Chapter 8 - LUCA CLEANED HIS OWN HOUSE
The Bellini merger died.
Publicly:
Strategic incompatibility.
Privately:
Fraud, betrayal, attempted evidence destruction and two drugged dogs.
Moretti Holdings began an independent audit.
Luca hated every week of it.
I enjoyed that more than was appropriate.
The audit found things unrelated to Marco.
Cash payments nobody could justify.
Security contractors using intimidation.
Managers keeping blacklists of former staff.
Informal debts.
Off-book favors.
Luca closed several operations.
Sold two clubs.
Replaced three executives.
Created a confidential employee-reporting channel outside the Moretti chain of command.
Matteo called it “corporate therapy.”
Luca called it expensive.
Bruno recovered.
Slowly.
Arthritis remained.
He slept more.
His muzzle became almost completely gray.
But every morning, Luca still spent fifteen minutes with him in the garden.
Diesel returned to duty after the veterinarian cleared him.
He never liked men carrying briefcases again.
Understandable.
Then I resigned.
Luca stared at the letter.
“No.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He closed his eyes.
“I've apparently developed a bad response.”
“Why?”
“I got accepted.”
Hospitality-management program.
Eighteen months.
Evening classes.
Paid internship with a boutique hotel group after the first semester.
I had started community-college courses years earlier.
Stopped when my father died and my mother’s rent fell to me.
“What about your brother?”
“Graduating.”
“Your mother?”
“Still terrifying.”
“Good.”
He looked at the letter again.
“I can adjust your schedule.”
“No.”
“Higher salary?”
“No.”
“Tuition?”
“Absolutely not.”
He sighed.
“What am I allowed to say?”
“Congratulations.”
He looked irritated.
Then:
“Congratulations.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
As I reached the door, he said:
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“I'll miss you.”
That stopped me.
No offer.
No order.
Just truth.
“I'll miss Bruno.”
His expression flattened.
I laughed.
“And you.”
May you like
Better.
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