Chapter 1 - The Morning His Mother Found Her Under His Jacket—and the Fake Romance That Could Destroy Two Powerful Families
Elena Foster woke beneath the jacket of the most dangerous man in Chicago.
For three confused seconds, she did not know where she was.
Dark leather lay beneath her cheek. A dying fire glowed beyond a wall of glass. Gray morning light bled through enormous windows overlooking the city. A black suit jacket covered her from shoulders to knees.
Then she heard a woman laugh softly from the doorway.
Not cruelly.
Worse.
Delightedly.
“Oh,” the woman whispered. “Finally.”
Elena’s eyes flew open.
Sebastian Romano stood approximately six feet away.
The feared head of the Romano family, the man prosecutors had repeatedly failed to indict, the man businessmen crossed streets to avoid and half of Chicago’s political class pretended not to know, stood beside a mahogany desk in his shirtsleeves.
His tie was gone.
The top two buttons of his white shirt were open.
His dark hair was slightly disordered.
He had apparently fallen asleep in the chair opposite Elena.
His mother, Isabella Romano, stood in the doorway holding two porcelain cups of coffee.
Her gaze moved from Sebastian to Elena, then to Sebastian’s jacket covering Elena, and back again.
Elena sat up so quickly that the ledger on her lap slid onto the floor.
“No.”
Isabella’s smile deepened.
Elena pointed helplessly toward Sebastian.
“This is not—”
Sebastian opened his eyes.
Even half asleep, he looked dangerous.
His expression sharpened instantly as he assessed the room, the doorway, his mother, and finally Elena.
Then comprehension entered his dark eyes.
Elena waited for him to correct the obvious misunderstanding.
Instead, Sebastian calmly said, “Mother, yes. Please don’t tell Grandmother yet.”
Elena stared at him.
Isabella’s eyes widened with delighted horror.
Sebastian looked directly at Elena.
For one extraordinary second, she saw something almost mischievous beneath the cold discipline of his face.
Then Isabella turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Elena threw his jacket at him.
“What did you just do?”
Sebastian caught it with one hand.
“Bought us approximately twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes until what?”
His phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
“Seventeen.”
He answered.
A woman’s thunderous Italian voice erupted loudly enough for Elena to hear from several feet away.
“Sebastian Romano, you bring that girl to breakfast.”
He closed his eyes.
Elena folded her arms.
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“You said twenty minutes.”
“She’s improving.”
Sebastian ended the call.
Elena stared at him.
She had spent the previous fourteen hours reconciling accounts for the Romano Family Foundation after its annual charity gala. She had expected tedious spreadsheets, overpriced champagne invoices, and wealthy donors with complicated tax deductions.
She had not expected to wake beneath a mafia boss’s jacket and accidentally become his girlfriend before breakfast.
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
The single word stopped her.
Not because Sebastian raised his voice.
Sebastian Romano never seemed to need to.
Elena turned slowly.
“You do understand that telling an accountant no usually makes us want to do something more.”
His gaze moved to the ledger on the floor.
“That ledger is why you cannot leave.”
The amusement disappeared from Elena’s face.
Sebastian crossed the room and picked it up. A page had been folded at one corner. Elena’s handwriting filled the margin beside the amount that had kept her awake until four in the morning.
“I found duplicate vendor transfers,” she said.
“I know.”
“How?”
“I found you asleep beside them.”
Elena remembered working alone after the gala staff had gone. The accounting team had given her temporary access to the foundation’s records. She had moved into Sebastian’s office because the ballroom cleanup crew was making too much noise downstairs.
She remembered finishing the reconciliation.
She remembered closing her eyes for what she had promised herself would be ten seconds.
Nothing after that.
“You covered me with your jacket.”
“You were cold.”
Something inconvenient fluttered beneath her ribs.
She ignored it.
“And then you fell asleep watching me.”
“I fell asleep investigating your numbers.”
“That sounds less creepy.”
“It should.”
“Barely.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then he opened the ledger.
“The vendor is called Bellanova Outreach.”
“Yes.”
“A legitimate foundation contractor.”
“On paper.”
Sebastian looked at her.
