Chapter 2 - The Rules Clara Made
Marco fired Clara at 8:17 p.m.
Rico rehired her at 8:18.
It happened in the service hallway while Leo sat on the floor beside Clara’s shoes, drinking warm milk.
Marco looked ready to collapse.
“She violated instructions, Mr. Moretti. I specifically told her not to approach—”
“You’re fired,” Marco told Clara.
Rico looked at him.
“No, she isn’t.”
Marco blinked.
Clara rubbed her forehead.
“I’m standing right here.”
Neither man acknowledged that.
Rico crouched several feet from his son.
“Leo.”
Leo tightened his hand around Clara’s finger.
Rico noticed.
Pain crossed his face so quickly Clara almost missed it.
“Come home.”
“No.”
It was the clearest word the boy had spoken all night.
Rico’s eyes went to Clara.
She hated that look.
It was the look powerful people gave when they decided someone else should solve their problem.
“No,” she said.
Rico’s eyebrow rose.
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“You were about to.”
Dante looked down, hiding amusement.
Rico stood.
“What makes you think you know what I was going to ask?”
“You’re looking at me like I’m a service you can purchase.”
Silence.
Clara had a sudden and vivid understanding of why most employees avoided eye contact with Rico Moretti.
He stepped closer.
“I purchase services every day.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“And if my son is calm because you’re here?”
“Then right now I’ll stay until he’s calm enough to leave.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I come back for my shift at four.”
Rico glanced at Marco.
“She’s off tomorrow,” Marco said quickly.
“Not anymore.”
Clara stood.
Leo immediately grabbed her skirt.
She softened.
“Hey. I’m not leaving this second.”
He looked up.
“You said.”
“I did.”
She crouched again.
“But I do have to go home eventually.”
His face tightened.
Before he could spiral, Clara pointed at the milk.
“How many more sips?”
Leo studied it.
“Three.”
“Okay.”
He took three.
Then four.
Clara let him cheat.
Twenty minutes later, Leo allowed Rico to pick him up.
The change happened only after Clara made Rico ask.
It felt ridiculous telling one of Brooklyn’s most feared men how to approach his own child.
“Tell him what you’re going to do.”
Rico stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because surprises scare him.”
Rico looked at Leo.
“I’m going to pick you up.”
Leo buried his face against Clara’s shoulder.
Rico waited.
Clara whispered, “You can say no.”
Rico shot her a look.
She ignored him.
Leo whispered, “Daddy.”
Rico’s anger vanished.
“Yes.”
“Home?”
“Yes.”
A long pause.
Then Leo lifted both arms.
Rico picked him up carefully.
Not like a man who expected obedience.
Like a father handling something already cracked.
At the restaurant entrance, Rico turned back.
“Tomorrow. Ten in the morning.”
Clara blinked.
“My shift is at four.”
“At my house.”
“No.”
Marco made a strangled noise behind her.
Rico’s face hardened.
“My son asked for you.”
“That doesn’t make me your employee.”
“I’ll pay you.”
“I already have a job.”
“I own your job.”
“That sentence is exactly why I’m saying no.”
Dante turned away completely.
Rico stared at her.
Clara’s knees wanted to shake.
She made them stay still.
Finally, he said, “Name a price.”
“I’m not for sale.”
His eyes narrowed.
Clara continued.
“Leo needs a child therapist.”
“He has doctors.”
“Doctors or a therapist?”
“Specialists.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Rico’s voice cooled.
“You’re very comfortable questioning me.”
“No. I’m terrified.”
That surprised him.
Clara gave a tired laugh.
“I’m just more worried about him.”
Rico looked down at Leo, who had fallen against his chest with one fist wrapped around Rico’s lapel.
“What would make you come?”
Clara considered.
“Two hours. Daytime. I’m not quitting here. I’m not moving into your house. Nobody carries a gun in the room with Leo while I’m there.”
Dante glanced at Rico.
Clara added, “And you contact a licensed child trauma therapist.”
Rico’s mouth flattened.
“You negotiate like an extortionist.”
“I wait tables for people who send steak back after eating eighty percent of it. You’re not my worst Friday.”
Dante coughed into his fist.
Rico almost smiled.
Almost.
“Ten tomorrow.”
“I said I have conditions.”
“They’re accepted.”
Clara pointed at Dante.
“No gun.”
Dante looked offended.
Rico said, “Accepted.”
“And I decide whether I come back after tomorrow.”
Rico opened the restaurant door.
Outside, a black SUV waited under the Brooklyn streetlights.
He paused.
“For six months, people have told me what my son needs. He hasn’t held anyone’s hand except mine since his mother died.”
His voice dropped.
“Tonight he chose yours.”
Clara didn’t know what to say.
Rico carried Leo outside.
Before the door closed, Leo lifted his head over his father’s shoulder.
“Tomorrow?”
Clara nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
The next morning, at 9:52, Clara stood outside a limestone townhouse in Brooklyn Heights and realized the most dangerous part of the arrangement wasn’t Rico Moretti.
May you like
It was the possibility that a grieving little boy had started trusting her.
And she had no idea whether she could survive being responsible for that trust.
