Chương 3 - Blood on Silk
The dawn came up over Chicago like a bruised plum, streaking gray light across the marble terrace outside my new bedroom.
I hadn't slept a wink.
The third-floor guest suite was larger than the entire apartment I had shared with my mother on the South Side. The bed was draped in Egyptian cotton, the bathroom was carved out of white Carrera marble, and a fire crackled in the hearth. Yet I had spent the entire night sitting on the edge of the mattress, jumping at every creak of the floorboards, listening to the muffled shouts and frantic footsteps echoing from the estate grounds below.
By six in the morning, the police sirens had finally faded.
Luca had handled it. How a mafia don explained a dead man rolled into his security gate without ending up in handcuffs was beyond my comprehension, but Daniel had spent hours coordinating with lawyers and high-ranking detectives who arrived in unmarked sedans. By sunrise, Keller’s car was gone, the gate was repaired, and the driveway had been washed clean with high-pressure hoses.
A soft knock sounded at my door.
I flinched, pulling my robe tighter around my shoulders. "Who is it?"
"Nora. It's Mrs. Carter."
Relief washed over me. I unlocked the heavy door. The head housekeeper stood in the corridor, holding a garment bag and a silver tray carrying black coffee and toasted brioche. Her usually stern face was lined with deep, exhausted wrinkles.
"Mr. Moretti asked me to bring this to you," she said, stepping inside and placing the tray on the vanity. She unzipped the garment bag, revealing a modest, exquisitely tailored charcoal-gray wool dress with long sleeves that would easily hide the heavy bandages on my wrist and hand.
"These were delivered from a boutique on Michigan Avenue an hour ago," Mrs. Carter said quietly, not meeting my eyes. "He said you are to wear them today."
"Mrs. Carter..." I hesitated, feeling the weight of the woman’s unspoken questions. "The staff... what are they saying?"
Mrs. Carter paused, her hands smoothing the fine wool of the dress. She turned to me, her expression a mix of maternal sorrow and cold reality. "They are saying that a maid who has worked here less than a year has suddenly been moved to the family floor while Miss Bellini sleeps alone in the east wing. They are saying that Keller was killed because he was looking at things he shouldn't have. And they are saying that you know why."
She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "Listen to me, child. I knew Luca’s mother. Caterina Moretti was a saint who died in a pool of blood because she trusted the wrong smile. If Luca is keeping you close, it means you are in the crosshairs. Do not leave his sight today. Miss Bellini woke up twenty minutes ago, and she is like a wounded viper."
Before I could answer, the door behind her was shoved open.
Vanessa Bellini stood in the doorway.
She was wearing a cream-colored cashmere robe trimmed in ostrich feathers, but her face was stripped of the glamorous poise she had worn at dinner. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy knot, her mascara was faintly smudged beneath her eyes, and her knuckles were white around a gold coffee cup.
"Out, Carter," Vanessa snapped, her voice like cracking ice.
Mrs. Carter didn't bow her head. She bowed slightly from the waist—cold, correct, and unfazed. "Yes, Miss Bellini." She brushed past her and vanished down the hall, leaving the door wide open.
Vanessa stepped into the room, her eyes raking over the king-sized bed, the crackling fireplace, and finally settling on me. The hatred in her gaze was almost physical.
"What is this?" Vanessa hissed, gesturing around the lavish suite. "Why are your things up here? Why did Daniel tell me that my personal assistant’s duties have been reassigned to a clumsy, thieving servant?"
I stood my ground, though my pulse roared in my ears. I kept my injured hand tucked behind my back.
"Mr. Moretti requested my assistance with inventory, Miss Bellini," I said, keeping my voice as flat and respectful as possible. "I am only following his orders."
"Inventory?" She let out a sharp, mocking laugh that held an edge of hysteria. She took two aggressive steps toward me, closing the distance until I could smell the bitter espresso on her breath. "You think you're clever, don't you, Nora? You think because Luca has a soft spot for charity cases and pathetic sob stories, you can play games in this house?"
"I don't play games, ma'am."
"You were outside the office yesterday," she whispered, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "You eavesdropped. And then you ran crying to Luca about your little fingers. Did you tell him what Keller said?"
"I told Mr. Moretti that you accidentally slammed the door on my hand," I lied smoothly, staring straight into her green eyes. "I told him you were busy with wedding preparations."
Vanessa sneered, raising her hand as if she wanted to strike me. "Don't lie to me! Keller is dead! He was dumped at our gates like a slaughtered dog! Do you know what that means?!"
"It means you shouldn't be screaming at people who can't hit back, Vanessa."
A deep, commanding voice cut through the tension like a straight razor.
Vanessa froze.
Luca stood in the doorway. He was fully dressed in a tailored navy three-piece suit, fresh from a shave, looking completely unaffected by the sleepless night. His presence instantly sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
Vanessa dropped her hand, instantly rearranging her features into an expression of wounded vulnerability. "Luca, darling... I was just asking Nora why she was moved up here. The household staff is talking. It looks completely inappropriate—"
"I don't care about the household staff," Luca said calmly, walking into the room. He didn't look at Vanessa; he looked at me. "Are you dressed, Nora?"
"I was just about to change, Mr. Moretti."
"Put on the dress," Luca said. "You're coming with me downstairs. We have guests arriving."
Vanessa’s voice turned shrill. "Guests? At seven in the morning? Luca, someone was murdered on our driveway last night! The police were crawling all over the grounds! We should be locking down the house, not receiving visitors!"
Luca finally turned his eyes to his fiancée. The sheer, glacial indifference in his gaze made Vanessa take a step back.
"The police are gone," Luca said softly. "The matter has been handled. And the guest arriving this morning is someone you know very well."
Vanessa blinked, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. "Who?"
"Your father," Luca replied.
Vanessa’s face went completely bloodless. The haughty, furious heiress vanished in an instant, replaced by a terrified girl staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
"My... my father?" she stammered. "Why is he coming here?"
"Because," Luca said, stepping closer to her, his voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "he called me thirty minutes after Keller's body was identified. It seems Andrew Keller was carrying an encrypted phone. And the last fifteen calls on that phone were made directly to Arturo Bellini’s personal estate in Lake Forest."
Vanessa opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Luca turned back to me. "Five minutes, Nora. Wear the charcoal dress. And don't hide your hand."
May you like
He stepped out into the hallway, leaving Vanessa standing frozen in the middle of my room, staring at the floor as if she could already see the ground opening up beneath her feet.
***