Elena stepped closer despite herself.
“Bellanova was paid for mobile clinics in neighborhoods on the South Side, but the invoices use repeating serial numbers. Different dates, same equipment. The payment approvals were split into amounts small enough to avoid secondary authorization.”
Sebastian’s expression became colder with every sentence.
“Who authorized them?”
“Someone using your foundation controller’s credentials.”
“He died six months ago.”
Elena stopped.
“What?”
“In March.”
She looked back at the figures.
“Transfers continued through June.”
A chill replaced her embarrassment.
“Someone’s using a dead man’s credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Sebastian, this isn’t sloppy bookkeeping.”
“I know.”
“It’s theft.”
“I know.”
“From a charity.”
His eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
Elena studied him. She had been warned before accepting the contract. The Romano Foundation did genuine work, supporting hospitals, shelters, scholarships, and food programs. But the family behind it existed inside a world Elena had deliberately avoided for her entire life.
She had assumed Sebastian Romano would care about reputation before morality.
What she saw in his face changed that assumption.
Rage.
Quiet.
Controlled.
Lethal.
“You already suspected something.”
Sebastian closed the ledger.
“For three months.”
“Then why hire an outsider?”
“Because my own people found nothing.”
“And you thought I would?”
“I thought you couldn’t be bought.”
Elena blinked.
“That’s flattering.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
“Of course not.”
Sebastian moved toward the windows. Below them, Chicago was waking beneath silver clouds, traffic beginning to crawl along the avenues.
“My family is preparing to announce my engagement.”
Elena frowned.
“Congratulations.”
“No. Condolences.”
He glanced at her.
“To Victoria Duca.”
The name meant something even to Elena.
Duca Hotels.
Duca Construction.
Duca Restaurants.
And, according to half the newspapers in Chicago, a family whose money, influence, and criminal associations stretched back generations.
Sebastian continued.
“Her family introduced Bellanova Outreach to our foundation.”
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“You think they’re involved?”
“I think something is happening. Suspicion is not proof.”
“And marrying Victoria gives them what?”
“Permanent access.”
“So don’t marry her.”
A humorless smile touched his mouth.
“In my world, marriages can stop wars.”
“And miserable marriages start none?”
“Sometimes they prevent funerals.”
That silenced her.
Sebastian turned toward her fully.
“My grandmother intends to announce the engagement at her birthday dinner next week.”
Elena stared.
“What does any of that have to do with your mother believing we slept together?”
“Everything.”
She started to respond.
Then understood.
“No.”
“My family will delay the announcement if they believe—”
“No.”
“—that I’m involved with someone else.”
“No.”
“It gives me time.”
“And you think the answer is to let your mother believe I spent the night with you?”
“She already believes it.”
“Because I fell asleep doing my job!”
“I’m aware.”
“You could have explained that.”
“I could have.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Sebastian studied her with infuriating calm.
“Because my mother has spent the last year trying to convince me that I need someone who can see beyond my surname. She believes I have turned my life into an endless sequence of obligations and that I will wake up one morning too old to remember what happiness looks like.”
Elena blinked.
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is.”
“Then solve it personally.”
“I intend to.”
She stared at him.
He continued.
“If my grandmother believes I have a serious relationship, she will postpone the announcement. That buys me time to determine who is stealing from the foundation and why the Duca family is connected to it.”
“And how does pretending to be your girlfriend help me?”
“It gives you legitimate access to more of the foundation’s records. You would be introduced as someone whose involvement I can explain openly instead of an outside contractor whose access my relatives can revoke.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Sebastian was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “You would be paid as a consultant, separately from any personal arrangement. Your work would continue under your own professional agreement. You could refuse the public appearances, and you would be free to withdraw from the arrangement whenever you wished.”
Elena studied him carefully.
“And the romantic part?”
“A public relationship. No physical affection unless we both agree. No entering your room, no monitoring your private life, and no demands concerning who you see or where you go.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You've thought about this.”
“I run a complicated organization.”
“That is one description of it.”
His gaze remained steady.
“I will not use your employment to pressure you into this, Elena. If you refuse, your invoice will be paid, and you may leave this building without any further involvement in my family's affairs.”
