Chapter 1 - She Called Me Too Fat for Adrian Morello—So I Put a Cream Pie in Her Face in Front of Chicago’s Most Feared Family“You’re not exactly the kind of woman people expected him to choose.”
Emily Carter went very still.
Across the Morello Foundation ballroom, crystal chandeliers glittered over politicians, donors, businessmen—and enough members of Chicago’s most feared family to make most people watch every word they said.
Vanessa Hale apparently wasn’t most people.
Her gaze moved deliberately over Emily’s soft stomach, full hips, and bare arms.
“Some women simply look more appropriate beside men like Adrian.”
Emily understood exactly what she meant.
She had been understanding sentences like that since she was a teenager.
Too big.
Too visible.
Fine for private affection, apparently, but not the kind of woman a powerful man should proudly stand beside.
Her ex-boyfriend Nathan had taught her that lesson especially well.
For two years, he had loved Emily’s baking, her apartment, her warmth, even sleeping beside her.
Then at a company Christmas party, someone asked whether Emily was his girlfriend.
Nathan laughed.
“Just a friend.”
Emily moved out three days later.
She had spent the years since learning that nobody got to make her feel grateful for being tolerated.
Which was why she had been suspicious from the moment Adrian Morello began appearing at Rose & Rye.
He was dangerous, wealthy, controlled, and connected to a family whose name made Chicago politicians lower their voices.
He was also strangely patient with her.
He carried cupcake boxes when her delivery van died.
He listened when she corrected him.
He asked instead of ordering more often than a man like Adrian probably had in his entire life.
And his eighty-year-old grandfather, Frank, had become so fond of Emily that he had apparently decided she belonged in Adrian’s life before either of them agreed.
That was how Emily ended up at this family dinner in a burgundy dress while Adrian’s former fiancée studied her like an embarrassing substitution.
Emily set down the lemon tart she had been arranging.
“Say exactly what you mean.”
Vanessa’s smile sharpened.
“You asked.”
“No. I asked you to stop hiding behind polite words.”
Frank lowered his coffee cup.
“Vanessa.”
She ignored him.
“Adrian’s life involves photographs. Donors. Business dinners. People notice presentation.”
Emily’s heartbeat slowed.
There it was.
Not quite said.
Still obvious.
She glanced toward the cream pie sitting on the dessert table.
Then back at Vanessa.
“Call me fat again and the next pie goes lower.”
For one stunned second, Vanessa actually looked speechless.
Then she laughed.
“If the description fits.”
Emily picked up the pie.
And planted it directly into Vanessa Hale’s face.
The wet slap silenced the entire ballroom.
Whipped cream covered Vanessa’s hair, cheeks, shoulders, and diamond earrings.
Someone gasped.
Frank choked on his coffee.
Vanessa stood frozen.
Then she screamed.
“You assaulted me!”
Two Morello security men immediately moved toward Emily.
She did not step back.
Across the ballroom, Adrian Morello turned.
His gaze landed first on Vanessa.
Then on the pie.
Then on Emily.
And the look on his face made every person nearby stop talking.
He lifted one hand.
The security men froze.
Adrian crossed the ballroom.
Emily had seen him angry before.
Once, when a supplier had tried to overcharge Rose & Rye.
Once, when someone had broken into Frank’s car.
Once, when a drunk customer had grabbed Emily’s waist while she was carrying a tray.
Adrian’s anger was never loud.
It became quieter as it became more dangerous.
Vanessa wiped cream from her eyes.
“Adrian! Thank God. Have her removed.”
Adrian stopped beside Emily.
“Why?”
Vanessa stared.
“She attacked me.”
Emily folded her arms.
“She insulted me.”
“You threw a pie at her.”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked at the remains of the pie.
“What flavor?”
Vanessa made an outraged sound.
Emily blinked.
“Coconut cream.”
Adrian nodded thoughtfully.
“Good choice.”
Frank made a choking sound that might have been laughter.
Vanessa stared at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
Adrian turned to Emily.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Did she touch you?”
“No.”
“Threaten you?”
“Only my relationship with modern beauty standards.”
His mouth twitched.
“Dangerous territory.”
“Apparently.”
Vanessa’s face reddened beneath whipped cream.
“You’re making a joke out of this?”
