Chapter 6 - BREAKFAST AT SUNRISE
The morning sun broke over Lake Michigan in a brilliant explosion of gold, crimson, and violet, casting long shadows across the breakfast table in my mother’s cozy apartment kitchen.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee, scrambled eggs, and toasted brioche filled the small room.
My mother, looking ten years younger and entirely recovered from the pale exhaustion of the past three days, was laughing as Nico helped her pour cream into her coffee cup.
"Nico, dear, you didn't have to bring croissants all the way from the Gold Coast," my mother beamed, patting his large, tattooed hand affectionately. "A simple slice of toast would have made me happy."
"Nothing is too simple for the mother of the bravest woman in Chicago, Mrs. Morgan," Nico replied smoothly, flashing a charming smile that made my mother blush like a schoolgirl.
I sat across the table, taking a sip of my coffee, unable to suppress a grin. Who would have guessed that the most feared syndicate leader in the Midwest would spend his Friday morning buttering toast for a retired schoolteacher?
"Well, I still say you young people work too hard," my mother declared, wiping her hands on a floral dish towel. "Rachel tells me you run a massive foundation, Nico. And my daughter has been working herself to the bone cleaning houses just to help me pay for medical bills."
Nico’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. His dark eyes flicked across the table to meet mine.
"Actually, Mrs. Morgan," Nico said, his voice dropping into a respectful, serious tone. "That’s something we need to talk about."
I set my coffee mug down. "Nico..."
"No, Rachel, let me," he interrupted gently. He turned back to my mother. "Your daughter is far too talented, intelligent, and fiercely loyal to spend another day folding laundry and scrubbing marble floors in my mansion—unless, of course, she wants to."
My mother blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Nico said, sliding a thick cream envelope across the table, "the De Luca Foundation's community outreach program is opening three new education centers on the South Side next month. We need a director of operations—someone who understands the neighborhood, who has integrity, and who isn't afraid to stand up to anyone to protect families."
I stared at the envelope. Inside was a formal employment contract for the foundation's director position, complete with a salary that would clear all our remaining debts within six months.
"Nico, I... I can't accept this," I stammered, my heart racing. "I didn't help Mrs. Bennett for a job. I did it because it was right."
"I know you didn't," Nico said quietly, leaning forward, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made the small kitchen feel electric. "I'm not offering you charity, Rachel. I'm offering you an opportunity. Because for the first time in ten years, I actually need someone by my side who isn't trying to steal my empire or lie to my face."
My mother looked between the two of us, a knowing, approving smile spreading across her face. "Well, Rachel? It sounds like a wonderful opportunity. And it’s about time someone brought some sunshine into Mr. De Luca’s very large, very lonely house."
I felt my cheeks burn bright red.
Nico chuckled, a warm, rich sound. "She's right, Rachel. The house is entirely too big for just me and my security team."
Before I could formulate a reply, my phone on the kitchen counter rang loudly.
I picked it up. The caller ID read: UNKNOWN NUMBER.
I swiped to answer. "Hello?"
"Rachel Morgan?" a harsh, strained voice snapped through the speaker. It wasn't a telemarketer. It was a woman’s voice—shrill, desperate, and dripping with venom.
May you like
"Yes? Who is this?"
"Tell your little mob boss friend that he hasn't won," Sloane Mercer hissed through the line. "My uncle on the federal commission is already drafting the indictments for the foundation's audit. By Monday morning, Nico De Luca won't have an empire left to protect."
