Chapter 2 - The Severance
Clara stared at the pile of money, then up into Matteo Romano's unwavering, pitch-black eyes.
"I am a waitress, Mr. Romano, not a nanny for hire. And my shift ends at midnight." She carefully, deliberately, lowered herself and placed the sleeping Luca back into the ridiculously expensive leather bassinet. The baby stirred, let out a tiny sigh, and settled into the plush lining.
Clara stood up, smoothing her apron. "Change his formula to a hypoallergenic brand. Keep the lights low. If he screams again, tiger-in-the-tree hold. Good evening."
She turned her back on the most dangerous man in New York City and walked toward the kitchen.
When she pushed through the swinging doors, Mr. Sterling was waiting, his face the color of spoiled milk. He pointed a trembling finger at the exit. "Get your things, Clara. You are done here."
"I just stopped a baby from screaming his lungs out and saved your entire dinner service," Clara argued, her blood running cold.
"You approached a known syndicate boss! You put a target on this restaurant! Go. Now. Before he decides to burn this place down because a waitress touched his kid!"
Clara didn't argue. She knew the reality of the city. She stripped off her apron, grabbed her coat from the locker room, and walked out into the freezing Manhattan sleet. The numbness she had carefully cultivated over the last three years was gone, replaced by the ghost-weight of a baby on her forearm. It made her chest ache with a violent, agonizing grief.
She walked three blocks toward the subway before a sleek, black SUV pulled up onto the curb, blocking the crosswalk.
Two of the men from the restaurant stepped out.
"Miss Hayes," the one with the scarred jaw said. He didn't sound angry; he sounded desperate. "Get in the car."
"No," Clara said, stepping back, her medical training calculating flight paths.
The back window rolled down. Matteo Romano sat in the shadows, the bassinet secured in the seat beside him.
"He woke up," Matteo said, his voice tight. "He started screaming again. I tried to hold him the way you did. It didn't work."
"Take him to a pediatrician, Mr. Romano."
"I cannot walk into a public hospital, Clara. There is a bounty on my head and, by extension, my son's." Matteo leaned forward, the streetlights catching the sharp angles of his face. "You aren't just a waitress. I had my men run your name the second you walked away. Clara Hayes. Top of your class at Columbia Med. Two years into a pediatric residency before you dropped off the map."
Clara’s breath hitched. "Don't look into my past."
"I will pay you twenty thousand dollars a week," Matteo offered, the number hanging in the freezing rain. "Live-in. You have complete medical autonomy over the boy. My men will not question you. I will not question you. Just... fix him. Please."
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It wasn't a threat. It was a plea from a broken father. Clara looked at the dark tinted window, hearing the faint, muffled sound of Luca’s renewed cries.
Against every survival instinct she possessed, she pulled open the door and climbed in.