Adrian finally looked at her.
“No.”
Whatever humor had touched his expression vanished.
“I’m trying to understand why you thought humiliating Emily in my grandfather’s home was acceptable.”
“This is not about humiliation. It’s about reality.”
“What reality?”
Vanessa gestured toward Emily.
“That.”
Emily almost reached for another pie.
Adrian saw.
He quietly moved the chocolate tart farther away.
“Coward,” Emily muttered.
“I’m protecting dessert.”
Then Vanessa said the sentence that changed the room.
“You’re the Morello heir. You cannot seriously intend to put a woman like her beside you.”
Adrian became still.
Every Morello relative within earshot stopped pretending not to listen.
Frank slowly put down his cup.
Adrian asked:
“A woman like her?”
Vanessa knew she had gone too far.
But pride carried her forward.
“She owns a bakery.”
“A successful one.”
“She has no political connections.”
“She hates politicians.”
Emily nodded.
“Mostly.”
Vanessa continued.
“She doesn’t understand your world.”
“Neither did you when we met.”
“I learned.”
“No. You learned to enjoy the privileges.”
That landed.
Vanessa’s voice sharpened.
“At least I looked appropriate while doing it.”
Adrian stared at her.
Then he did something Emily did not expect.
He stepped beside Emily.
Not in front of her.
Beside.
“I want everyone in this room to hear me.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“Adrian.”
He glanced at her.
She knew that expression.
He was about to do something dramatic.
“I swear to God, if you announce an engagement without asking me first, I will use the chocolate tart.”
A few people laughed nervously.
Adrian’s mouth twitched.
“Noted.”
Then he faced the room.
“Emily Carter is here because I invited her.”
Silence.
“She does not need to look like anyone’s expectation.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
Adrian continued.
“She does not need a Morello surname to deserve respect.”
Frank smiled.
“And she certainly does not need to become smaller so that insecure people can feel larger beside her.”
Emily looked at him.
That one hit differently.
Adrian’s gaze returned to Vanessa.
“If anyone in this family believes Emily’s body, profession, income, background, or lack of interest in impressing you makes her unsuitable to stand beside me, then the problem is not Emily.”
He paused.
“It’s this family.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You’re claiming her?”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“No.”
Emily exhaled.
“I don’t claim women.”
He looked at Emily.
“They choose whether they want me.”
That mattered.
More than she wanted it to.
Then he added:
“But if Emily chooses to stand beside me, anyone who humiliates her answers to me.”
Vanessa wiped cream from her cheek.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Usually.”
“You’re throwing away everything your father arranged.”
Frank’s face changed.
Adrian noticed.
“What did you say?”
Vanessa hesitated.
Emily saw it.
So did Frank.
Adrian stepped closer.
“What did my father arrange?”
“Nothing.”
“Vanessa.”
She looked toward exit.
One security man moved automatically.
Adrian stopped him.
“No. She can leave.”
Vanessa stared at him.
“You’ll regret choosing her.”
Emily finally spoke.
“He hasn’t chosen me.”
Vanessa looked.
Emily smiled.
“I haven’t decided whether I want him yet.”
Frank laughed loudly.
Adrian put hand over heart.
“Brutal.”
Emily ignored him.
Vanessa’s eyes filled with something stranger than jealousy.
Fear.
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?” Emily asked.
Vanessa looked at Rose & Rye logo embroidered on Emily’s catering apron lying over chair.
Then at Frank.
Frank went pale.
That frightened Emily more than anything else.
“What?” she demanded.
Frank whispered:
“Vanessa.”
“Ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
Vanessa smiled.
“Ask Frank why the Morello family owns the land under your bakery.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“What?”
Adrian turned sharply toward grandfather.
Frank closed eyes.
Emily’s bakery occupied a narrow brick storefront in Lincoln Square.
Her mother had opened it thirty-one years earlier.
After cancer took her, Emily inherited business.
The building belonged to a small property trust.
Emily paid rent.
She had never investigated beyond that.
“Frank?”
The old man looked suddenly older.
“Emily, I can explain.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Please tell me she’s lying.”
“She isn’t.”
Adrian stared at grandfather.
“You own Rose & Rye?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then exactly what?”
Frank rubbed face.
