Chapter 7 - When the Christmas Lights Went Dark
“You needed a wife.”
The words came out quieter than I intended.
Luca’s face tightened.
“No.”
“The trust says otherwise.”
“The trust says marriage prevents Victor from gaining temporary control.”
“So you needed a wife.”
“I needed a solution to the trust.”
“And I was convenient.”
“No.”
I laughed.
It sounded terrible.
“Do you understand how this looks?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain it.”
“I didn’t ask you to marry me.”
“Not yet.”
His expression hardened.
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair?”
I held up the trust document.
“You ask your employee to pretend to be your girlfriend days before a corporate succession fight, publicly declare she’s the only woman you’d ever choose, then I discover you’ve been secretly reorganizing her job so dating her would become legally easier.”
I dropped the paper onto his desk.
“And you want to discuss fair?”
He didn’t answer.
I left.
This time he didn’t follow.
Outside, Manhattan was disappearing beneath heavy snow.
By six that evening, the storm had shut down half the city.
I should have gone to my apartment.
Instead, because my life had become an absurd Christmas movie written by someone with emotional issues, I was still at the Moretti mansion.
Alessandra had insisted.
“You will freeze on the West Side,” she said.
“I have heating.”
“You have an old building.”
“It’s fine.”
“Your landlord is cheap.”
“How do you know my landlord?”
She stared at me as if the question were stupid.
“You work for my grandson.”
Apparently privacy was not a Moretti tradition.
Luca remained in Manhattan for meetings.
Or so I was told.
At nine-thirty, the power flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness swallowed the house.
Someone downstairs cursed.
Emergency lights came on.
I was in the upstairs library wearing borrowed pajamas beneath one of Sofia’s cardigans when I heard the front door open.
Minutes later, Luca appeared.
Snow covered his black coat.
“You’re here.”
I crossed my arms.
“Your grandmother kidnapped me.”
“Sounds like her.”
He looked exhausted.
“Did you eat?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He turned to leave.
That surprised me.
“Luca.”
He stopped.
“Where are you going?”
“Guest room.”
“This is your family’s house.”
“I know.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“Yes.”
The honesty disarmed me.
“Why?”
He looked back.
“Because you asked for space.”
Oh.
I sat on the edge of a chair.
The fire crackled behind me, one of the few sources of warmth and light left in the room.
“You can come in.”
He hesitated.
Then removed his coat and entered.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Finally I asked,
“Did you know about the trust before you hired me?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever think of marrying someone for control of the company?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Who?”
“No one specific.”
“Isabella?”
“My father suggested it before he died.”
“And?”
“I told him no.”
“Why?”
“I was twenty-eight. I thought I had years to fix the trust.”
He looked toward the fire.
“Then he died.”
I knew Luca’s father had died suddenly.
Heart attack.
Forty-eight hours after a Moretti Holdings board meeting.
Luca had become chairman before most men his age became vice presidents.
“Why didn’t you challenge the trust?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Victor fought every attempt.”
“Why?”
“Because temporary authority becomes leverage.”
I understood.
Victor didn’t necessarily want Luca unmarried forever.
He only needed enough control at the right moment.
“Does marriage automatically solve everything?”
“It transfers the shares directly to me.”
“That is insane.”
“My father believed marriage created stability.”
“Your father never met modern divorce lawyers?”
That produced a brief laugh.
Then silence again.
I looked at him.
“Why did you choose me?”
His eyes met mine.
“I already told you.”
“I need more.”
He sat across from me.
The fire reflected against the tattoos at his open collar.
“I started noticing you differently in Boston.”
My pulse shifted.
“The hamburgers?”
“Yes.”
“You fell in love over room service?”
“Not immediately.”
“Good. That would be embarrassing.”
His mouth curved.
“After the investor meeting, everyone left.”
“I remember.”
“You stayed.”
“I was your assistant.”
“You didn’t have to sit on the floor with me until two in the morning.”
“You looked miserable.”
“I was.”
“You insulted the hotel ketchup.”
“It was terrible.”
I laughed.
He watched me.
The warmth disappeared from my smile.
He continued quietly.
“You told me about your father.”
My chest tightened.
I had.
My father had spent thirty years building a small accounting firm, then lost nearly everything when his business partner stole from him.
He survived.
Started over.
But it had changed how I viewed trust.
“I don’t tell people that story.”
“I know.”
“Why did I tell you?”
“I’ve wondered the same thing.”
The fire cracked.
Outside, the storm rattled the windows.
“I realized afterward,” Luca said, “that I knew almost everything about how your mind worked but very little about your life.”
“So you started spying?”
“I asked questions.”
“You had Sienna run a background check.”
“That was when you were hired.”
“Terrifying.”
“Standard.”
“For billionaires.”
“Yes.”
I smiled despite myself.
Then he became serious.
“I didn’t ask you to that party because I needed a wife.”
“Then why that night?”
“Because my grandmother told me the Rinaldis intended to force the issue.”
“And you panicked.”
“I responded.”
“You panicked elegantly.”
“Fine.”
The word surprised me.
“Yes.”
He looked away.
“I panicked.”
For Luca, admitting that was enormous.
“I imagined standing beside Isabella while everyone discussed my future as if I weren’t in the room.”
His jaw tightened.
“And the only person I wanted beside me was you.”
I swallowed.
“You should have told me everything.”
“Yes.”
“You should have trusted me enough to choose.”
“Yes.”
“You should never have moved my job without speaking to me.”
“Yes.”
“You’re agreeing too easily.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“What?”
“Not arguing when you’re right.”
I smiled.
He smiled too.
The house suddenly went darker as another emergency circuit failed.
Only firelight remained.
The world outside disappeared completely.
Luca stood.
“I’ll find candles.”
His hand brushed mine as he passed.
I caught his wrist.
Neither of us moved.
I don’t know why I did it.
Maybe because darkness makes people brave.
Maybe because his confession had spent days living beneath my skin.
Maybe because I was tired of pretending too.
He looked down at my hand.
Then at me.
“Emma.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make this into a decision.”
His expression softened.
“What should I make it?”
“A moment.”
He stepped closer.
Slowly enough that I could stop him.
I didn’t.
His hand lifted to my face.
Warm fingers against my cheek.
“Tell me no.”
I could have.
I should have.
Instead I whispered,
“No kissing was my rule.”
“Yes.”
“Technically the party ended.”
“It did.”
“You always exploit technicalities.”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
Then Luca kissed me.
Not aggressively.
Not like a billionaire claiming something.
Like a man terrified the woman he loved might disappear if he moved too fast.
Slow.
Warm.
Careful.
I felt his breath hitch when I touched his chest.
For several seconds, every question vanished.
There was only him.
Then the power returned.
The chandelier overhead exploded with light.
We broke apart.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
From the doorway came Julian’s voice.
“Well.”
I closed my eyes.
Julian continued.
“I realize timing is important, but Victor Hale is on television.”
Luca stepped away.
“What?”
Julian lifted his phone.
On the screen, a business news anchor stood beneath a headline:
MORETTI HOLDINGS SUCCESSION CRISIS.
And beneath it:
VICE CHAIRMAN QUESTIONS CEO’S JUDGMENT AMID SECRET OFFICE ROMANCE.
My stomach dropped.
Julian looked at us both.
May you like
“The lie is officially national news.”
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