Chapter 1 - The One Requirement He Couldn't Buy
Natalie Brooks lifted one finger and laughed: "He has to be rich enough not to care about my paycheck."
Behind her, Luca Moretti lowered his whiskey and noticed a folded grocery receipt beneath Natalie's purse.
Three words had been written across it.
"Mom. Friday. Promise."
Luca stopped smiling.
He had not meant to listen.
That was the first lie Luca Moretti told himself.
He stood several feet behind Natalie Brooks on the terrace of one of the most expensive restaurants on the Amalfi Coast, holding a glass he had barely touched while pretending to listen to Marco Bellini discuss shipping contracts.
Instead, he was listening to a woman in yellow describe a man who did not exist.
Or, more annoyingly, a man who sounded almost exactly like him.
"Rich enough not to care about my paycheck," Natalie repeated.
Her blonde friend Sophie laughed. "That's suspiciously specific."
"It is practical."
"Gold digger."
Natalie pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. "I have my own money."
"You're an event coordinator."
"A very talented event coordinator."
"You yelled at a florist yesterday."
"He put lavender in a tropical arrangement. There are laws."
Her friends burst out laughing.
Luca looked down at his drink to hide the beginning of a smile.
Marco noticed.
That was unfortunate.
Marco Bellini had known Luca for twenty-two years and considered noticing things his most irritating talent.
"Something funny?" Marco murmured.
"No."
"The shipping numbers?"
"No."
"The brunette?"
Luca's gaze moved slowly toward him.
Marco raised both hands.
"Understood."
At thirty-three, Luca Moretti had learned that silence usually accomplished more than threats.
People knew his surname from Naples to New York.
Some knew Moretti Holdings, the legitimate corporation controlling hotels, shipping terminals, construction firms, and luxury properties across three countries.
Others knew the older business.
The one without websites.
Luca had spent six years dragging the Moretti organization away from the bloody traditions his father had considered sacred. He had shut down operations he wanted no part of, converted others into legitimate companies, and made enemies among men who preferred the old rules.
But fear had a long memory.
People still lowered their voices when Luca entered a room.
Natalie Brooks did not.
Mostly because she had no idea who he was.
"Second requirement," Natalie announced.
She raised another finger.
"Handsome enough to be annoying."
Her friends groaned.
Luca's eyebrow moved.
Marco stared at him.
"Two for two," he whispered.
"Shut up."
Natalie's friend Rachel leaned across the table. "Define annoyingly handsome."
"The kind who knows he's handsome."
"That's terrible."
"Exactly."
"And you want that?"
"No. I want him handsome enough to know it and smart enough not to mention it."
Laughter circled the table.
Luca took another sip.
Marco whispered, "Still you."
Luca ignored him.
Natalie lifted a third finger.
"And confident enough that he doesn't need everybody's approval."
This time Luca didn't smile.
Something about the way she said it changed.
The joking disappeared for half a second.
There was history beneath those words.
One of Natalie's friends noticed too.
"Unlike Daniel?"
Natalie's expression tightened.
"Especially unlike Daniel."
Luca knew nothing about Daniel.
He immediately disliked him.
"Daniel needed a standing ovation for breathing," Natalie continued. "I spent two years making myself smaller so he could feel bigger. Never again."
Her friends grew quieter.
Natalie reached for her wine.
Then she smiled again.
"But there's one more."
Marco leaned closer to Luca.
"This is getting dangerous."
Luca gave him a warning look.
Natalie raised her fourth finger.
"He has to be humble enough to carry my mother's grocery bags."
Silence.
Then the women exploded with laughter.
Even Natalie laughed.
Luca did not.
Marco looked at Luca's cream suit.
Then at the watch on Luca's wrist.
Then at his polished shoes.
Finally, he looked toward the restaurant entrance, where Luca's driver waited beside a Bentley.
Marco's mouth twitched.
"There it is."
Luca said nothing.
"The fatal flaw."
"Marco."
"You could purchase the supermarket."
"Stop."
"You could purchase the building containing the supermarket."
Luca turned his head.
Marco was enjoying himself far too much.
"But carry the bags yourself?"
Marco shook his head solemnly.
"Impossible."
Luca's jaw tightened.
He had negotiated with politicians, stared down armed men, survived an assassination attempt at twenty-eight, and once bought a bankrupt shipping company during breakfast.
Yet for some reason, the accusation irritated him.
"I can carry groceries."
Marco almost choked.
"I didn't say you physically couldn't."
"Then what's your point?"
"When was the last time you carried your own groceries?"
Luca opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Marco smiled.
"Exactly."
Across the terrace, Natalie was explaining.
"My mom worked two jobs after Dad disappeared. She'd come home exhausted, and she'd still carry everything upstairs herself. So that's my test."
"Your test?" Sophie asked.
"Absolutely."
"What if he's a billionaire?"
"Then the billionaire can carry the milk."
