Chapter 4 - The Ledger
My new life, it turned out, was terrifyingly glamorous.
When I woke up the next morning, my gray, starchy housekeeper uniform was gone. In its place, draped over the velvet armchair, was a staggering array of designer clothing. Silk blouses, tailored pencil skirts, cashmere sweaters, and a pair of Christian Louboutin heels that cost more than my car.
A handwritten note sat on top of the pile. Dress the part. - A.
I swallowed my pride, showered, and put on a navy-blue silk blouse and a fitted black skirt. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I didn't look like Elena the maid anymore. I looked like a woman who belonged in this cutthroat world. The realization made my stomach churn.
A nanny—a sweet older woman named Maria, personally vetted by Alessandro—arrived to watch Emma, who was happily eating pancakes and watching cartoons on a flat-screen TV.
"Mama looks like a princess!" Emma cheered through a mouthful of syrup.
I kissed her forehead. "Be good for Maria, okay? Mama has to go to work."
I took a deep breath, walked down the grand staircase, and bypassed the servant’s corridors entirely. I walked straight up to the heavy oak doors of Alessandro’s private study and pushed them open.
Alessandro was seated at his massive desk, speaking rapidly in Italian into a telephone headset. He looked up when I entered. For a split second, the conversation stopped. His eyes darkened, raking over my new attire, lingering on the curve of my waist and the length of my legs before snapping back up to my face.
He finished his call, ripped the headset off, and gestured to a smaller, sleek mahogany desk set up in the corner of the room. My desk.
"Sit," he commanded.
I sat. "What exactly does your personal assistant do, Mr. Moretti?"
"Alessandro," he corrected smoothly. "If you call me Mr. Moretti, people will think you are a subordinate. You are not a subordinate. You are my shadow." He slid a towering stack of black leather-bound ledgers across his desk. "Start with these. Cross-reference the shipping manifests from the Brooklyn port with the offshore accounts. Tell me if you see anything strange."
I blinked. "You're letting me look at your financial records? I’m a maid. I could be a spy. I could be an idiot."
Alessandro stood up, walking slowly around his desk until he was leaning against it, mere inches from my chair. "You aren't an idiot, Elena. A maid doesn't notice a three-inch zipper discrepancy on a maternity dress from across a crowded ballroom. A maid doesn't deduce that a billionaire's fiancé is faking a pregnancy. You have a sharper eye than my entire intelligence division. Now, read."
I blushed, looking down at the ledgers. For the next three hours, the room was silent except for the ticking of a grandfather clock and the rustle of paper.
Despite my lack of a business degree, I was good at puzzles. I always had been. As I traced the numbers, a pattern began to emerge. A dark, ugly pattern.
"Alessandro," I said quietly, breaking the silence.
He looked up from his laptop. "Yes?"
"These shipments from the Brooklyn port... they aren't matching the invoices sent to the Cole family holding company. There’s a discrepancy. A big one."
He was beside my desk in an instant. He leaned over my shoulder, one hand resting on the back of my chair, the other planted on the desk. He was so close I could feel his breath on my neck. My pulse skyrocketed.
"Show me," he murmured, his voice rumbling right by my ear.
I pointed a trembling finger at the columns. "The Coles were supposed to be importing textiles. But the weight of these shipping containers is wrong. It’s too heavy for silk and cotton. And the routing numbers for the payments... they aren't going to the Cole family trust. They’re being diverted to a shell company in the Cayman Islands. A company heavily in debt."
Alessandro stared at the numbers. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocating.
"Vanessa wasn't just faking a pregnancy to secure a marriage," I whispered, the realization dawning on me. "Her family is broke. They were using your docks to smuggle something heavy, and skimming the profits to pay off a massive debt. They needed the marriage to cover their tracks before you found out."
Alessandro slowly stood up. The terrifying, calculating coldness in his eyes had returned, but this time, it wasn't directed at me.
"Guns," he said softly. "They were smuggling weapons through my territory."
He looked down at me, and for a moment, the coldness melted, replaced by a burning admiration that made my breath catch.
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"You just saved my empire for the second time in twenty-four hours, Elena."
Before I could process the compliment, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open.
