Chapter 1 - The Maid Who Was Forced to Kneel
The night my ex-boyfriend poured red wine at my feet and ordered me to clean it, he thought he was humiliating a poor housemaid.
He didn't know the most feared man in New York had been watching us for twenty minutes.
And he certainly didn't expect that man to walk across the ballroom, look directly at me, and announce something that would turn my entire life upside down.
"Get up, Alice. My future wife doesn't clean up after men like him."
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
My name is Alice Hayes.
I was twenty-eight years old, working two jobs, and barely keeping the lights on in a one-bedroom apartment in Queens.
Three years earlier, my mother had died.
Two years earlier, my boyfriend had left me.
And somewhere between those two disasters, I had learned that being poor wasn't nearly as humiliating as having wealthy people constantly remind you of it.
That Friday evening, I was working a private banquet at the Belvedere Club, an exclusive Manhattan establishment where a single bottle of champagne sometimes cost more than my monthly rent.
I wore a faded pink service dress beneath a white apron.
My feet ached.
My fingers were cracked from cleaning chemicals.
And I had precisely forty-three dollars in my checking account.
"Table seven needs another bottle of Cabernet," my manager, Hector, snapped.
"Yes, sir."
"And try to smile. These people pay for an experience."
I glanced at him.
"I've been smiling for six hours."
"Then make it seven."
I picked up the bottle.
As I crossed the enormous ballroom, I noticed two imposing men standing near the entrance.
Black suits.
Earpieces.
Hands folded in front of them.
They weren't regular security guards.
I knew that much.
Behind them stood a tall man in a charcoal-gray three-piece suit.
His dark hair was brushed back, and a neatly trimmed beard framed a face that looked as though it had forgotten how to smile.
He was speaking quietly to another businessman.
The businessman appeared terrified.
I recognized him from the newspapers.
Gabriel Costa.
Thirty-eight years old.
Owner of Costa Holdings, several shipping terminals, luxury hotels, and the Belvedere Club itself.
People also whispered that his family controlled some of the city's most dangerous criminal operations.
I didn't know how much of that was true.
Frankly, I didn't care.
A billionaire's problems didn't pay my electricity bill.
I turned toward table seven.
And then I heard a voice that made my stomach tighten.
"Well, would you look at that."
I stopped walking.
I knew that voice.
Preston Reed.
My ex-boyfriend.
The man who had promised to marry me and then disappeared after emptying our joint savings account.
He stood beside a table of wealthy businessmen, wearing a perfectly tailored navy suit.
A beautiful blonde woman in a champagne-colored evening gown clung to his arm.
He looked delighted to see me.
I felt sick.
"Alice Hayes," he announced loudly. "Still carrying drinks?"
Several people turned.
I forced a professional smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Reed."
His expression sharpened.
"Mr. Reed?"
I didn't answer.
He laughed.
"Come on, sweetheart. We used to share a bed."
The blonde woman looked me up and down.
"This is your ex?"
Preston nodded.
"Unfortunately."
She laughed.
My face burned.
I tried to step around him.
"Excuse me. I need to serve my table."
Preston blocked my path.
"Not so fast."
He pointed toward my apron.
"I told you this would happen, Alice. You never had ambition."
I gripped the wine bottle.
"Please move."
He smiled.
"Still giving orders?"
His friends chuckled.
One of them raised his phone.
My heart sank.
He was recording.
Preston looked pleased.
He had always loved having an audience.
When we lived together, he'd humiliated me privately.
Now he had found a room full of people willing to watch.
"You know what?" he said. "I think I'll have a little demonstration."
He took a full glass of red wine from the table.
I watched him lift it.
"Preston, don't."
He tipped the glass.
Dark red wine spilled across the cream-colored Persian carpet.
A few drops splashed against my shoes.
The blonde woman gasped.
Then Preston pointed toward the stain.
"Oops."
He smiled.
"Better clean that up."
I stared at him.
"You spilled it."
His smile vanished.
"Excuse me?"
"You spilled the wine."
He leaned closer.
"You're a maid, Alice. Cleaning is literally your job."
I heard laughter.
Then Hector appeared.
"What happened?"
Preston pointed at me.
"Your employee made a mess."
"That's not true," I said.
Hector looked at Preston.
Then at the expensive carpet.
Then back at me.
His decision was immediate.
"Clean it."
I swallowed.
"Sir, he deliberately—"
"Now, Alice."
Preston crossed his arms.
I looked around the room.
Nobody helped.
A woman in a diamond necklace turned away.
A businessman chuckled into his champagne.
My eyes filled.
I needed this job.
My landlord had given me until Monday to pay the rent.
So I set down my tray.
Picked up a white cloth.
And slowly lowered myself onto the carpet.
My knees hurt against the hardwood beneath the rug.
I pressed the cloth into the wine.
Preston leaned forward.
"That's better."
He pointed toward another patch.
"You missed a spot."
I bit my lip.
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
I hated myself for crying.
Then a deep male voice interrupted.
"Interesting."
The ballroom grew quiet.
I looked up.
Gabriel Costa was standing behind Preston.
His expression was unreadable.
Preston immediately straightened.
"Mr. Costa!"
Gabriel ignored him.
He looked at the wine.
Then at me.
"Who told you to kneel?"
I tried to answer.
Preston spoke first.
"Just a little misunderstanding, sir. Your maid spilled some wine."
Gabriel slowly turned toward him.
"I watched you pour it."
Preston went pale.
Gabriel looked toward Hector.
"And you ordered her to clean it?"
Hector swallowed.
"Sir, I was only trying—"
"Stop talking."
The entire room fell silent.
Gabriel stepped closer to me.
He extended his hand.
"Stand up."
I hesitated.
"Sir, I need this job."
His expression changed.
Something dark moved behind his eyes.
He looked toward Preston.
"She won't be losing anything tonight."
Then he helped me stand.
His hand was warm.
Steady.
Careful.
He didn't release it immediately.
Preston forced a nervous laugh.
"Mr. Costa, surely you're not making a scene over a waitress."
Gabriel looked at him.
"No."
He turned toward me.
Then he said the words that stopped every conversation in the ballroom.
"I'm making a scene over the woman I intend to marry."
My breath caught.
Preston's mouth fell open.
The blonde woman released his arm.
I stared at Gabriel.
"Excuse me?"
He leaned closer and spoke quietly enough that only I could hear.
"Play along for thirty seconds. Please."
I looked into his eyes.
I didn't understand.
But for the first time that evening, Preston looked frightened.
And I desperately wanted to know why.
Gabriel turned back toward the room.
"Now, Preston."
His voice was dangerously calm.
"Would you like to explain why you just made my future wife kneel?"
Preston stumbled backward.
And that was when I realized something.
May you like
Gabriel Costa hadn't simply recognized Preston.
He had been waiting for him.
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