“The trust that owns the building is controlled by Morello Holdings.”
Emily felt humiliated all over again.
“How long?”
“Twenty-eight years.”
“My mother knew?”
Silence.
“Frank.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Before he answered, ballroom lights went out.
Darkness.
A woman screamed.
Glass shattered.
Adrian grabbed Emily’s hand.
“Down.”
Gunshot cracked.
People dropped.
Another shot.
Security shouted.
Emergency lights flashed red.
Adrian pulled Emily behind stone bar.
“Stay here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Emily.”
“I’m not staying while you—”
A bullet hit pillar.
Fine.
She stayed.
Adrian drew weapon.
That was first time she had ever seen him with gun.
The charming man carrying cupcake boxes disappeared.
Something colder took his place.
Within seconds security secured ballroom.
Shooter escaped through service entrance.
One man wounded.
No deaths.
Emily stood.
Her hands shook.
Adrian immediately holstered weapon before approaching.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He checked without touching.
“Emily.”
“I said no.”
She looked toward Frank.
Old man alive.
Vanessa gone.
“Where is Vanessa?”
Security searched.
Nothing.
Then Emily’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Photograph.
Rose & Rye.
Taken ten minutes earlier.
Smoke poured from upstairs windows.
Emily screamed.
“My bakery.”
She ran.
Adrian caught up.
Not stopped.
Ran with her.
By time they reached Rose & Rye, firefighters had contained flames.
Kitchen damaged.
Office destroyed.
Her mother’s recipe books.
Emily pushed toward door.
Firefighter stopped.
“You can't go inside.”
“My mother's things are in there!”
Adrian stood beside her.
For once he did not try solve.
Didn't promise money.
Didn't say replace.
He simply stayed.
Emily cried.
At 2:14 a.m., investigator found accelerant.
Arson.
At 2:31, police found something else.
Inside Emily's office safe, beneath burned financial records, a metal box she had never seen.
It survived.
Inside:
A photograph of Emily's mother, Margaret Carter.
Frank Morello.
And Adrian's father, Lorenzo.
Twenty-nine years earlier.
On back, Margaret's handwriting:
If anything happens to me, Emily must never know what Lorenzo did. Frank promised.
Emily stared.
Adrian went still.
“My father?”
Frank sat in ambulance.
He looked at photograph.
Then began crying.
Emily had never seen Frank cry.
“What did Lorenzo do?”
Frank whispered:
“He killed your father.”
The world stopped.
Emily's father, David Carter, had supposedly died in construction accident when she was four.
Frank continued.
“And your mother spent rest of her life making sure Lorenzo never discovered what David left behind.”
“What did he leave?”
Frank looked toward burned bakery.
“A ledger.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“Where?”
Frank looked at Emily.
“Hidden somewhere inside Rose & Rye.”
Emily laughed once.
Broken.
“So Vanessa insulted me because she hates my dress size, my bakery is burned, your family owns my building, and now there’s mafia ledger hidden inside my mother's pastry shop?”
Adrian nodded slowly.
“When you summarize it like that, evening sounds bad.”
Emily stared.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
Because alternative was screaming.
Adrian smiled.
Frank did not.
“Emily.”
She looked.
“The ledger can destroy half the Morello organization.”
Silence.
“And whoever burned your bakery believes you know where it is.”
Emily looked at Adrian.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Would you destroy it if we found it?”
Adrian did not answer immediately.
That mattered.
Finally:
“No.”
“Even if it sends your family to prison?”
He looked toward Frank.
Then back.
“Yes.”
Emily studied him.
“Good.”
Adrian nodded.
“Does that mean you've chosen me?”
She almost smiled.
“No.”
“Worth trying.”
Then firefighter approached.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“We found something inside wall behind original bread oven.”
He held scorched tin box.
Emily recognized handwriting on lid.
Her mother's.
FOR EMILY ONLY.
Inside wasn't ledger.
It was a letter.
First sentence:
Emily, if you are reading this, then a Morello has finally told you the truth. Before you trust any of them, ask Adrian what his father made him do the night David died.
Emily looked up.
Adrian's face had lost all color.
He knew.
May you like
He had always known something.
And suddenly the man who had defended her in front of an entire ballroom looked more dangerous than Vanessa ever had.
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