Chapter 7 - Protection Has a Price
The first time Allesio kissed Delaney, she stopped him.
Not because she didn’t want it.
That was the problem.
They stood behind the Copper Kettle after midnight.
The alley smelled like rain and old brick.
Delaney had spent fourteen hours working.
Allesio had spent three pretending he was not waiting for her shift to end.
“You’re staring again,” she said.
“You say that often.”
“You do it often.”
“Occupational weakness.”
“What occupation requires staring at waitresses?”
“None I’m admitting to.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“Allesio.”
“Yes?”
“What happens when this is over?”
“The Howerin investigation?”
“All of it.”
He understood.
“The diner. Juny. My mother’s files. You showing up everywhere.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“I’m trying not to make promises for you.”
She looked at him.
“That is annoyingly mature.”
“I’m having a difficult month.”
She smiled.
Then he leaned closer.
Slowly enough for her to step away.
She didn’t.
His hand lifted toward her cheek.
Delaney’s breath changed.
Their mouths nearly touched.
Then she placed her palm against his chest.
“Wait.”
Allesio stopped instantly.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
She studied him.
“No argument?”
“You said wait.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
For a woman who had spent much of her life explaining no to men who treated it like a debate, the answer mattered.
She lowered her hand.
“I’m scared.”
“Of me?”
“Partly.”
He accepted it.
“And partly because I like you.”
“That frightens you more?”
“Yes.”
“Reasonable.”
She laughed softly.
Then her face sobered.
“I don’t want to become the poor waitress rescued by the dangerous rich man.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“I don’t want that either.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
His expression was steady.
“I spent ten years thinking I owed you a life.”
“That sounds dramatic.”
“I am Italian.”
She smiled.
“But then I found you.”
His voice lowered.
“And you didn’t need a life from me. You already built one.”
Something inside her softened.
“What do you want then?”
“To be allowed in it.”
Delaney looked at him.
Then kissed him.
Once.
Briefly.
She stepped backward immediately.
“That was all you get.”
Allesio looked stunned.
She smiled.
“Good night.”
He watched her walk away.
Marco emerged from the car.
“You look ridiculous.”
Allesio opened the rear door.
“Speak again and you’re fired.”
Marco laughed.
The next morning brought consequences.
Howerin Foundation’s attorneys filed suit against Delaney for theft of confidential records.
Television headlines changed.
WAITRESS STOLE CORPORATE FILES, FOUNDATION CLAIMS.
Randolph gave an interview.
He described Elaine Shaw as unstable.
He claimed the files were fabricated.
Then he said something Delaney had not expected.
“Ms. Shaw is being manipulated by organized crime.”
Her photograph appeared beside Allesio’s.
Delaney watched from the diner.
“I knew this would happen.”
Allesio stood behind her.
“Do you regret it?”
“Finding the files?”
“Me.”
She turned.
“No.”
The answer affected him more than she knew.
But then she continued.
“I regret kissing you.”
His eyebrows rose.
“That seemed convincing at the time.”
“I knew you’d be annoying.”
Ruth Anne shouted from the grill, “Either date or don’t. Some of us are trying to cook.”
Delaney turned red.
Allesio smiled.
The humor ended when Detective Ortiz entered.
“Randolph’s gala is tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“We got a warrant for selected financial records.”
Delaney leaned forward.
“And?”
“His lawyers produced almost nothing.”
“Of course.”
“Bryce’s information about the phone may matter.”
“Are you searching the office?”
“No probable cause for the safe specifically.”
Allesio’s eyes narrowed.
“Then what?”
Ortiz looked at Delaney.
“We attend the gala.”
Delaney blinked.
“Who is we?”
“You.”
“No.”
“Bryce placed you on the guest list two weeks ago.”
“He what?”
“Apparently his father wants to make peace publicly.”
Allesio’s expression darkened.
Delaney glanced at him.
“No threats.”
“I said nothing.”
“You developed a threatening atmosphere.”
Ortiz continued.
“If Randolph approaches you, we want you listening.”
“You want me wired?”
“No. We want you observant.”
Delaney looked at the invitation.
Howerin Foundation Annual Children’s Benefit.
Black tie.
Minimum donation: $2,500.
She almost laughed.
“I own one dress.”
Ruth Anne said, “The blue one?”
“Yes.”
“The one you wore to your mother’s funeral?”
Delaney closed her eyes.
“All right. I own zero appropriate dresses.”
Allesio said, “I can—”
“No.”
“I was going to say my cousin owns a boutique.”
“No free dress.”
“You are exhausting.”
“That’s why you like me.”
He paused.
“Yes.”
She had no response.
The gala took place at Howerin Grand Hotel.
Five hundred guests.
Politicians.
Doctors.
Executives.
Donors.
Delaney entered wearing a dark green gown borrowed from Allesio’s cousin.
Borrowed.
She had insisted on paperwork.
Allesio arrived separately.
He wore a tuxedo.
Half the room noticed.
The other half pretended not to.
Bryce met Delaney near the ballroom doors.
“You came.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“Where’s your father?”
“Performing generosity.”
Randolph stood onstage smiling beside photographs of sick children.
Delaney felt physically ill.
Bryce leaned closer.
“Office upstairs. Twenty-second floor.”
“I’m not breaking in.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“What am I doing?”
“Wait.”
Randolph finished his speech.
Applause.
Then he approached Delaney.
Cameras followed.
“Ms. Shaw.”
“Mr. Howerin.”
He smiled warmly.
Anyone watching would see gracious billionaire and nervous waitress.
“I’m sorry for what happened with my son.”
“Are you?”
His smile did not move.
“I believe this conflict has gone too far.”
“My mother believed that too.”
His eyes changed.
Barely.
“You resemble her.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You inherited her stubbornness.”
“And her files.”
The smile disappeared.
For one second.
Then returned.
“Careful.”
The word was whispered.
Delaney stared at him.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“It’s advice.”
Allesio watched from across the room.
Every muscle in his body tightened.
Delaney remembered the rule.
Truth.
Not violence.
She smiled at Randolph.
“My mother followed your advice once.”
“What?”
“She got scared.”
Randolph’s expression remained neutral.
“She stayed quiet.”
Delaney stepped closer.
“And you still lost.”
For the first time, he looked afraid.
Then the ballroom lights went out.
People gasped.
Emergency lighting activated.
Bryce appeared beside Delaney.
“Something’s wrong.”
“What?”
“My father’s leaving.”
Randolph moved quickly through a side exit.
Allesio crossed the room.
“Stay here.”
Delaney ignored him.
They followed.
The elevator doors closed before they reached it.
Bryce hit another button.
“Twenty-two.”
The second elevator rose.
When the doors opened, smoke filled the corridor.
Randolph’s private office was burning.
Bryce whispered, “Oh, no.”
A man ran from the opposite stairwell.
Security chased him.
Inside the burning office, the safe door stood open.
Someone had removed the phone.
And every document Bryce promised them was disappearing into flames.
Then Delaney heard a sound.
A cough.
Inside the office.
“Someone’s in there.”
Allesio grabbed her.
“Fire department is coming.”
Another cough.
Weak.
Delaney pulled away.
“There’s someone in there!”
She ran toward the smoke.
Allesio cursed and followed.
May you like
Ten years earlier, a sixteen-year-old girl had run toward his burning car.
Apparently some things never changed.
