The Mafia Boss Asked His Waitress Who Made Her Cry—Her Answer Destroyed a Senator

The private office door opened two minutes later.

Victor Costello walked in, wearing a charcoal three-piece suit, looking as though he had stepped out of the pages of a high-end fashion magazine.

He didn't sit down. He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the river before turning back to face her.

"How is the office treating you?" Victor asked, his gray eyes assessing her appearance with quiet approval.

"It's... overwhelming," Chloe admitted, stepping out from behind her massive desk. "I keep waiting for someone to walk in and tell me there's been a mistake."

"There are no mistakes in my company, Chloe," Victor said smoothly. "I chose you for this position because you know what it's like to watch someone suffer under a broken system. A bureaucrat with a Harvard degree can manage budgets, but it takes someone with a conscience to fix the damage."

"Thank you, Mr. Costello," she whispered, stepping a little closer. "For everything. For Liam, for the apartment, for this job. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"You don't owe me a debt," Victor said, his tone softening just a fraction. "You earned your place here the night you didn't break under Caldwell’s pressure."

He checked his gold watch. "I have a board meeting in three minutes. But tonight... if you're free... Gabriel will pick you up at seven. There’s a restaurant in the North End I’d like to take you to."

Chloe’s breath hitched. "Is this... is this a date, Mr. Costello?"

A rare, genuine smile touched the corners of Victor’s mouth.