Chapter 2 - The Black Car Outside My ApartmentI told myself Luca Moretti was trying to scare me.
For approximately eleven hours.
Then I found the black SUV parked outside my apartment.
It was there at 7:12 the next morning when I stepped through the cracked front door of my building wearing yesterday’s jeans and carrying a laundry bag.
The engine was running.
Windows tinted.
Nobody got out.
I froze on the sidewalk.
My neighborhood in Queens wasn’t dangerous enough for residents to ignore suspicious luxury vehicles. Mrs. Alvarez from downstairs was already peeking through her blinds with enough enthusiasm to qualify as neighborhood intelligence.
I tightened my grip on the laundry bag and walked in the opposite direction.
The SUV followed.
That was when panic became real.
I turned down another street.
It followed again.
I reached for my phone.
Before I could dial 911, the rear door opened.
“Miss Bennett.”
I recognized the man climbing out.
He had been standing behind Luca the night before.
Mid-thirties. Broad shoulders. Gray suit. Expression suggesting smiling was something he had heard about but never attempted.
“My name is Rafael.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“You should.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“If you believe you’re in danger, call them.”
He held up both hands.
“I’m here because Mr. Moretti asked me to make certain you reached home safely.”
“I reached home last night.”
“Yes.”
“So why are you here?”
“Because somebody photographed you with Mateo.”
My stomach dropped.
He handed me his phone.
A social media post filled the screen.
The image showed me crouched over Mateo as glass shattered around us.
The caption was worse.
MYSTERY WAITRESS SAVES MORETTI HEIR DURING PRIVATE ALTERCATION.
“Moretti heir?”
I handed the phone back.
“People talk dramatically.”
Rafael’s expression suggested he didn’t disagree.
I folded my arms.
“Tell your boss I’m not taking the job.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He told me to give you this.”
An envelope.
I refused it.
“No.”
“It’s your medical expenses.”
“My cut needed six stitches, not a new kidney.”
“The amount is eight hundred dollars.”
That was reasonable enough to annoy me.
I took it.
Rafael nodded toward my building.
“You received an eviction notice yesterday.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“How do you know that?”
“Mr. Moretti had someone determine whether you were vulnerable.”
“You investigated me?”
“For security.”
“That’s stalking with a better vocabulary.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
“My understanding is your rent is nine weeks overdue.”
Humiliation burned hotter than anger.
I stepped toward him.
“Listen carefully. I don’t care who Luca Moretti is. I don’t care how much money he has. My debts are none of his business.”
Rafael nodded.
“That’s what I told him you would say.”
That irritated me more.
“Stop following me.”
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
His eyes moved across the street.
I followed his gaze.
A man in a baseball cap was standing beside a deli.
The moment I looked at him, he walked away.
Rafael’s expression hardened.
“He has been watching your building since five forty this morning.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who is he?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I hated the word yet.
“Could be nothing.”
“Could be.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
Suddenly the card in my pocket felt heavier.
I had spent half the night researching Luca Moretti despite promising myself I wouldn’t.
Most of what I found sounded almost respectable.
Restaurants.
Real estate.
Nightclubs.
Shipping.
Charities.
Then came the articles where nobody said what they actually meant.
“Alleged associations.”
“Suspected connections.”
“Longtime person of interest.”
No convictions.
No direct evidence.
A kingdom built between legal sentences.
I looked at Rafael.
“What exactly does Luca want me to do?”
“Mateo has gone through five caregivers in fourteen months.”
“Why?”
“Two quit because of security restrictions. One sold photographs to the press. One was discovered providing information to someone hostile to Mr. Moretti.”
“And the fifth?”
Rafael paused.
“Mateo hated her.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s the terrifying reason?”
“He hid in a dumbwaiter for three hours.”
I stared at him.
“He sounds resourceful.”
“He adores you.”
“He met me for thirty seconds.”
“Children are sometimes efficient judges of character.”
“Adults should try it.”
This time Rafael definitely smiled.
Barely.
“You’ll be paid six thousand dollars per month.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“Private quarters included if desired. Food. Transportation. Health insurance.”
“That’s absurd.”
“It’s standard.”
“For babysitting?”
“For providing stability to the son of a man whose life does not allow much of it.”
Something in the sentence cut through my suspicion.
I remembered Mateo freezing when the glass exploded.
Not crying.
Not ducking.
Freezing.
Children learned reactions like that somewhere.
“When would I start?”
Rafael didn’t answer immediately.
I pointed at him.
“That was not a yes.”
“I understand.”
“I’m asking.”
“Today, if you choose.”
I looked toward my apartment building.
Behind those windows waited an overdue electricity bill, an empty refrigerator, and the notice telling me I had ten days to pay everything or leave.
My mother had died eighteen months earlier after a long illness that emptied both her savings account and mine.
