Chapter 4 - Dinner with the Morettis
The dining room looked like a scene straight out of a gothic Victorian novel.
A massive mahogany table, long enough to seat twenty people comfortably, sat in the center of the room beneath a glittering crystal chandelier that cast intricate shadows across the dark wainscoting. Silverware gleamed under the soft lighting, and porcelain plates rested upon heavy linen placemats.
At the head of the table sat Adrian Moretti. He had changed out of his suit into a crisp black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing lean, corded muscles and a faint, jagged scar running along his inner wrist.
Claire walked in, having changed into a spare blouse and dark trousers she had managed to salvage from her suitcase. The triplets sat clustered together on the left side of the table, whispering furiously among themselves while keeping wary eyes on her.
“Sit,” Adrian commanded, gesturing to the seat directly opposite him at the other end of the vast expanse of wood.
Claire walked over and pulled out the chair, sitting down with quiet grace. A chef in a pristine white coat emerged from the swinging doors of the kitchen, carrying a silver tray laden with roasted chicken, steamed asparagus, and truffle risotto. He plated the food with clinical precision and quietly vanished back into the kitchen.
For several minutes, the only sound in the grand dining room was the gentle clinking of silverware against fine china.
Claire cut into her chicken, trying to ignore the heavy, suffocating weight of Adrian’s gaze fixed entirely on her. Across the table, the boys picked at their food, their earlier bravado completely replaced by a tense, watchful quiet.
Finally, Adrian broke the silence.
“The boys didn’t lock themselves in their room tonight,” Adrian noted, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. “Nor did they dump anything on your head when you walked past the second-floor landing. What did you do to them?”
Claire took a slow sip of water before looking up to meet his gray gaze—the exact same shade as his sons’.
“I introduced myself, Mr. Moretti,” Claire said smoothly. “It turns out children behave a lot better when they realize their antics are entirely predictable and profoundly unoriginal.”
Noah dropped his fork, the metal clattering loudly against his plate. “We are not unoriginal!”
“Noah,” Adrian warned softly, his voice barely above a whisper. It was all it took. The boy instantly shrunk back into his chair, biting his lower lip and glaring at his plate.
Adrian turned his attention back to Claire, a flicker of dangerous curiosity dancing in his eyes. “You have a unique way of speaking to people who hold absolute authority over your employment.”
“Authority is something you earn, Mr. Moretti, not something you inherit just because you can afford a mansion in Westchester and a fleet of security guards,” Claire fired back, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline. The exhaustion and the stress of the past few months suddenly melted away, replaced by a reckless, liberating spark of defiance. What did she have to lose? She was already broke; she was already facing eviction. The worst he could do was fire her, and frankly, dealing with Adrian Moretti was starting to feel less terrifying and more like an intense game of chess.
Adrian went completely still. The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The triplets stopped breathing, watching their father with wide, terrified eyes. Everyone in the Moretti household knew that crossing Adrian Moretti meant swift, unmerciful consequences.
For five agonizing seconds, nobody moved.
May you like
Then, slowly, a low, deep rumble of laughter escaped Adrian’s throat. It wasn’t a warm laugh, but it was genuine. It was the sound of a man who hadn’t been genuinely challenged in a very long time, finding a strange, morbid amusement in the fact that a soaking-wet, broke single mother had just talked back to him at his own dinner table.
“You have a remarkable death wish, Miss Donovan,” Adrian murmured, picking up his wine glass and taking a slow sip. “Let’s see if you still have it tomorrow morning.”
