THE ARRANGEMENT

CHAPTER TWO: THE ARRANGEMENT

Maya woke to the insistent buzzing of her phone and the kind of headache that suggested her brain was attempting to escape her skull. Groaning, she fumbled for the device, squinting at the screen: seven missed calls from Zoe, three from her mother, and one text from an unknown number:

Car waiting outside your building. Noon. Don't keep me waiting.

The events of the previous night came flooding back with nauseating clarity. The firing. The tequila. The dangerously attractive mob boss offering her a job.

"Oh god," Maya muttered, pressing her face into her pillow. "Please tell me I didn't flirt with a mafioso."

A pounding at her bedroom door made her wince.

"Maya! I know you're in there!" Zoe's voice, shrill with panic, pierced through the wood. "The landlord is threatening to change the locks, like, TODAY!"

With superhuman effort, Maya dragged herself upright and stumbled to the door. Zoe stood there in yoga pants and a crop top, her blonde hair piled in a messy bun, looking far too perky for someone facing imminent homelessness.

"Please tell me you have the rent money," Zoe said, twisting her rose quartz crystal necklace—a nervous habit she'd developed since becoming a "spiritual influencer" on I*******m, which generated plenty of likes but minimal income.

"I got fired yesterday," Maya said flatly.

"I know, I saw your I*******m stories." Zoe winced. "The one where you were singing 'Take This Job and Shove It' on the karaoke machine was... passionate."

Maya pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't have I*******m."

"Oh." Zoe had the decency to look embarrassed. "Then someone who looks exactly like you was having a really rough night at Kelly's Bar. Anyway, what are we going to do? My followers love my apartment tour videos!"

Maya glanced at her phone again, the text message from Luca Ricci glowing accusingly on the screen. It was 11:17 AM. "I might have a solution," she said slowly, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "But I need to shower first."

Forty minutes later, Maya stood on the curb outside her building, wearing the most professional outfit she could assemble on short notice—black pants, a navy blouse, and the blazer she'd kept tucked away since her last job interview. Her damp hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and she'd applied just enough makeup to hide the evidence of last night's poor decisions.

Right on schedule, a gleaming black Escalade with tinted windows pulled up. The back door swung open.

"Get in," said a voice from within. Not Luca's, but a woman's—crisp, commanding, and vaguely annoyed.

Maya hesitated. This was her last chance to walk away, to find another job—a normal, legal job that wouldn't potentially end with her in witness protection or at the bottom of the Hudson River.

The memory of the eviction notice taped to their apartment door that morning made the decision for her. With a deep breath, Maya climbed into the SUV.

Seated across from her was a striking woman in her early forties, with sleek dark hair cut in a sharp bob and the kind of tailored pantsuit that screamed "I could buy and sell you before lunch." Her manicured fingers tapped impatiently on a leather portfolio.

"Nineteen minutes to decide whether to save your skin or doom yourself," the woman remarked, checking her watch. "Longer than most take when Luca makes an offer."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Maya asked, buckling her seatbelt as the car pulled smoothly into traffic.

"Sophia Ricci. Chief operating officer of Ricci Enterprises, and Luca's older sister." She extended a hand with a grip that could crush walnuts. "You're the accountant who can't keep her mouth shut about other people's business."

Maya returned the handshake firmly. "I prefer 'ethical finance professional with a troublesome conscience,' but your description works too."

The corner of Sophia's mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the first crack in her intimidating facade. "Luca said you had spirit. We'll see how long that lasts." She handed Maya a sleek tablet. "Your employment contract. Salary, benefits, expectations, confidentiality agreement. Standard NDA with some... special provisions."

Maya scanned the document, her accountant's eye-catching, important details. The salary made her eyes widen—three times her previous pay, as promised. Full health benefits. Housing allowance. Even a car service.

"This seems too good to be true," she said cautiously.

"Oh, it comes with strings. Many, many strings," Sophia replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "Page four, special provisions."

Maya scrolled down and blanched. "'In the event of betrayal or breach of confidentiality, the Ricci family reserves the right to take appropriate measures to protect business interests...'" She looked up. "This sounds like a polite way of saying you'll have me killed."

Sophia shrugged elegantly. "We're a traditional family."

"I need to think about this."

"No, you don't." Sophia nodded toward the window. "We're here."

The Escalade had stopped in front of an imposing Art Deco building in Manhattan's Financial District, the kind of place where hedge fund managers and tech moguls kept offices with views worth more than most people's lifetime earnings.

