Chapter 2 - THE BLOOD ON THE MARBLE
“Is that true?” Dominic repeated.
His voice didn’t rise in volume. It didn’t need to. The quiet resonance of it vibrated through the marble floor beneath Skylar’s hands.
She looked up at him. The man who owned half the city, whose mere presence made politicians sweat, was kneeling on the floor, his expensive tuxedo pants soaking up the spilled red wine. The white handkerchief he held to her bleeding cheek smelled faintly of cedar and rain.
“Dominic, this is ridiculous,” Bianca said, her voice entirely too high. The panic was bleeding through her polished exterior. “She’s a clumsy maid. You know her reputation. She tripped. She dropped the tray and hit the table.”
Skylar’s jaw throbbed. The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. She could take the easy way out. She could nod, accept the blame, and keep her job. Her father’s dialysis bills were due on Tuesday. The hospital had already called twice.
But then she looked at Carmela.
The proud older woman was weeping silently, her hands trembling as she clutched her ruined shawl. Bianca had made her feel small. Bianca had made her feel crazy.
“She didn’t trip,” Carmela whispered, though her voice broke.
Dominic didn’t look at his mother. He didn’t look at his fiancée. His dark, impenetrable eyes remained fixed entirely on Skylar.
“Tell me what happened, Skylar.”
He remembered her name.
In eleven months, he had never called her anything but ‘Miss Gallagher,’ and even then, only rarely.
“Mrs. Rossi spilled her wine,” Skylar managed to say, wincing as the skin of her cheek stretched. “Miss Moretti grew angry. She raised her hand to strike your mother. I stepped in the way.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
It was the kind of quiet that precedes a devastating storm. The two security men at the door shifted their weight, their hands subtly moving closer to their holsters.
“You lying cow,” Bianca hissed, taking a step forward. “Who do you think you are? You’re nothing! You break everything you touch in this house! Dominic, are you really going to take the word of the help over your future wife?”
Dominic slowly removed the blood-soaked handkerchief from Skylar’s face. He inspected the deep gash across her cheekbone. It would need stitches. The heavy diamond on Bianca’s ring had done its work.
He stood up.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t raise a hand. He simply turned to his lead security man.
“Marcus. Call Dr. Evans. Have him meet us in the east wing guest room.”
“Yes, boss.”
Then, Dominic turned to Bianca.
“Take off the ring.”
Bianca froze. The color drained completely from her beautiful, sharp face. “What?”
“The ring, Bianca. Take it off.”
“Dominic, you can’t do this. My family—”
“Your family is currently operating on my goodwill,” Dominic said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “A goodwill that evaporated the second you raised a hand to my mother. If you ever step foot on this estate again, I will not be polite. The ring.”
Trembling, Bianca pulled the three-carat diamond from her finger and dropped it onto the serving tray Skylar had dropped. It landed with a hollow clink.
“You’ll regret this,” Bianca spat, her eyes darting between Dominic and the bleeding maid on the floor. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
She turned and stormed out of the conservatory.
Skylar tried to push herself up, her head spinning. She felt Carmela’s gentle hands on her shoulders, helping her sit.
“Easy,” Dominic said, stepping back to her side. He reached down to help her stand.
As he grasped Skylar’s arm, pulling her upward, Skylar’s apron pocket caught on the edge of the shattered silver tray. The fabric tore.
Something heavy and metallic slipped from her pocket, clattering onto the marble floor.
Dominic looked down.
His jaw tightened.
It was a heavy, ornate silver key. The crest of the Rossi family was engraved on its head.
May you like
Dominic slowly bent down and picked it up. When he looked back at Skylar, the gentle protectiveness in his eyes had vanished, replaced by the chilling gaze of a ruthless boss.
“This is the key to my father’s private safe,” Dominic said quietly. “He died ten years ago. Why is it in your pocket?”
