“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
There’s no pretending I can pay this. I simply can’t. Not now or ever. What the hell? I figured they’d ask for co-pay, sure—but for us to have to field the whole thing?
Non-essential. Non-emergent. Out-of-network specialized cardiac intervention.
I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as shit wasn’t this.
I feel the panic spike hard and fast. I can’t breathe in here. It’s too hot. Too loud. Too much. Suddenly, my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.
I step back from the stove. “Taking my two minutes,” I call.
Gerard doesn’t even look up. “Make it quick.”
I push through the back door.
The alley is cold enough that it steals the heat from my cheeks, but it doesn’t stop the tears. I sit on the overturned milk crate, shoulders curled in, breathing hard. It’s the first quiet moment I’ve had all night, and of course it hits me all at once.
The bills. Mom’s surgery. Gerard’s hand on my ass. The stupid plate of gnocchi that somehow feels like the last straw.
I wipe my face, but the tears just keep coming. I try to swallow them back, try to steady myself, but all I manage is a shaky breath that makes my chest hurt.
My heart’s still racing with worries when I hear footsteps behind me.
I look up fast, ready to tell whoever it is to give me one minute, but I freeze when I see him.
Riccardo Romano stands a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat like he belongs in this alley more than I do. The light hits the edge of his jaw, sharp and unbothered. He doesn’t look confused or uncomfortable. He just looks at me, steady and sure, like he already knows exactly why I’m here.
He holds out a handkerchief. Neat, white, perfectly folded.
“Here,” he says quietly.
His voice surprises me. It’s deeper up close, calmer than it has any right to be.
I stare for a second before taking it. Our fingers brush, and something warm flickers under my skin. I press the cloth to myface, embarrassed that someone like him—someone important, maybe dangerous too—is seeing me like this.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean to… fall apart out here.”
“You’re allowed,” he says. “Everyone reaches a limit.”
The kindness in that sentence hits harder than I expect. I shake my head, trying to get it together. “It’s nothing. Just a long night.”
He doesn’t move closer, but he doesn’t leave either. There’s something unsettling about the way he stands there, completely focused on me without demanding anything.
“I heard your chef shouting earlier. He seems,” he pauses mid sentence to glance at me. “he seems difficult.”
That’s one word for it. But I don’t want to explain. Not to him. If the rumors are true, he could have Gerard’s car on a tow truck in under two minutes if he felt like it.
“He’s my boss.” My voice comes out in a whisper. “We’re all under pressure tonight.”
“Pressure doesn’t excuse everything,” Riccardo insists. “Some men forget that.”
Something in his tone makes my pulse jump. Not fear. Not exactly. Just awareness. Strong awareness.
I tuck the handkerchief into my lap, tracing the edge with my thumb. “It’s fine. Really. I just needed a moment.”
He watches me for a long beat. Too long. “If he’s a problem, I can fix that.”
I can fix that.The words ring in my head, making my breath snag. There and then, I conclude that the rumors are true.
