The Moretti Clause

Chapter four

The lunch order for suite 1408 had been ready by twelve thirty exactly.

Imani had picked it up from the kitchen, checked everything twice the way Patricia had drilled into them, made sure the presentation was right, the covers were on, the trolley was straight and had started moving toward the elevator at twelve thirty-two two.

She was going to be on time. She was actually going to be on time.

The east corridor was quiet, most of the noise and events were happening on the other side of the hotel during lunch hours. She moved quickly, keeping the trolley steady, already mentally checking off the delivery so she could get back downstairs before Patricia had a reason to look in her direction.

That was when she heard it.

Small and hiccupy, the particular sound of a child who had been crying long enough that they were running out of energy for it. She slowed without deciding to. A little boy, maybe four years old, was sitting on the floor against the wall near one of the rooms, knees pulled up, face red, tears running steadily.

She stopped.

She looked both ways down the corridor. No parent. No staff. Nobody.

She crouched down in front of him. "Hey. What's wrong?"

He looked up at her with enormous wet eyes. "I can't find my mommy."

"Okay. That's okay." She kept her voice calm and even, the way she'd learned from years of babysitting scared kids. "What's your name?"

"Luca."

"Okay Luca. I'm Imani. I'm going to help you find your mom, alright?"

She looked at the trolley and made a decision. She left it against the wall, picked Luca up because he was too small to keep up with her pace and carried him to the reception desk downstairs. She handed him to one of the permanent staff, explained the situation clearly and waited just long enough to make sure someone was genuinely handling it and that Luca's face had gone from devastated to just uncertain before she went back upstairs.

She looked at her watch in the elevator.

Twelve fifty-four.

She retrieved the trolley, checked that everything was still in order and moved fast.

Suite 1408 was at the end of the fourteenth floor corridor. Two men in suits stood outside the door with the particular stillness of people who were paid to stand still. They looked at her, looked at the trolley and one of them knocked twice on the door and opened it for her.

She pushed the trolley in.

The suite was enormous. Floor to ceiling windows, the whole city laid out beyond them like it was included in the room rate. Dark furniture, everything deliberate, the kind of space that didn't need to try hard because it never had to.

The man was standing by the window with his back to her, phone to his ear, speaking in low, rapid Italian. She used the moment to set up the table the way she'd been trained, quiet and efficient, lifting the covers and checking the arrangement.

Then he ended the call and turned around.

She looked up and okay.

She wasn't expecting that.

He was tall, with dark hair, a sharp jaw, the kind of face that looked like it had been put together with a specific and unfair intention. The suit fits him the way suits fit people who have suits made for them rather than buying them, the posture, something that couldn't be learned. Instead, you were born with it.

"Are you done?"

His voice was flat. Not amused. Not annoyed. Just flat, like he was noting a fact.

She blinked. Straightened. "I was just finishing the setup, sir."

"You're late," he said, moving toward the table.

"I apologize for the wait, there was a situation…"

"Twenty four minutes," he said it the way someone reads a number off a page. No heat, just fact. "The order was scheduled for twelve thirty."

"Yes, I understand. I was on my way when I came across a child in the corridor. He was lost, about four years old, separated from his parents. I had to take him down to reception."

He pulled out the chair and sat down. "That is not your responsibility."

She kept her expression neutral. "He was four, and he was alone and crying."

"There is staff for situations like that."

"There was no staff there."

"Then you find staff." He unfolded his napkin with the same energy he said everything, completely unbothered. "Your responsibility was the delivery. A lost child in a hotel corridor is not your concern."

She looked at him.

"The food is here," she said, her voice very controlled now. "Is there anything else you need?"

"An acknowledgment that this won't happen again, he said, his Italian accent coming out."

"I can't promise that."

He raised an eyebrow. Just slightly. "I beg your pardon."

"If I'm walking somewhere and there's a child alone and scared, I'm going to stop. I'm not going to leave a four-year-old in a hotel corridor because I have a schedule to keep." She set the covered dishes on the table with more precision than was strictly necessary. "So no. I can't promise it won't happen again."

The room was very quiet.

He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't fully read. Not angry exactly. Something else.

"You work here," he said slowly, like he was explaining something. "You are here to provide a service. Not to make decisions about what warrants your time.”

He picked up his fork.

She took a breath so small it was almost nothing.

"You're absolutely right sir," she said. "I sincerely apologize. It won't happen again."

He glanced up at her. Just briefly. Something moved behind his eyes.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"No sir." Completely straight face. "I would never."

He held her gaze for one second. Two.

She held it right back.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked pleasantly.

"No," he said.

"Wonderful." She dipped her head slightly, just enough to qualify as a bow, turned around and walked to the door at a completely normal and professional pace.

She closed it behind her.

Josh was coming out of the service door at the end of the corridor when she came around the corner with the empty trolley and whatever was on her face made him stop walking immediately.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Fine." She kept moving.

He fell into step beside her. "You don't look fine. You look like you're thinking about committing a crime."

"I'm not thinking about anything."

"Imani."

"Josh."

He was quiet for a second. Then …"was it the guy in 1408?"

She glanced at him. "You know who's in 1408?"

"Everybody knows." He lowered his voice even though the corridor was empty. "That's the CEO. The actual Moretti. Alexi Moretti. Apparently he owns the whole thing, like the whole company, not just this hotel. Patricia nearly had a breakdown this morning making sure everything was perfect for him."

Imani pushed the button for the service elevator.

Alexi Moretti.

The name of the hotel. His name.

She thought about him standing there looking at her while she was explaining about Luca like she was reporting a minor issue.

“Oh I'm dead”

"What happened?" Josh asked.

"Nothing." The elevator opened. She pushed the trolley in. "He was just rude."

"Rude how."

" I helped a kid earlier, he was lost, and I took him to the lobby and I explained why I was late and he basically said it wasn't my problem and I should have left him there."

Josh stared at her. "About a four-year-old."

"A four-year-old named Luca who was sitting on the floor crying."

"Damn." He stepped into the elevator with her. "What did you say?"

"I apologized." She looked straight ahead at the elevator doors. "Very sincerely."

Josh looked at her sideways. "Why do I feel like that's not the whole story?"

The doors closed.

"I don't know Josh," she said. "I don't know what you mean by that."

She heard the other staff talking about him on her way out at the end of the shift. Two of the housekeeping girls near the staff room, voices low and giggly.

"Did you see him though…"

"I know, I nearly dropped the towels…"

"He's so …"

"Right? Like actually…"

Imani walked past them, clocked out, got her things and left.