Chapter 2 - THE NUMBER BENEATH THE SUNFLOWER
Celine’s face went entirely still.
For a second, the clinking of crystal and the low murmur of jazz from the patio seemed to vanish, leaving only the heavy silence hovering over our table. Celine pulled her hand away from Luca’s sleeve, her manicured fingers curling into her palms.
“Martha, you’re confused,” Celine said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. Richard was worried sick. He’s your husband.”
“You asked for my spare key so you could leave a housewarming gift,” Martha whispered, her voice trembling but refusing to break. “I trusted you.”
Luca Moretti didn’t look at his fiancée. He kept his large, steady hand firmly clamped over the spare key resting on the linen tablecloth. His dark eyes were fixed on Richard.
“Where did you get this key, Richard?” Luca asked. The polite, wealthy host was gone; the tone belonged to a man who had built a shipping empire from the ground up.
Richard straightened his suit jacket, forcing a chuckle that sounded like dry leaves. “Come now, Luca. Celine and I go way back. When she heard Martha was having one of her episodes and running off to a cheap rental, she reached out. We’re just trying to protect her.”
“Episodes,” Martha repeated, the word hollow and painful.
I stepped closer to Martha’s chair. “She’s not having an episode. She’s finally safe.”
Richard glared at me. “You’re the caterer, Claire. Stick to pouring coffee before I speak to your manager.”
“I’m the event coordinator,” I said evenly. “And right now, I’m Martha’s friend.”
Luca finally turned his head to look at Celine. She was wearing a stunning red silk gown that had cost more than my car, but suddenly, she looked incredibly small.
“You gave this man the address to her new apartment?” Luca asked quietly. “After she explicitly told you she was hiding from him?”
“Luca, darling, he’s her legal husband,” Celine deflected, her eyes darting nervously around the room to see if his wealthy business partners were watching. “Martha is taking assets that belong to their marriage. Richard just wanted to secure what’s his.”
Martha gasped. “I took nothing! I left with my clothes and my mother’s silver hairbrush. I paid the deposit with the tips I saved from the bakery!”
“Is that so?” Richard sneered, leaning over the table. He pointed a thick finger at the spare key still trapped under Luca’s hand. “Then why did you leave the safety deposit box number attached to your little keychain? The one hiding the bearer bonds you stole from my firm?”
I frowned, staring at the yellow tag attached to the spare key. I had drawn that tiny sunflower on it with a Sharpie just this morning so Martha could tell it apart from her mailbox key.
“There is no safety deposit box,” Martha said, bewildered.
“Don’t lie,” Richard snapped. “I peeled back the sticker on the back of that tag. The vault number is right there. You’re a thief, Martha.”
Luca slowly lifted his hand.
He picked up the spare key. He turned the yellow plastic tag over. The back of the tag had a small, white adhesive label that I hadn’t put there.
Luca peeled the white sticker back with his thumbnail.
His jaw tightened.
“This isn’t a safety deposit box number,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.
Celine stepped back, her face turning chalk-white. “Luca, give that to me.”
May you like
Luca didn’t hand it to her. He looked up at Richard, then at Celine, his eyes burning with a sudden, cold realization.
“This is an offshore routing number,” Luca said slowly. “And it matches the exact account where my company’s missing charity funds were supposedly diverted last month. The funds you were managing, Celine.”
