Chapter 2 - The Dead Man Who Was Supposed to Be Alive
I didn't understand what Matteo meant.
Neither did Eleanor.
“I'm sorry?”
Matteo stood beside the table, looking at her with an expression I couldn't read.
“When did your husband die?”
“November twelfth.”
“How?”
“A car accident.”
“Where?”
“Outside Hartford.”
“Who told you?”
Eleanor blinked.
“The police.”
Matteo looked at his bodyguard.
“Call me.”
The man stepped away.
I returned with the soup and cake.
Rosie clapped softly.
“Thank you.”
I set them down.
Matteo was still standing.
“Sit,” I said before I realized what I was doing.
His eyes moved toward me.
For a second, I thought I'd crossed a line.
Then, unexpectedly, he sat.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Mia.”
“Mia what?”
“Mia Bennett.”
He repeated it once.
“Mia.”
It sounded different coming from him.
He turned back to Eleanor.
“Your husband worked for my shipping company?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“Inventory control.”
Matteo frowned.
“He was a logistics coordinator.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“He had another job title.”
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
“What title?”
“I don't know.”
“You lived with him.”
“He never told me much about work.”
Something about that made sense.
Men who moved dangerous things through dangerous places rarely discussed details at home.
Matteo picked up his phone.
His bodyguard returned.
“Sir.”
“Any record?”
“Not yet.”
“Check the accident report.”
He nodded.
Eleanor looked uncomfortable.
“I'm sorry.”
Matteo glanced at her.
“For what?”
“For bringing this into your restaurant.”
A strange expression crossed his face.
“You didn't.”
His gaze moved toward me.
“They did.”
I knew who he meant.
Mr. Ricca.
The manager.
The man who had told me to keep poor people out whenever possible because “customers pay for atmosphere.”
I suddenly felt ashamed.
I had heard that sentence a hundred times.
I had simply never questioned it.
Matteo must have seen it on my face.
“You lied to them.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I stared at him.
“Because I was afraid of losing my job.”
He nodded.
“At least you're honest now.”
I didn't know whether that was forgiveness.
It felt more like a warning.
After Rosie finished eating, she pushed the bowl toward her mother.
“Mama, you have some.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
“There's enough.”
Rosie tore off a piece of bread and placed it on her mother's plate.
“You have to eat.”
Something in that destroyed me.
I looked away.
Matteo didn't.
He watched them quietly.
Then he asked Eleanor:
“Where are you staying tonight?”
“I'll figure something out.”
“No.”
“I don't want trouble.”
“You already have it.”
She looked frightened.
Matteo's voice softened.
“Take the room my company keeps at the Riverside.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“Why?”
“Because your husband died working for me.”
Eleanor looked at me.
I could see the question in her eyes.
Was he dangerous?
Was this help real?
Was there a trap?
Matteo seemed to understand.
“No conditions.”
“Why?”
He paused.
“Because Daniel once saved my life.”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“You knew my husband?”
“Not as well as I should have.”
He sat back.
“And that's my mistake.”
That sentence stayed with me.
The most feared man in the city had just admitted a mistake.
Not to his employees.
Not to the police.
To a woman he had just met.
And a child who had asked for pasta.
The night ended with Eleanor accepting the hotel room.
Before leaving, Rosie hugged Matteo without asking.
He froze.
His bodyguards stared.
I nearly laughed.
Rosie pulled away.
“You smell like Grandpa's cologne.”
Matteo's expression softened.
“I never met your grandpa.”
“My daddy said you did.”
Matteo looked at Eleanor.
“Did Daniel talk about me?”
“Sometimes.”
“What did he say?”
Eleanor smiled sadly.
“That you were hard to understand.”
Matteo almost smiled.
“He wasn't wrong.”
Rosie reached for my hand.
“Are you coming too?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I'm working.”
“Can you come tomorrow?”
I smiled.
“Maybe.”
Matteo looked at me.
“Come.”
I blinked.
“Sir?”
“Tomorrow.”
I didn't understand.
“What for?”
He looked at Rosie.
“She likes you.”
Rosie nodded vigorously.
“She was mean at first.”
My face burned.
Matteo's mouth twitched.
“But she brought us back.”
“I did.”
“So tomorrow,” he said, “you can help us have a better first impression.”
I laughed softly.
“That's not really my job.”
“Neither was tonight.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“Mia.”
“Yes?”
“Never refuse food to someone because they're poor again.”
I lowered my eyes.
“I won't.”
“Good.”
He left.
I stood there for several seconds after the door closed.
Mr. Ricca appeared from the kitchen.
“What was all that?”
I turned.
“I don't know.”
He glanced toward table eleven.
“You should stay away from that man.”
“Why?”
“Because people who get close to Matteo DeLuca don't usually have normal lives afterward.”
I looked at the empty table.
Maybe he was right.
But when I went home that night, I couldn't stop thinking about Rosie.
And about what Matteo had said.
Daniel was supposed to be alive.
The next morning, I arrived at Laut early.
There was already a black SUV outside.
Matteo was waiting.
I froze.
“You're early.”
He looked at me.
“I don't sleep much.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because the accident report came in.”
I stepped closer.
“And?”
He handed me a file.
Daniel Ruiz had not died in a car accident.
The vehicle had been found burned.
The official report had been altered.
And the last phone call Daniel made before his death had been to Laut.
To Mr. Ricca.
I stared at the page.
“Why would he call the restaurant manager?”
“I don't know.”
Matteo took the file back.
“But I know this.”
He looked directly at me.
“Someone wanted Daniel dead.”
I thought of Eleanor.
Of Rosie.
Of the church basement.
Then I realized something.
“Why did they come here?”
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“They could have gone anywhere.”
He didn't answer.
“They came to this restaurant.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said:
“Because your manager knew they were coming.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mr. Ricca?”
May you like
Matteo nodded.
“And he didn't tell me.”
