Chapter 2 - The Red Silk Gown and the Midnight Interrogation
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The tea smelled faintly of honey and dried blossoms.
I set the porcelain cup on the mahogany side table beside Margaret, who sat back in the deep leather armchair.
She breathed a long, tired sigh.
“You are a brave girl, Emma,” she murmured.
“I didn't do anything special, Mrs. Dawson. I just saw the way she treated you.”
“In this city, treating an old woman with respect when a boss’s woman tells you not to... that is rare. Grace was like that. Always worried about the people sweeping the floors before she worried about the men sitting at the head of the banquet.”
Downstairs, doors slammed.
Cars started their engines.
The gravel driveway hummed with the sound of expensive German sedans pulling away in haste.
The engagement dinner of the decade had ended before the salad forks were laid out.
I remained by the window, watching the tail-lights vanish into the rainy night.
A knock sounded at the door.
Luca walked in alone.
He had discarded his tuxedo jacket.
His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up over forearms scarred by old battles he never spoke about.
He didn't look like a mob boss at that moment; he looked like a widower who had just been shattered all over again.
“Margaret,” he said, sitting on the corner of his wide desk.
“Luca.”
“Tell me everything. Word for word.”
Margaret adjusted her glasses.
“Three weeks ago, on a Tuesday afternoon, a black town car parked outside my garden. Two young men knocked, showed me badges that weren't real police shields, and told me Ms. Bellini wished to make an arrangement. When they brought me into the car, she was waiting in the back seat.”
Luca’s fingers gripped the edge of the mahogany desk until the wood creaked.
“She knew Grace had left an item with you?”
“Yes,” Margaret said. “She asked for the box. She offered me ten thousand dollars cash, or the personal check you hold in your hand. She said if I gave it to her, she would ensure my grandson's medical school tuition in Madison was paid in full.”
Luca let out a hollow, bitter laugh.
“And if you refused?”
“She told me that old wooden houses in Oak Park burn very easily in the dry season.”
My breath caught in my chest.
I squeezed the tea tray against my ribs.
Luca did not raise his voice. He didn't curse.
Instead, a chilling stillness settled over his entire body.
He looked up and noticed me still standing near the door.
“Emma.”
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Did Vanessa threaten you when you let Margaret through the gate?”
I swallowed hard. I remembered the harsh grip she had tried to clamp onto my forearm outside, and the look of pure venom in her eyes.
“She told me I was done here, sir. She said I would never find another job in Illinois.”
Luca stood up slowly, walked across the plush Persian rug, and stopped right in front of me.
He was a tall man, commanding, but when he looked into my eyes, there was no threat. Only an unbearable weight of sorrow and gratitude.
“You stayed by Margaret’s side despite that?”
“My father taught me that character is what you do when you think nobody with power is watching,” I answered, echoing the words Grace had written on the card.
Luca’s eyes softened just for a fraction of a second.
“Your father is John Reed, isn't he? Former foreman down at the rail yards.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A good man. An honest man.” Luca turned back to Margaret. “Tonight, you stay in the guest suite on the third floor. Emma will prepare the room. Nobody will touch you, Margaret. You have my word on my life.”
Half an hour later, I had settled Margaret into the warm guest bedroom with extra quilts.
When I came back down the servants' staircase to collect my coat and clock out, I found Vanessa sitting on the bottom step of the main foyer.
Her red silk dress was wrinkled, pooled around her ankles like spilled wine.
Her mascara was smudged.
In her hand was a half-empty glass of bourbon.
When she heard my rubber-soled shoes on the marble floor, she turned her head.
Her gaze was pure poison.
“You think you won something tonight, don't you, little maid?”
I kept my posture straight. “I don't think anything, Ms. Bellini. I was doing my job.”
“You destroyed my engagement!” she hissed, standing up unsteadily and pointing her manicured finger at my chest. “Do you have any idea who my father is? The Bellini shipping docks finance half of Luca’s operations! My brother commands thirty soldiers on the South Side! Luca will get over his sentimental little fit by tomorrow morning, and when he does, you will be in a ditch along the canal!”
Before I could reply, a low voice echoed down the darkened gallery.
“Vanessa.”
Luca emerged from the library.
He held a small leather travel bag.
He dropped it at her feet.
It thudded heavily onto the marble.
“Your clothes from the master suite are in there,” Luca said without inflection. “Your driver is waiting outside. You will leave this house right now.”
“Luca!” she cried out, her eyes wide with shock. “You're kicking me out? For an old nurse and a nobody maid? We announced our union to the families! My father will pull the fleets! He’ll declare a blood feud!”
Luca walked toward her, towering over her with eyes like cold slate.
“Let him pull them. Tell Alberto Bellini that if he wants a war over a broken promise to a snake, he can meet me at dawn on the pier. But you will never set foot in this house again.”
Vanessa looked at him, realizing for the first time that his mind was impenetrable.
Then she swung around and glared at me.
May you like
“This is your fault,” she whispered, so close I could smell the alcohol on her breath. “You chose the wrong side, Emma Reed. Remember that when your world burns down.”
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