I had dropped out of nursing school to care for her.
After she died, the bills remained.
The person didn’t.
Since then, I had learned how quickly middle-class stability could collapse.
One medical crisis.
One missed semester.
One bad month.
Then another.
I closed my eyes.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Rafael.
“You’re supposed to convince me.”
“I prefer honesty.”
“Does your boss?”
A pause.
“When practical.”
I sighed.
“I’ll meet him.”
Twenty-five minutes later, I was sitting in the SUV heading north.
Luca’s home was not a home.
It was an estate overlooking the Hudson surrounded by stone walls, cameras, and enough security to make a federal building look casual.
Rafael drove through two gates.
The house appeared beyond a line of maple trees.
Stone.
Glass.
Steel.
Beautiful in a way that felt almost hostile.
A little boy burst through the front door before the SUV stopped.
“Claire!”
Mateo ran directly toward me.
Behind him, a woman shouted, “Mateo!”
He ignored her.
I stepped out just before he crashed into me.
“You came!”
“I came to talk.”
He hugged my waist.
That complicated everything.
Then Luca appeared in the doorway.
No suit this time.
Black trousers.
White shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
He looked younger.
More dangerous somehow.
“You’re late.”
I stared at him.
“You didn’t invite me.”
“I sent a car.”
“That isn’t an invitation. That’s a mild kidnapping.”
Rafael abruptly became fascinated with the SUV.
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
Then Mateo laughed.
Luca looked down at his son.
His expression changed again.
It happened every time Mateo smiled.
Something invisible in the man unclenched.
“Come inside.”
I followed them into a foyer bigger than my entire apartment.
Mateo talked continuously.
He showed me a dinosaur.
A Lego spaceship.
A bruise on his knee.
A drawing of a shark.
Then Luca sent him upstairs with a woman named Rosa, who seemed to manage the household and immediately offered me coffee.
Luca led me into an office.
The door closed.
His warmth vanished.
“Someone followed you this morning.”
“I know.”
“We identified him.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“A freelance photographer.”
I exhaled.
“See? Nothing.”
“He was paid.”
The relief vanished.
“By whom?”
“We’re determining that.”
I folded my arms.
“This happened because of you.”
“Yes.”
The answer was so immediate I didn’t know what to do with it.
Luca walked to the window.
“I warned you last night because association with me carries consequences.”
“So fix them.”
He turned.
“I intend to.”
“Without hurting anyone.”
His face gave away nothing.
“Define hurting.”
“Seriously?”
“You’re entering a world you clearly have opinions about.”
“I’m not entering anything.”
“You came here.”
“For a job.”
“With my son.”
“Exactly.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
I continued.
“If I work here, my responsibility is Mateo. I don’t carry messages. I don’t ask questions about your business. I don’t lie to police officers. I don’t hide guns. I don’t clean blood off carpets.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“That last one happens less frequently than television suggests.”
I stared at him.
He almost smiled.
“Anything else?”
“Yes. No screaming at me.”
“I don’t scream.”
“No threatening me.”
“Fine.”
“No ordering me around when it has nothing to do with Mateo.”
He leaned against his desk.
“You enjoy telling dangerous men what to do.”
“I enjoyed being employed yesterday.”
He nodded slowly.
“Six thousand a month. Private health insurance. Apartment here if you want it. Three days off every two weeks.”
“Two days every week.”
“Four days every two weeks.”
“That is still not two every week.”
“Mateo’s schedule requires flexibility.”
“So does mine.”
“What schedule?”
I stared at him.
“That was rude.”
“Yes.”
“At least you know.”
He studied me.
Then reached for a contract.
“Two days weekly. Unless an emergency requires otherwise. Overtime paid.”
I took the papers.
“How long?”
“Three-month trial.”
I started reading.
He watched.
“You actually read contracts?”
“My mother once signed a hospital payment plan without reading page four. I spent seven months fighting a twenty-nine-percent interest rate.”
His face changed slightly.
“You cared for her.”
It wasn’t a question.
I looked up.
“You investigated that too?”
“Your background was necessary.”
“Stop doing that.”
“I cannot unknow it.”
“But you can stop digging.”
He was silent.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
I looked at the salary again.
Six thousand dollars.
Enough to save my apartment.
Enough to restart school eventually.
Enough to breathe.
“When do I start?”
A crash came from upstairs.
Then Mateo screamed.
Luca reached the door before I did.
We ran.
The sound had come from Mateo’s bedroom.
Rosa stood frozen outside.
His window was open.
Curtains whipping in the wind.
The room was empty.
Luca went completely white.
“Mateo?”
No answer.
Then we saw the note pinned to his pillow.
Luca tore it free.
Three words were written across the paper.
YOU OWE US.
May you like
And beneath them—
a smear of fresh blood.
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