Chapter 2

Aria POV

I didn’t sleep.

How do you sleep when you just got fired, and the Morettis just offered you a job?

I showed up at Velvet at 9:50am, ten minutes early because being late to rich people costs more than time. The restaurant was empty in the morning, all that black marble looking dead without people to fill it. The host didn’t even look at me.

"Luca’s office," I said.

"Third floor," he said. Like I should know.

The elevator was glass. I watched the city rise under me and tried not to think about rent. Tried not to think about the fact that I ironed this same dress last night because it was the only clean thing I owned.

His office door was open.

Luca was behind a desk the size of my entire studio. No smile. No "come in." Just, "Sit."

I sat. The chair was leather and cold.

Marco was there too, leaning against the window, arms crossed, grinning like he knew a secret. Nico sat in the corner, quiet. Enzo stood by the bar cart, pouring water like he had nothing better to do. Dante wasn’t there.

"You spilled water on Victoria," Luca said.

"Yes."

"You didn’t beg."

"No."

"Good."

Marco laughed. "She’s got spine, Lu. I like her."

Luca ignored him. He slid a folder across the desk. Thick. Black. "Contract."

I didn’t touch it. "For what job?"

"Personal staff," Luca said. "For the house. Cooking, cleaning, errands. You’ll live in."

Live in.

The words hit me. A room. Food. No rent.

"Why me?" I asked.

"Because you didn’t bow," Marco said before Luca could answer. "And because Victoria is going to make your life hell if you stay in this city working anywhere else."

I opened the folder. The pay was more in a month than I made in three at Velvet. Health insurance. Room and board. One year contract.

My hands shook.

"There are rules," Luca said. "You don’t talk about us. You don’t go into the west wing. You don’t ask questions. And you don’t sleep with any of us."

The last part hung in the air.

Marco’s grin got wider. "Especially me," he added. "I’m very distracting."

Nico shot him a look. Enzo didn’t react.

I was about to sign when the door slammed open.

Victoria.

Red dress again. Like she owned a store and only bought one color.

"What is this?" she said, looking at me like I was a stain. "You’re hiring her?"

"Yes," Luca said.

"She humiliated me last night."

"Then maybe don’t pick fights with waitresses."

Victoria’s eyes went to the contract in my hands. Then to me.

"You think this changes anything?" she said to me. "You’re still nothing."

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was no sleep. Maybe it was 21 and tired.

I stood up. "Then why are you scared of me?"

The room went dead quiet.

Marco started laughing first. Loud. "Oh. Oh she’s good."

Victoria’s face went red. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I said. My voice didn’t shake. "If I’m nothing, why are you here?"

Victoria lunged.

Not at me. At the contract. She grabbed it, ripped it in half.

"Oops," she said, sweet. "Guess no job for you."

I stared at the pieces on the floor. Rent. Food. A bed. Gone in two seconds.

And then Marco moved.

Fast. He caught Victoria’s wrist before she could do more. Not hard. Just enough.

"Don’t touch what isn’t yours," he said. His voice wasn’t smiling anymore.

Victoria yanked away. "You’re choosing her over me?"

"I’m choosing not to be an asshole," Marco said. "Novel concept."

Luca stood. "Get out, Victoria."

"This isn’t over."

"It is."

She left. The door shook in the frame.

Silence.

Nico picked up the pieces of the contract and set them on the desk. "We can print another one."

Luca looked at me. "Still want it?"

I looked at Marco. He was still watching me, that grin gone, something else in his eyes now. Respect, maybe. Or trouble.

I looked at the floor, at my shoes with blisters.

"Yes," I said. "I want it."

Luca nodded. "Then you start tonight. Pack one bag. Driver will get you at 7."

"What about the west wing rule?" I asked.

"You’ll learn why," he said. "For now, just don’t go in there."

I nodded and walked out, contract in my bag, heart beating too fast.

The lobby was empty except for Mia.

She was waiting by the host stand, arms crossed, smoking even though there were signs. She saw me, saw the folder in my hand, and her mouth twisted.

"Well well," she said, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "Look who came crawling back."

I kept walking.

"Got fired yesterday, begging today?" Mia called after me. "Must be nice to be poor. You’ll do anything for money, huh?"

My face burned. I didn’t turn around.

Behind me I heard her laugh. "Don’t last a week, watch."

The glass doors closed behind me and the air hit my face. Cold.

A black car was already waiting. The driver opened the door.

Behind me, from the other side of the glass, I heard Marco’s voice. Low, to Luca. "Did you hear that?"

And Luca: "I did."

I got in.

At 7pm the driver took me to the Moretti house.

It wasn’t a house. It was a fortress. Gates, stone, lights that made everything look like a movie. The driver didn’t speak. He just handed me a keycard.

"Your room is on the second floor. East wing. Don’t go west."

My room was bigger than my studio. Bed, closet, bathroom with hot water. There was food in the mini fridge. Real food.

I sat on the bed and cried for the first time in months. Quiet. So no one would hear.

At 9pm there was a knock.

Marco.

He was in sweats, hair messy, holding two plates.

"Dinner," he said. "You probably didn’t eat."

"I’m fine."

"You’re not," he said, and walked in anyway. Set the plate down. "Luca’s rule about the west wing? It’s serious."

"Why?"

"Because there are things in there we don’t talk about." He looked at me then, really looked. "And because if you go in, people get hurt."

I nodded.

He hesitated at the door. "For what it’s worth... you handled Victoria better than I would have."

"Thanks."

"Don’t thank me yet," he said, and grinned. "You live with five men now. We’re a problem."

He left.

I ate. I showered. I locked my door.

And at 2:13am, I heard footsteps in the hall. Slow. Stopping right outside my door.

Then they kept going, toward the west wing.