Chapter 1 - The Broken Light
I had twelve candles left.
That was all. Twelve candles, one silver lighter, and a dining room full of people pretending not to notice that I could barely see out of my left eye.
I leaned across the long mahogany table, my knees trembling beneath my black apron. The flame touched the wick, and suddenly the room doubled. Crystal water goblets blurred together. The massive chandelier became two blinding chandeliers hovering above twenty-four wealthy guests. I nearly lowered my hand into the centerpiece of white orchids and flickering glass.
“Careful, Julia.”
Vanessa Bellini’s sharp voice cut across the quiet room. “You’re lighting candles, not performing surgery.”
A few guests near the center of the table smiled politely. I straightened my spine, my face burning beneath my heavy makeup.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Then try not to set anything on fire.”
I moved toward the next candle, holding my breath. That was when Luca Moretti spoke.
“Julia.”
I stopped. “Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Look at me.”
My stomach tightened into a hard, cold knot. I turned my face toward him—not all the way, just enough to keep my thick dark hair draped over the left side of my jawline.
Luca put down his silver fork. At thirty-nine, the head of the Moretti family empire was a tall, imposing man in a tailored black suit. He was the kind of man who noticed when someone answered a question half a second too quickly.
“Move your hair, Julia.”
Vanessa laughed softly, adjusting her red silk gown and touching her diamond earrings. “For heaven’s sake, Luca. She walked into the conservatory door this afternoon. She’s embarrassed.”
My hand froze around the lighter. Luca slowly turned his cold gray eyes toward his fiancée.
“The conservatory?”
“Yes, darling,” Vanessa lifted her wineglass, taking a delicate sip. “She was carrying flower boxes and apparently forgot glass is solid.”
I stared straight ahead at the burning candles. Because I had never told Vanessa I couldn’t see properly. I had never told anyone. And I had definitely not walked into a glass door.
My name is Julia Bennett. I was twenty-eight, had worked as a maid at the Moretti estate in Chicago for eleven months, and had spent the last four hours pretending the left side of my face wasn’t throbbing with agony. My cheekbone was swollen, there was a small cut beneath my eyebrow, and every few minutes, my vision split into two.
I should have gone to an emergency room. But my rent was due Monday, my father’s unpaid heating bill was sitting on my kitchen counter, and Vanessa had cornered me in the hallway four hours ago:
“If Luca hears one word about what happened in that conservatory, you won’t just lose this job. I’ll make sure your father loses his pension.”
Luca looked back at me. “Move your hair, Julia.”
Slowly, I tucked my hair behind my ear.
The dining room went dead silent. A dark, ugly bruise covered my left cheekbone, and the skin under my eyebrow was visibly swollen.
Vanessa sighed dramatically. “It looks worse than it is.”
Luca looked at her. “You examined her?”
Vanessa’s smile tightened. “No.”
“Then how do you know?”
Nobody spoke. Luca turned his gray eyes back to me. “Can you see clearly?”
“Yes, sir,” I lied.
Luca picked up the small cream-colored menu card beside his plate. “What does this say?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. From where I stood, the fine black print was a smudged grey streak. I tried to guess. “Roasted… sea bass.”
Luca said nothing. Because the card said filet mignon.
Vanessa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “She probably needs glasses.”
Luca’s voice dropped into a terrifyingly quiet register. “Apparently, she also needs you to answer for her.”
Vanessa stopped smiling.
Luca pushed the empty leather dining chair beside him away from the table. “Sit down, Julia.”
“Sir, I still have the candles—”
“Someone else can light candles. Sit.”
I lowered myself carefully into the chair beside the most dangerous man in Chicago. Luca leaned slightly closer, his dark scent of cedarwood and rain wrapping around me.
“What happened in the conservatory?”
I stared at my trembling hands. “I walked into the door.”
“What were you carrying?”
“Flowers.”
Vanessa immediately spoke up. “White orchids.”
Luca’s gaze drifted slowly back to his fiancée. “White orchids? That’s interesting. The orchids arrived this morning and were brought directly into the ballroom.”
Silence descended over the table.
Luca turned back to me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you afraid of losing your job?”
My eyes instantly filled with hot tears. “Yes, sir.”
May you like
“You won’t,” Luca promised softly. Then he looked across the table at Vanessa and asked a question that made her fingers tighten around her glass until the crystal groaned.
“Julia… who were you protecting?”
