Chapter 9 - Dinner With the DevilVictor Moretti chose a restaurant on the river with white tablecloths, quiet waiters, and windows that reflected the city like it belonged to him.
Emma wore the only black dress she owned, borrowed heels from Sarah, and Dominic’s private security detail like an invisible thunderstorm.
Dominic hated the plan.
That almost made Emma enjoy it.
Almost.
“You don’t speak unless necessary,” he said in the SUV.
Emma looked at him. “You understand I’m attending this meeting because he asked for me, right?”
“Yes. That’s why I hate it.”
“Noted.”
“Elena is in the building across the street. Harris has surveillance. Cole is inside as a waiter. You will not leave my sight.”
Emma blinked. “Cole is a waiter?”
Dominic’s mouth flattened. “Temporarily.”
“Does he know how to smile?”
“No.”
“That may hurt his tips.”
Dominic looked away, but she caught the edge of a smile.
The restaurant hushed when they entered.
Emma felt eyes move to Dominic first, then to her. She wondered what they saw. A waitress in borrowed heels beside a man who carried Chicago’s fear like a tailored coat.
Moretti rose from a corner table.
He was older than she expected, with silver hair, warm eyes, and the polished charm of a grandfather in a luxury watch advertisement.
That made him worse.
“Miss Reed,” he said. “You’re prettier than your video suggested.”
Dominic’s voice went ice-cold. “Careful.”
Moretti laughed. “Already? We’ve barely begun.”
Emma sat. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”
Moretti’s smile widened. “Direct. I appreciate that.”
“I doubt it.”
“A waitress with courage. Chicago loves a story.”
Emma folded her hands under the table so he wouldn’t see them tremble. “Chicago loves rent control and decent parking too. We’re complicated.”
Moretti chuckled.
Dominic did not sit back. He looked ready to turn the table into a shield.
Moretti poured wine nobody touched. “Rosie Bennett made a poor financial decision. I offered solutions. Your viral little performance has created unnecessary attention.”
“You threatened my dead mother’s memory.”
His smile faded slightly. “That was distasteful.”
“But useful?”
“Fear is often useful.”
Emma leaned forward. “That’s where you and I differ.”
Moretti studied her. “Do we?”
“Yes. You think fear shows power. I think it shows laziness. It’s what men use when they aren’t smart enough to earn loyalty.”
Silence fell.
Dominic looked at her like she had just lit a match in a gasoline room.
Moretti’s eyes cooled.
“You should be careful, Miss Reed. Dominic finds your honesty charming now. Men like him always enjoy fire until it burns something valuable.”
Emma’s throat tightened, but she smiled. “Then I guess you should stop handing me matches.”
For a second, Moretti’s mask cracked.
There he was.
Not the grandfather.
Not the businessman.
The predator.
“You want the diner?” Emma asked. “Make a legal offer. Public. Clean paperwork. No threats.”
Moretti laughed softly. “You think this is about one diner?”
“No. I think it’s about people like Rosie being told they should be grateful for whatever scraps powerful men leave behind. The diner is just where you made your mistake.”
His eyes moved to Dominic. “She speaks like she has your protection.”
“She has her own voice,” Dominic said.
“And your obsession.”
Dominic went still.
Emma felt the word land between them.
Obsession.
Dangerous.
Too intimate.
Too true in ways she didn’t want to examine.
Moretti placed an envelope on the table. “One million dollars. Rosie signs the building over. You leave Chicago for six months. Your friend Sarah gets a scholarship fund for her brother. Everyone lives peacefully.”
Emma looked at the envelope.
One million dollars.
Enough to save Rosie.
Enough to pay Sarah’s brother’s school.
Enough to restart her life.
Enough to be tempting.
Dominic said nothing.
He was letting her choose.
That mattered.
Emma pushed the envelope back.
“No.”
Moretti’s jaw tightened. “Pride is expensive.”
“So is underestimating waitresses.”
Moretti stood slowly. “You have forty-eight hours to reconsider.”
Dominic rose.
Cole appeared nearby with a tray, looking exactly like a waiter who might commit a felony with a butter knife.
Emma stood too.
Moretti leaned close enough that only she could hear.
“Dominic’s father died because he trusted the wrong person. Ask him how many people he buried after that.”
Then he walked away.
In the SUV, Emma was silent.
Dominic watched the city through the window.
Finally, she asked, “How many?”
He did not pretend not to understand.
“Too many.”
“Did they deserve it?”
His eyes met hers in the dark reflection.
“Some did.”
“And the others?”
The silence that followed was answer enough.
Emma looked away.
For the first time, she understood the true shape of the distance between them.
Dominic had saved her life.
He had protected Rosie.
He had held his pain like a locked room.
May you like
But there were ghosts behind him.
And some of them had his fingerprints on their graves.
