Briefnow

Chapter 2

Alessandro lay motionless through all of it. Heard every word.

He knew he couldn’t lie still another second.

He let out a low groan — deliberate, perfectly measured — and shifted in the chair. Sophia froze. In one motion she pulled Emma tight against her chest and began backing toward the door, her whole body rigid as a deer caught in headlights on a midnight road.

He opened his eyes. Blinked slowly, like a man surfacing from a deep afternoon sleep. Then lowered his gaze onto the mother and daughter huddled by the door, and put on the most flawless expression of irritation he had ever worn.

“What is this?” His voice was gravel. “What’s all this noise? Can a man not have peace in his own house?”

“I — I’m so terribly sorry, Mr. Moretti.” Sophia’s words tumbled over each other, her head bowing. “I was only cleaning. This is my daughter. Her school closed because of the storm. We’re leaving right now, sir. Please don’t dismiss me. I need this job. I’m begging you.”

Alessandro looked at the two of them for a long moment. His gaze traveled slowly to the envelope, still resting exactly where Emma had pushed it. Then to the girl, half-hidden behind her mother’s leg, trembling now — not from the cold, but from fear.

“Little one,” he said. “Come here.”

Sophia’s hands clamped down on Emma’s shoulders. “Sir, she didn’t mean any harm. She’s only six. I swear—”

“I said, come here.”

The room went silent except for the fire. Emma gently peeled her mother’s fingers from her shoulders — one small hand over the trembling large one, a gesture so calm it seemed to belong to someone three times her age. She walked forward, step by step, trembling but unbroken, and stopped in front of the don’s knees.

He leaned down until his face was inches from hers.

“You put your jacket on me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why? I’m a stranger to you. I’m rich. Upstairs I have a closet full of fur coats. Why would you give me your jacket?”

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Emma looked down at her torn shoes. For a second he thought she might cry. Then she raised her eyes to his — clear brown, utterly without calculation.

“Because you looked cold, sir. My mama says when someone is cold, you cover them with a blanket. Even if they’re rich, cold is still cold.”

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