Chapter 2 - The Silver Key
The scream tore through the heavy silence of the dining room, echoing down the grand marble staircase. For one agonizing second, nobody moved. The clinking of champagne glasses stopped. The soft jazz playing from the corner speakers suddenly sounded absurdly loud. Then I ran. I didn't care about the forty wealthy guests watching me. I didn't care about the spilled wine on my uniform or the fact that I was a servant in a billionaire’s mansion. That was my little sister. My shoes slipped on the polished marble steps, but I caught the heavy mahogany banister, pulling myself upward. “Katie!” I screamed, my voice cracking. Behind me, heavy footsteps pounded against the stairs. Luca Moretti was right behind me, moving with terrifying speed. The composed, quiet businessman had vanished, replaced by the ruthless syndicate boss Chicago whispered about in the dark. I reached the second-floor landing. The hallway was lined with closed guest bedroom doors. The air up here smelled of expensive lavender polish and cold air conditioning. “Katie!” I yelled again. A muffled sob came from the third door on the left. The VIP suite. I slammed my hands against the heavy oak door. It was locked. “Katie, open the door! It’s Emma!” “Emma!” Her voice was muffled, thick with terror. “He won't let me out! He locked it!” He. Richard Vale was standing downstairs in the dining room. If Richard was down there, who was inside the room with my nineteen-year-old sister? “Step back.” Luca's voice was low, devoid of all emotion. It was the scariest sound I had ever heard. He didn't yell. He didn't ask for a key. He simply lifted his leg and drove his heavy leather shoe directly into the space next to the door handle. The solid oak cracked. On the second kick, the doorframe splintered, and the door flew open, hitting the interior wall with a deafening crash. I rushed inside. Katie was backed into the far corner of the massive suite, clutching Richard’s heavy wool coat against her chest like a shield. Her uniform collar was torn. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Standing between her and the door was a man I recognized. Marcus. One of Vanessa Bellini’s personal bodyguards. A man who was supposed to be stationed outside. Marcus froze, his face draining of color as he saw Luca step into the room. “Mr. Moretti,” Marcus stammered, raising his hands. “This isn't what it looks like.” I ran to Katie, wrapping my arms around her shaking body. She buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. “He told me to put the coat on the bed,” Katie choked out, her fingers digging into my back. “Then he locked the door. He said Miss Vanessa told him he had to prep me before the Lake Geneva trip.” My blood turned to ice. Prep her. I looked at Marcus. I wanted to kill him. Luca slowly walked into the center of the room. He didn't look angry. He looked entirely hollowed out, which was infinitely worse. “Marcus,” Luca said softly. “Boss, please. Miss Bellini gave me strict orders. The Vale account is critical. She said the girl was part of the hospitality arrangement.” “Did she tell you to lock the door?” Marcus swallowed hard. “She gave me the master key. She said the girl might get cold feet.” Luca extended his right hand. “Give me the key.” Marcus reached into his pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a heavy, antique silver key. It was the master key for the east wing. A key only two people in the entire estate possessed: Luca, and his fiancée. Luca took the silver key. He looked at it for a long moment. Then he looked at Marcus. “You have worked for my family for four years,” Luca said quietly. “You know my rules about women. You know my rules about my staff.” “I was following the future Mrs. Moretti's orders, sir! She said you were too soft on the help. She said this is how the old families do business.” Luca’s jaw tightened. He slipped the silver key into his pocket. “Take off your jacket, Marcus.” Marcus hesitated. “Sir?” “Take it off.” Slowly, the bodyguard removed his tailored suit jacket. Luca moved so fast I barely registered it. His fist connected with Marcus’s jaw with a sickening crunch. The bodyguard collapsed backward, crashing into a glass coffee table, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Katie screamed again, pressing her face against me. Marcus groaned, trying to push himself up from the ruined glass. Luca stood over him, straightening his cuff. “You have ten seconds to get off my property,” Luca said, his voice deadly calm. “If I ever see your face in Chicago again, they won't find your body.” Marcus didn't argue. He scrambled to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth, and stumbled out of the shattered door. The room fell silent, save for Katie’s weeping. Luca turned to us. The violence in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a deep, agonizing shame. He took a step forward, then stopped, giving us space. “Emma,” he said softly. “Is she hurt?” “No,” I whispered, holding Katie tight. “Just terrified.” “Take her to my private study at the end of the hall. Lock the door from the inside. Do not open it for anyone but me.” I nodded, guiding Katie toward the door. But as I passed him, I stopped. “Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice shaking. “Vanessa arranged this. She sold my sister to Richard Vale.” Luca looked into my eyes. For the first time since I had met him, the powerful mafia boss looked entirely broken. “I know,” he whispered. I guided Katie down the hall to the study. As the heavy door clicked shut behind us, I realized something that made my stomach drop. Marcus said Vanessa told him to prep the girl for the Lake Geneva trip. But Richard Vale had explicitly said Vanessa arranged someone younger instead of me. Why did Vanessa want me out of the picture so badly? What did I know that she was trying to hide? And then, as I sat Katie on the leather sofa, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket of Richard’s coat, which Katie was still clutching. I pulled it out. It was a bank deposit receipt. Made out to Vanessa Bellini. For two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. And the account it was drawn from didn't belong to Richard Vale. It belonged to the rival Falcone syndicate.