For the first time that morning, she believed him.
That did not mean she liked the proposal.
It meant she could evaluate it without wondering whether a refusal would cost her everything.
She thought about her student loans, the medical bills her father had left behind, and the contract that was supposed to help her build a better financial future.
She also thought about the figures in the ledger.
The duplicate invoices were not abstract irregularities. They represented money that had been promised to mobile clinics serving people who desperately needed medical care.
Someone had taken funds intended for those communities and hidden the theft behind paperwork.
Elena could walk away.
She could also refuse to let someone else's fear determine what she did next.
“If I agree,” she said, “I have conditions.”
Sebastian pulled out a chair.
“I'm listening.”
“First, I need direct access to every relevant invoice, payment record, authorization log, and vendor agreement. No one gets to hide documents because they think I don't need to see them.”
“Agreed.”
“Second, I report my findings to an independent attorney as well as to you. If I discover evidence of a crime, I will not destroy it, conceal it, or change my conclusions because your family dislikes them.”
Sebastian nodded.
“Agreed.”
“Third, you don't get to order me around in public and call it protection.”
“Agreed.”
“Fourth, I decide what I say about our relationship. You don't get to invent romantic details about me.”
His mouth twitched.
“Understood.”
“And fifth, I want a written contract specifying payment, the duration of the arrangement, and the right to end it immediately.”
“Luca can have one prepared.”
Elena folded her arms.
“You agree rather easily for a man whose family apparently runs half the city.”
“People who agree to reasonable terms often save themselves unnecessary trouble.”
“That almost sounded sensible.”
“I'm having a difficult morning.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
Then the realization returned.
“Wait. Your mother.”
Sebastian checked his phone.
“Eleven missed calls.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“My career is over.”
“Not necessarily.”
“My professional reputation is about to become a family breakfast conversation.”
“Almost certainly.”
“My face is probably already being discussed by a woman I have never met.”
“Several women, if my grandmother has awakened the household.”
Elena looked at him in disbelief.
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“I could throw your own ledger at you.”
“That would be a poor use of important evidence.”
She laughed once, unwillingly.
It was the first genuine laugh she had produced since entering the office the previous afternoon.
Sebastian noticed.
For an instant, his expression softened in a way that made him seem less like the man whose name frightened Chicago and more like someone who had forgotten what it felt like to share a quiet moment with another person.
Then his phone rang again.
He looked at the screen.
“Grandmother.”
Elena pointed at him.
“Tell her the truth.”
He answered.
“Good morning, Nonna.”
“Where is the girl?”
Sebastian looked at Elena.
“She is here.”
“Then bring her to breakfast.”
“I was planning to.”
“And Sebastian?”
“Yes?”
A pause.
“Do not make me come upstairs. My knees are too old to chase you through that enormous house.”
He almost smiled.
“I would never permit it.”
“Good. I have already told Isabella to prepare another place at the table.”
The call ended.
Elena stared at him.
“How many people live in this building?”
“Not as many as my grandmother believes she can command.”
“That wasn't my question.”
He offered her the jacket she had thrown at him.
“Welcome to the Romano family, Elena.”
She accepted it reluctantly.
“I haven't agreed to be your girlfriend.”
“No.”
“And I haven't agreed to marry anyone.”
“Noted.”
“And if your grandmother starts discussing wedding dates, I'm leaving.”
Sebastian opened the office door.
“Then we'd better have an interesting breakfast.”
Elena followed him into the corridor, clutching the ledger against her chest.
She had come to the Romano estate to reconcile accounts.
She was now about to sit at breakfast with a mafia family, pretend to date its most feared member, and investigate a financial scheme that might involve people powerful enough to make a dead man disappear from the records.
She should have felt only fear.
Instead, as Sebastian walked beside her and quietly adjusted his pace to match hers, Elena felt an unfamiliar spark of excitement.
She had no idea whether the fake relationship would survive the week.
She had no idea whether Sebastian Romano could be trusted with the truth.
But she knew one thing.
May you like
Someone had stolen money meant for the vulnerable.
And Elena Foster had never been good at leaving a balance sheet unfinished.
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