THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID” IN FRONT OF THIRTY GUESTS—BECAUSE I HAD JUST PULLED HIS CHAIR AWAY BEFORE HE COULD SIT DOWN.

At 8:47 p.m., Luca Moretti was about to take his seat at the head of his engagement dinner when I grabbed the back of his chair and dragged it away from the table.

“Are you out of your mind?”

His fiancée’s voice cut across the dining room.

I stood there with both hands gripping the chair, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe.

Vanessa Bellini looked magnificent in her red silk gown.

She also looked ready to have me thrown out of the house.

“Put that chair back, Grace.”

I didn’t move.

Because beneath the velvet seat, hidden where nobody would think to look, was something that had absolutely no business being there.

And twenty minutes earlier, I had watched Vanessa put it there.

My name is Grace Parker.

I was twenty-nine, worked as a housekeeper at Luca Moretti’s Chicago mansion, and had spent the past eight months learning one important rule.

Never interrupt Mr. Moretti when he had guests.

Especially not tonight.

Thirty people sat beneath enormous crystal chandeliers, surrounded by white roses, candlelight, and enough expensive jewelry to pay off my mother’s mortgage.

Luca stood beside me in his black suit, one hand resting on the edge of the table.

He looked at the chair.

Then at me.

“Grace?”

Before I could answer, Vanessa stepped between us.

“I am so sorry, darling. Apparently, our housekeeper has forgotten how furniture works.”

A few guests chuckled.

My face burned.

“Mrs. Bellini, please—”

“Don't you dare.”

She pointed toward the service entrance.

“You can collect your things after dinner.”

I felt my stomach drop.

I needed this job.

My mother had spent twenty-two years running a small alterations shop before the building was sold and her lease doubled. I had promised her she wouldn't lose the house she and my father had worked their entire lives to keep.

Losing my paycheck wasn't an option.

But neither was pretending I hadn't seen what Vanessa had done.

Luca hadn't taken his eyes off me.

“Why did you move my chair?”

I swallowed.

“Because that's not your chair, sir.”

Vanessa gave an incredulous laugh.

“For heaven's sake. I had the chairs rearranged for our engagement photographs.”

I shook my head.

“That's not what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared.

“Grace. Leave. Now.”

Luca lifted one hand.

“Let her finish.”

And just like that, Vanessa stopped talking.

Twenty minutes earlier, I had been preparing the dining room when Vanessa entered through the side door.

She carried one of the upholstered chairs from the adjoining sitting room.

“Replace Luca's chair with this one,” she instructed.

I thought it was an unusual request.

Luca had used the same high-backed leather chair at the head of his dining table for years.

But I wasn't paid to question the furniture.

I made the switch.

Vanessa waited until I had finished.

Then she sent me to the kitchen for fresh candles.

When I returned, she was crouching beside Luca's new chair.

Her hand disappeared beneath the seat.

She stood the moment she noticed me.

“There's a loose thread,” she said.

I believed her.

Until I noticed the small black object concealed beneath the upholstery.

It had a tiny green light.

And I recognized it immediately.

Before becoming a housekeeper, I had worked evenings setting up conference rooms at a downtown hotel.

Microphones.

Wireless receivers.

Recording equipment.

I had handled hundreds of them.

But I had never seen one hidden beneath a dining chair.

I explained everything to Luca.

Vanessa stared at me.

“She's lying.”

Luca glanced at the chair.

“Turn it around, Grace.”

My hands trembled as I tilted it forward.

There, fastened beneath the velvet cushion, was a small black transmitter.

A tiny green light blinked twice.

Someone near the far end of the table whispered something.

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Oh, please. It's security equipment.”

Luca's expression didn't change.

“My security equipment?”

“Of course. I had it installed for tonight.”

“By whom?”

She hesitated.

“The people handling the event.”

Luca reached beneath the chair and carefully detached the device.

He examined it for several seconds.

Then he looked toward the two men standing beside the dining room doors.

“Who cleared this room?”

One of them stepped forward.

“We did, sir. At six o'clock.”

“Was this here?”

“No, sir.”

Vanessa's fingers tightened around her champagne glass.

“Luca, you're seriously going to interrogate me because a housekeeper found a microphone?”

He looked at her.

“I'm asking who installed it.”

“For your protection!”

“Then why didn't my security team know about it?”

For the first time that evening, Vanessa had nothing to say.

I thought that was the end of it.

Until Luca examined the underside of the transmitter.

His jaw tightened.

“Grace. When you first saw this device, was the light blinking?”

“No, sir.”

“And when did it start?”

I remembered the moment perfectly.

“Just before dinner. When Miss Bellini came back into the room.”

Vanessa set down her glass.

“This is ridiculous.”

But Luca was no longer listening.

He was looking at the transmitter's small display.

And whatever he saw there made him slowly rise to his full height.

“Vanessa.”

His voice was almost gentle.

“Why is this device transmitting to an outside receiver?”

Her face drained of color.

“Luca, I can explain.”

He placed the transmitter in the center of the table.

“Good.”

Then he turned toward his security men.

“Close the doors.”

I thought he was going to demand an explanation about the microphone.

Instead, he looked directly at Vanessa and asked a question that made her grip the back of her chair.

“Who knew I was holding a private meeting in this room after dinner?”

She opened her mouth.

But before she could answer, the little green light on the transmitter suddenly turned red.

And a man's unfamiliar voice came through its tiny speaker.

“Vanessa, don't say another word. He knows.”"