. “I’m trying to convince him it can be actual work.”
“I suspect you’re winning.”
“Slowly.”
At one point, she leaned toward me.
“For what it’s worth, I’m relieved.”
I glanced at her.
“About?”
She nodded subtly toward Luca.
“Our families have been planning our imaginary wedding for years.”
“So you knew.”
“Oh, yes.”
“But Luca said—”
“That I didn’t?”
Her lips curved.
“Typical Luca. He assumes that if no one tells him something directly, it doesn’t exist.”
Across the table, Luca was talking to Julian.
I studied him.
“Did you ever want it?”
“Marriage to Luca?”
Valentina considered him.
“No. Luca and I would last approximately twelve days.”
“Twelve?”
“Eleven if there were travel delays.”
I laughed.
She became quieter.
“But Stefano wants something.”
“What?”
“That,” she said, “I’m still trying to understand.”
Before I could ask more, Rosa called for dessert.
Later, after coffee, people separated into smaller rooms.
Music played quietly from the library.
Julian challenged several cousins to cards.
Rosa disappeared with Elena.
Valentina took a phone call.
I found myself alone for the first time since arriving.
Which was how Stefano found me.
He stood beside the Christmas tree, studying an old silver ornament.
“You’ve worked with Luca three years?”
“Three and a half.”
“You must know him well.”
“As well as anyone who works for him.”
Stefano smiled.
“That sounded rehearsed.”
“It’s accurate.”
He hung the ornament carefully.
“Luca values loyalty.”
“I know.”
“He values it so much that sometimes he mistakes silence for loyalty.”
I frowned.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“No.”
He turned toward me.
“You probably don’t.”
Then he walked away.
I stood there, unsettled.
Silence for loyalty.
Before I could make sense of it, Julian appeared.
“There you are.”
“Do you always materialize at inconvenient moments?”
“It’s my best quality.”
He handed me a glass of sparkling water.
“I thought you might need rescuing.”
“From Stefano?”
Julian’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Maybe.”
That caught my attention.
“What does everyone know that I don’t?”
“In this family? Quite a lot.”
“Julian.”
He glanced toward the hallway.
Then back at me.
“My brother didn’t bring you here only because of Stefano.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“What does that mean?”
Julian looked uncomfortable now.
A rare condition.
“He should tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“Emma.”
We both turned.
Luca stood across the room.
His face was unreadable.
But his eyes were fixed on Julian.
“Grandmother is looking for you,” Luca said.
Julian sighed.
“That’s brother language for stop talking.”
“Julian.”
“Going.”
He gave me an apologetic look and left.
Luca approached.
“What did he say?”
“Not enough.”
His jaw tightened.
“Emma—”
“You promised no invented private details.”
“I haven’t invented anything.”
“That isn’t what I’m asking.”
He looked past me.
Toward the hallway.
Toward the darker, quieter part of the house.
His father’s study was somewhere there.
I remembered the warning.
Off-limits.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Before Luca could answer, Rosa appeared.
“There you are.”
She slipped her arm through mine.
“I need Emma for five minutes.”
“Nonna—”
“Five minutes.”
Luca’s expression suggested he disliked this.
Rosa ignored him.
She guided me upstairs.
“Where are we going?”
“My room.”
“For what?”
“A Christmas gift.”
I stared at her.
“You have a gift for me?”
“I buy gifts early.”
Of course she did.
Her bedroom was warm and traditional, filled with family photographs.
Rosa opened a drawer and took out a small wrapped box.
“This belonged to my mother.”
“I can’t take something like that.”
“You can open it before deciding.”
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet.
Beautiful.
Old.
Set with a tiny sapphire.
I looked at her.
“Rosa—”
“She gave it to me when I was twenty-eight.”
“That makes it even more impossible.”
Rosa sat beside me.
“I am not giving it to you because Luca brought you tonight.”
My breath caught.
“I’m giving it to you because I intended to give it to you months ago.”
Months.
Before tonight.
“Why?”
She studied me.
“You really don’t know.”
My heartbeat became loud again.
“Know what?”
Rosa smiled sadly.
“My grandson has always believed that protecting someone means deciding what they’re allowed to know.”
I swallowed.
“What has he decided I shouldn’t know?”
She reached for an old photograph on the table.
In it, a much younger Luca stood beside his father.
Between them was another man.
I recognized him immediately.
Not because I had met him.
Because I had spent years seeing his face in a framed photograph on my mother’s mantel.
My father.
I stopped breathing.
“That’s my dad.”
Rosa nodded.
The room seemed to shrink.
“My father knew Luca’s father?”
“Very well.”
“But my father worked in commercial insurance.”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with Moretti Holdings?”
Rosa’s gaze softened.
“A great deal.”
I looked down at the photograph again.
My father had died when I was twenty-two.
Six years ago.
Long before I ever applied to Moretti Holdings.
Long before Luca hired me.
Or so I had believed.
“Did Luca know?”
Rosa didn’t answer immediately.
That was enough.
I stood.
“He knew.”
“Emma—”
“He knew who my father was before he hired me.”
Rosa rose too.
“Ask Luca.”
I barely heard her.
Because suddenly dozens of small moments were rearranging themselves in my memory.
My unusually fast interview process.
Luca personally reviewing my application.
The way he once recognized my mother’s maiden name.
The strange silence whenever I mentioned my father.
The promotions I had earned but sometimes wondered if I deserved too quickly.
I turned toward the door.
Then noticed something written on the back of the photograph.
Three words.
In my father’s handwriting.
For Luca someday.
My fingers trembled.
“What does that mean?”
May you like
Rosa looked toward the hall.
“I think,” she said quietly, “you’re finally going to learn why Luca Moretti already knew your name before the day you met.”
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