Chapter 2 - What Was Inside the Bag
Zo did not touch the containers.
That mattered to Tessa more than he knew.
Men with power had spent most of her life touching whatever they wanted—paychecks, schedules, rent deposits, family decisions—because people without power were expected to accept it. Zo Rossi had the reputation of a man who could take anything. Yet he stood two feet from the open bag and waited.
“Who are Mia and Lucas?” he asked again.
Tessa swallowed.
“My sister and brother.”
“How old?”
“Mia is nine. Lucas is seven.”
Zo’s eyes returned to the food. “And you take this to them every night?”
“Yes.”
“From my kitchen.”
Her chin lifted. “From the staff meal I’m entitled to. Carmine lets me pack my portion before service. Sometimes there are leftovers he says would be thrown away. I don’t steal from the family dining room.”
“Why don’t you eat any of it?”
She stared at him as if the answer were humiliating.
“Because they need it more.”
The sentence landed harder than accusation.
Zo had grown up in a house where food arrived on silver trays whether anyone wanted it or not. He had watched men argue over vineyards while throwing away meals that could feed families for a week. The thought of a woman working twelve hours in his house and giving her dinner to children she was raising in secret made something ugly twist inside him.
“Where are their parents?”
“Our mother died last year.”
“And your father?”
Tessa looked away.
“Gone.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Zo almost pushed. Interrogation was instinct. But Tessa swayed slightly, catching herself on the bench.
He reached out without thinking.
She recoiled.
The movement stopped him cold.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know what people say about you.”
“So do I.”
That silenced both of them.
Zo stepped back.
“When did you last eat?”
“I ate.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“What?”
“Coffee.”
“That is not food.”
“It works.”
“No. It keeps you conscious.”
She zipped the bag, embarrassed now that the danger of discovery had passed.
“I need to go. The kids are waiting.”
Zo glanced toward the sleet hammering the door.
“How do you get home?”
“Bus.”
“In that?”
“The bus runs in weather.”
“You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’ve looked worse.”
“Congratulations.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Mr. Rossi, I answered your question. I’m not stealing secrets. I’m not taking your money. I’m going home.”
She reached for the door.
Zo blocked it—not with his body, but with his voice.
“Gabe.”
The service door behind him opened almost immediately. Tessa flinched when the large man appeared.
“Get the SUV.”
“No.”
Both men looked at her.
“I’m not getting into a car with your people.”
Zo frowned. “Why?”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“You work in my house.”
“I clean your house. That is not the same thing.”
Gabe coughed into his fist, clearly hiding a reaction.
Zo stared at Tessa.
Almost everyone he met became more agreeable when he entered a room. Tessa, exhausted enough to collapse, had just told the most feared man in Chicago that his employment contract did not equal trust.
Strangely, he respected her for it.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll drive.”
Her expression suggested this was worse.
“I said I can take the bus.”
“And I said you look sick.”
“My siblings are alone.”
“Then stop wasting time arguing.”
“I am not—”
Her knees buckled.
Zo caught her before she hit the concrete.
For one second Tessa fought him on instinct. Then her body went slack against his chest.
Gabe’s humor vanished.
“Boss.”
“I know.”
Zo lifted her.
She weighed almost nothing.
Her forehead was burning.
“Call Dr. Bellini,” Zo said. “Tell him to meet us at the address in her file.”
Tessa stirred.
“No hospital.”
“No one said hospital.”
“No social workers.”
Zo looked down at her.
“Why would there be social workers?”
Her eyes opened, unfocused.
“Because if they think I can’t take care of them, they’ll split us up.”
That fear explained more than the bag.
Zo looked at Gabe.
“Get the car.”
This time Tessa did not argue.
Twenty-five minutes later, the SUV turned onto a block on Chicago’s southwest side where half the streetlights were dead. Tessa had recovered enough to sit upright, though she remained wrapped in one of Zo’s coats. She directed them toward a brick apartment building with plywood over one basement window.
“This is where you live?”
“It’s what I can afford.”
Gabe glanced at the building and then at Zo.
Zo’s jaw tightened.
The staffing agency responsible for Tessa had invoiced the Rossi estate for wages significantly higher than what a person living here should have been taking home. He filed the thought away.
Tessa climbed the stairs before either man could help.
She unlocked apartment 3C.
“Mia? Lucas?”
Small footsteps rushed from a back room.
A girl with tangled black hair appeared first, holding a baseball bat far too large for her. A smaller boy followed with a kitchen knife gripped in both hands.
Zo stopped at the threshold.
Tessa’s face crumpled.
“Put those down.”
The children stared at the two strange men behind her.
Mia raised the bat higher.
“Who are they?”
“My boss.”
Lucas’s eyes widened.
“The mafia one?”
Gabe turned away to hide a laugh.
Zo did not.
Tessa closed her eyes.
“Lucas.”
“What? You said he was.”
Zo stepped inside slowly and crouched so he was not towering over them.
“I’m Zo.”
Lucas squinted. “That’s a weird name.”
“It’s short for Zoren.”
“That’s worse.”
This time even Tessa laughed—a weak, exhausted sound that changed her whole face.
Zo felt something inside him move.
He had come expecting danger.
Instead, he found peeling paint, two frightened children, a space heater held together with tape, and a kitchen table covered in schoolbooks.
Then he saw the refrigerator.
Three overdue notices were held beneath a magnet shaped like a pizza slice.
One was from the electric company.
One from the landlord.
The third was from a pediatric cardiology clinic.
Zo’s gaze sharpened.
“Who has a heart condition?”
Tessa’s laughter disappeared.
Mia slowly lowered the bat.
Lucas looked at the floor.
Tessa set the bag of food on the table.
“My brother.”
Zo looked at the seven-year-old boy.
May you like
Lucas gave him a brave smile that was missing one front tooth.
And in that moment, the mystery of the canvas bag became something much larger than hunger.
