MY NEW BODYGUARD

"Put that gun away. You're scaring my boss."

Four armed men went still in my office.

I looked up from a security report that had already ruined my morning. A little girl stood in the doorway with her fists planted on her hips. Her black jacket nearly reached her knees, her red bow tie hung crookedly under her chin, and a plastic earpiece curled around one small ear.

Lily Delgado was four years old. She was also, apparently, in charge.

"Excuse me?" asked Thomas, the guard checking the retention strap on his holster.

"Your gun," she repeated. "You're making everybody nervous."

Thomas looked toward me for help. In Chicago, men with twice his salary had learned not to interrupt my meetings. No one had prepared him for the daughter of my housekeeper.

"And who exactly is your boss?" I asked.

Lily marched across the carpet, the sleeves of her borrowed jacket flapping around her hands. She stopped at my desk and pointed at me.

"You. I'm your new bodyguard."

"I see. Who hired you?"

"Me."

"Bold decision. What are your qualifications?"

"I'm brave. I can run really fast. And I know how to call nine-one-one."

Somebody behind me coughed. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

I leaned back in my chair. "Then perhaps I should fire these gentlemen."

Lily turned and studied the four guards with the grave concentration of a judge considering a difficult case. "No. They can help me. But they need better manners."

I laughed.

It escaped before I could stop it, a rough, startled sound that seemed to surprise everyone in the room. I laughed again when Lily nodded as if she had just completed a successful inspection.

Six years. That was how long it had been since laughter had come easily. Since the night a police officer knocked on my door and told me my wife had died on a wet stretch of highway, my home had become a place of polished floors and closed doors. I had built more businesses, made more enemies, and learned how to end a conversation with one look. None of it had made the rooms less empty.

"Mr. Moretti!"

Rosa Delgado hurried into the office. Her chestnut hair had slipped loose from its knot, and a blue cleaning cloth was still tucked into the pocket of her skirt. She stopped when she saw Lily behind my desk.

"Lily, I told you to wait in the kitchen." Her eyes found mine. "I'm sorry, sir. She was supposed to be drawing while I finished the upstairs rooms."

"She's interviewing my security team," I said.

Rosa pressed her lips together, caught between embarrassment and a smile. "Lily, sweetheart, you can't walk into Mr. Moretti's office whenever you want."

"But Mommy, nobody was making him smile."

Rosa glanced at me. Something gentle passed across her face, gone almost before I caught it.

She had worked for me for two years. I knew she was punctual, that she never asked for favors, and that her daughter left crayon pictures outside my office every few days. The pictures were in the bottom drawer of my desk. All of them. I had never told either of them.

"We should go," Rosa said.

"One minute," Lily answered. She climbed onto the visitor's chair, inspected the untouched lunch tray on the side table, and gasped. "You didn't eat."

"I've been busy."

"That's bad for you. Rule number one: bodyguards make sure their bosses eat lunch."

"And if I refuse?"

"I'll tell Mommy."

"A formidable threat."

Rosa laughed softly. I took a bite of my sandwich. Only then did Lily allow her mother to lead her toward the door.

My security chief, Dominic Cole, stepped aside for them. He had been with me for ten years. He wore an immaculate charcoal suit and an old gold ring shaped like a lion's head. I noticed Lily looking down at the ring. Her smile faded for a second before Rosa took her hand.

"Cute kid," Dominic said after they left.

"She is."

"You should be careful about letting staff families wander through secure rooms."

"I know where the risks are, Dominic. Continue the report."

The afternoon swallowed the brief warmth of that visit. There were contracts to sign, insurance calls to return, and a dispute at a shipping facility on the South Side. By four, my head felt crowded with numbers.

I opened the upper drawer of my desk.

The velvet watch box was empty.

I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall. I checked beneath the papers, behind the ledgers, even inside the drawer I knew I had not opened in weeks. Nothing.

Isabella had given me the gold watch on our wedding morning. On the back she had engraved four words: COME HOME TO ME. I had not worn it since her funeral. But every day, I had known exactly where it was.

Dominic was in the room when I called for him.

"Lock down the house," I told him. "My wife's watch is missing."

He asked two precise questions, then sent guards to search. Fifteen minutes later he returned with Thomas beside him. A familiar gold watch lay in Dominic's open palm.

"We found it in Rosa's work apron," he said.

For a moment I could hear nothing but the ticking of the clock on my mantel.

Rosa was brought in. She looked at the watch, then at me. "I didn't take it. Mr. Moretti, I swear I didn't."

"It was in your pocket," Dominic said.

"I left my apron in the staff changing room. Anyone could have touched it."

"I'm sure it wasn't easy, raising a child on your own. People make unfortunate decisions when they're desperate."

Rosa recoiled as if he had slapped her. "Being poor doesn't make me a thief."

I looked from her to the watch. Ten years of loyalty stood on one side of the room. Two years of quiet, dependable work stood on the other. I hated that I had to weigh them at all.

"I haven't decided anything," I said.

"Don't be mad at Mommy."

Lily stood at the doorway, half-hidden behind its frame. Her bow tie was crooked again. She looked frightened, but she stepped into the room anyway.

I lowered my voice. "Lily, sweetheart, the grown-ups are sorting this out."

"But he's lying."

Dominic turned. "What?"

Lily's little hand trembled as she pointed straight at him.

"I saw him put the watch in Mommy's pocket."