Chapter 2 - THE HANDBAG
The ringing of my phone cut through the heavy silence of the dining room. It was a cheerful, generic chime, but muffled by the expensive leather of Celeste Harrington’s handbag.
Everyone at the table stared.
Nico Caruso didn’t blink. He just turned his dark eyes from me to Celeste.
“Your bag is ringing, Celeste,” Nico said. His voice was quiet, but it commanded the entire room.
Celeste’s perfect, practiced smile finally cracked. She reached under the table, her hands trembling just enough to notice. She unclasped the bag, pulled out my phone, and set it on the white linen tablecloth.
I didn’t wait for her to speak. I walked forward, picked it up, and looked at the screen. It was Tom, calling again. I answered it and put it on speaker.
“I’m here, Tom,” I said, looking right at Celeste.
“I hear you,” Tom’s voice echoed from the phone and from where he stood near the doorway, holding the wilting daisies.
“Amelia, this is a misunderstanding,” Celeste said, her voice rising an octave. “I was trying to protect you. Tom doesn’t make enough money to support a family. I’ve seen his pay stubs from when he worked for my husband’s contracting firm. I was saving you from a lifetime of struggling.”
Tom stiffened. He had worked for her husband’s firm three years ago, right before his brother died in a tragic worksite accident.
“You sent a fake breakup text to ruin my wedding because you think I’m poor?” Tom asked, his voice shaking with anger.
“I did it because you’re a distraction!” Celeste snapped, dropping the concerned mentor act. “Amelia is my best server. I have the most powerful men in the city at this table tonight, and I needed everything to be perfect. A twenty-minute delay wasn’t going to cut it.”
Nico Caruso slowly wiped his mouth with a napkin. He placed it carefully beside his plate.
“So you steal her phone and break her fiancé’s heart, just to make sure my wine is poured on time?” Nico asked.
“I wanted to impress you, Mr. Caruso,” she pleaded.
Nico stood up. “You haven’t impressed me, Celeste. You’ve disgusted me.”
He gestured to his security men. “We’re leaving.”
As Nico reached into his jacket for his coat check ticket, his elbow knocked Celeste’s open handbag off the table. It spilled onto the hardwood floor. Compacts, lipstick, a wallet, and a small, tarnished silver pocket watch scattered across the rug.
Tom let out a choked breath. He dropped the daisies.
He walked past me, knelt down, and picked up the silver watch.
“Where did you get this?” Tom whispered, his face completely drained of color.
May you like
Celeste lunged for it. “Give that back. It’s an antique.”
Tom stepped out of her reach. He turned the watch over. “It has my brother’s initials on the back. This was on him the day he died at your husband's construction site. The police said it was lost in the rubble.”