Inside, they bypassed the security desk with nothing more than a respectful nod from the guard and took a private elevator to the penthouse floor. Sophia led Maya through a reception area staffed by two men who looked more like bodybuilders than receptionists, and into a corner office that belonged in a magazine spread.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city. Minimalist furniture in rich leather and dark wood created an atmosphere of understated wealth and power. Behind an enormous desk sat Luca Ricci, looking even more devastating in daylight—charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his athletic frame, dark hair artfully styled, those intense eyes focused on a computer screen.

He looked up as they entered, his gaze sweeping over Maya with an assessment that made her skin prickle.

"Ms. Russo," he said, rising. "I wasn't sure you'd accept my invitation."

"Eviction notices are very motivating," Maya replied.

Luca smiled—that dangerous smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Desperation makes for poor business decisions. Are you desperate, Ms. Russo?"

"Pragmatic," she corrected. "And curious. What exactly would I be doing here that's worth that astronomical salary?"

Luca gestured for her to sit, then pressed a button on his desk. "Franco, bring in the Richardson files."

A moment later, a young man with an incongruously friendly face entered, carrying a stack of folders. He set them on the desk with a respectful nod to Luca.

"This is everything your former employer had on Richardson Textiles," Luca explained as Franco departed. "Plus some additional information we've... acquired."

Maya leafed through the files, her accountant's brain automatically processing the numbers. "These match what I found—the inconsistencies in their international transfers, the fake vendors, the misreported income."

"Now look at this." Luca handed her another file, unmarked.

It took Maya only moments to understand. "These are bank records from the Cayman Islands. These aren't just laundering their own money—they're cleaning cash for someone else." She looked up sharply. "How did you get these? These aren't public records."

"We have resources," Luca said simply. "What you discovered at your firm was just the tip of the iceberg. The Richardsons have been laundering money for the Gambino family for years. A rival organization to ours."

"And you want me to... what? Help you take down your competition?"

"I want you to do what you do best—follow the money." Luca leaned forward, his expression intense. "The Ricci family has legitimate businesses—real estate, import/export, restaurants. But to stay legitimate, we need to know what our competitors are doing. How they're moving their money, who they're bribing, where they're vulnerable."

Maya closed the file slowly. "So I'd be like your financial spy."

"Intelligence analyst," Sophia corrected from where she stood by the window. "We're not asking you to break any laws, Ms. Russo. Just to use your considerable skills to help us protect our interests."

"And if I find something illegal in your operations?" Maya challenged, looking directly at Luca.

"I'd expect you to bring it to my attention," he replied smoothly. "So we can... rectify the situation."

Maya knew she was at a crossroads. Part of her—the part that had gotten her fired for exposing the Richardsons—screamed that this was wrong, dangerous, and possibly criminal. But another part—the part currently facing homelessness—whispered that maybe, just maybe, she could do some good from the inside.

"One condition," she said finally. "I don't cook books. I don't falsify records. I don't directly participate in anything illegal."

"Understood," Luca agreed, far too quickly for Maya's comfort.

"I mean it," she insisted. "I'll help you understand your competitors' finances, I'll analyze data, I'll even suggest legal tax strategies. But I won't cross that line."

Luca studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, surprisingly, he laughed—a genuine sound that transformed his face from intimidating to almost boyishly charming.

"Sophia," he said, "I think Ms. Russo is going to be a very interesting addition to our team."

Sophia made a noncommittal sound. "She hasn't signed yet."

Maya looked down at the tablet still in her hands, the contract glowing on the screen. This was it—the moment she either walked away or threw her lot in with the Ricci crime family.

"What about my apartment situation? The eviction?"

"Already handled," Luca said casually. "Your landlord had a change of heart this morning. Decided to forgive the late payment. As for your roommate..." His lip curled slightly. "The crystal-loving influencer? We've arranged for her to receive a sponsored retreat opportunity in California. Six months, all expenses paid."

Maya's eyes widened. "But how did you—"

"Do we have a deal, Ms. Russo?" Luca extended his hand across the desk.

Maya looked at that hand—strong, manicured, with an expensive watch peeking from beneath his cuff and knew it had likely done things she didn't want to contemplate. But it was also offering her a lifeline, however dangerous.

She placed her hand in his, ignoring the electric jolt that shot up her arm at the contact. "Deal."

Later, as she signed the contract, Maya couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just made a deal with the devil himself. A devastatingly handsome devil with an Italian accent and eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed defenses.

What she didn't notice was the way Luca watched her sign, a flicker of something beyond professional interest crossing his face—something that made Sophia raise an eyebrow in silent warning.

"Welcome to the family, Maya Russo," Luca said, his voice dropping to a register that sent an entirely inappropriate shiver down her spine.

Family. She'd just joined the mob.

Her mother was going to kill her—if the Riccis didn't do it first.