"What if he's wearing a five-thousand-dollar suit?"
Natalie shrugged.
"Then he better be careful with the eggs."
Luca looked at her.
This time he wasn't amused.
He was interested.
Not because she was beautiful, although she was.
Not because half the terrace had noticed her when she walked in.
It was because she had somehow reduced character to something embarrassingly simple.
Would a man carry the bags?
Not could.
Would.
Natalie reached into her purse to pay for something, and a folded receipt slipped onto the floor.
She didn't notice.
Luca did.
The wind pushed it toward his shoe.
He bent and picked it up.
It was a grocery receipt.
On the back, in Natalie's handwriting:
Mom. Friday. Promise.
Beneath it was an address.
He should have handed it back immediately.
Instead, Marco saw it.
"Oh, no."
Luca frowned.
"What?"
"I know that expression."
"I don't have an expression."
"You absolutely do."
Natalie finally turned.
Her eyes met Luca's.
For one second neither spoke.
Then her gaze dropped to the paper in his hand.
"That's mine."
Luca stepped forward.
"Apparently."
He offered it.
Natalie took the receipt.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
She studied him.
Her eyes briefly traveled over the cream suit.
Then his watch.
Then his face.
Something amused her.
Luca knew exactly what she was thinking.
Annoyingly handsome.
His pride should not have enjoyed that.
It did.
"Have we met?" Natalie asked.
"No."
"You look familiar."
Marco coughed behind him.
Luca ignored it.
"Maybe I have one of those faces."
Natalie stared at him.
"No. You definitely don't."
He almost smiled.
"Natalie," Sophie called, "your car's here."
Natalie slid the receipt into her purse.
"Thanks again, Mr. One-of-Those-Faces."
"Luca."
She paused.
"Natalie."
"I heard."
Her eyes narrowed.
"So you were listening."
"Your table wasn't exactly conducting a classified meeting."
She laughed.
"Fair."
Then she walked away.
Luca watched until she disappeared through the terrace doors.
Marco came beside him.
"You are in trouble."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course."
Luca handed his untouched drink to a waiter.
"What's tomorrow?"
"Saturday."
"Clear my afternoon."
Marco stared.
"For what?"
Luca looked toward the doorway Natalie had vanished through.
"I need groceries."
The following afternoon, Natalie was climbing the stairs to her mother's second-floor apartment when her phone rang.
Her mother.
"Where are you?"
"Parking."
"You said that ten minutes ago."
"There was traffic."
"There is always traffic."
Natalie smiled.
"I'm coming."
"And don't buy anything. I already went shopping."
Natalie stopped.
"Mom, you weren't supposed to carry those bags."
"I'm fifty-eight, not ninety-eight."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Natalie reached the building entrance.
"The point is I promised."
She opened the door.
Then froze.
A black Bentley sat at the curb.
Beside it stood Luca.
Cream shirt.
Dark trousers.
No jacket.
And six grocery bags.
Natalie stared.
Luca stared back.
A loaf of bread protruded from one bag.
Celery from another.
The entire image was so absurd that Natalie wondered whether she'd walked into someone else's life.
"What are you doing here?"
"Carrying groceries."
She blinked.
"Why?"
"You said it was a requirement."
Natalie's mouth fell open.
"You followed me?"
"No."
"Then how do you know where my mother lives?"
Luca's expression changed.
That was when Natalie remembered the receipt.
"You memorized the address?"
"I have a good memory."
"That's either impressive or deeply creepy."
"Possibly both."
She should have been angry.
Instead, she laughed.
A real laugh.
Luca looked briefly startled by it.
Then the apartment door above them opened.
"Natalie?"
Her mother appeared at the top of the stairs.
Elena Brooks was small, elegant, and incapable of hiding an opinion.
She looked at Luca.
Then at the groceries.
Then back at Luca.
Something drained from her face.
One bag slipped from Luca's hand.
An orange rolled down the step.
"Mom?"
Elena gripped the railing.
Luca's expression hardened.
For the first time since Natalie had met him, he looked genuinely shaken.
Elena whispered one word.
"Moretti."
Natalie turned toward him.
"What did she call you?"
Luca didn't answer.
A motorcycle screamed around the corner outside.
Luca's head snapped toward the sound.
The rider wore black.
His hand moved inside his jacket.
Luca dropped the bags.
"Natalie, get down."
"What—"
Glass shattered behind her.
Luca lunged.
He grabbed Natalie around the waist and threw them both behind the stone stairwell.
A second shot cracked through the entrance.
Natalie's mother screamed upstairs.
Luca pulled a handgun from beneath his shirt.
Natalie stared at it.
Then at him.
The playful stranger from the restaurant was gone.
Completely.
His eyes were cold.
His voice colder.
"Stay behind me."
Natalie's heart stopped.
Outside, the motorcycle turned around.
May you like
It was coming back.
And Luca raised his gun.
