Chapter 3 - The Offer at Table SevenWhen Tessa approached the booth the second time, the atmosphere at the table had completely shifted.
Luca Vieri was no longer speaking about shipping manifests. He sat rigidly upright, his hand resting near his coat pocket where the outline of a firearm pressed against the wool. Matteo Moretti was leaning forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth, staring at her with an intensity that could have melted glass.
Tessa placed the heavy ceramic plate down with practiced precision.
"Your ribeye, Mr. Moretti. Cooked medium-rare, exactly as requested."
Matteo didn't look at the steak. He looked up at her face, tracing the tired lines around her eyes, the proud tilt of her chin, and the way her shoulders remained straight despite the crushing weight of the day.
"You didn't use the polite form," Matteo said softly in English, his voice surprisingly deep and melodic. "You addressed me in the second-person singular. Tu instead of Lei."
"Grammar is one thing, Mr. Moretti," Tessa replied, stepping back and resting her weight on her heels—carefully avoiding the foot with the torn sneaker. "Respect is another. Respect must be earned, not grammatically enforced."
Luca let out a sharp intake of breath. "Watch your mouth, girl—"
Matteo raised a hand, cutting Luca off without breaking eye contact with Tessa.
"Sit down," Matteo said.
"I am working," Tessa said.
"I am tipping," Matteo countered, reaching into his inner jacket pocket and pulling out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills wrapped in a gold band. He tossed them onto the table. They landed with a soft, heavy thud right beside his wineglass. "Sit down. We are going to talk about your grammar."
Across the dining room, several diners had begun to notice. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the room like wind through dry grass. David was practically chewing his own fingers off near the hostess stand.
Tessa looked at the cash.
Five hundred dollars.
More than enough for the rent. More than enough for a new pair of shoes. More than enough to keep the electricity turned on for another month.
May you like
She pulled out the leather bench opposite them and slid in, her movements entirely unhurried.
"Alright, Mr. Moretti," Tessa said, resting her hands on the edge of the table. "Let's talk about your Italian."
