Chapter 4
Alessia looked at Bellini.
For the first time that morning, something crossed her face — not defiance, not anger. Fear. It came and went quickly, but Dante saw it, and the room saw him see it.
“Tell him,” Bellini said.
Alessia’s fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase.
“I was cleaning.”
Bellini smiled. It was a thin, patient smile. “At midnight.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Mrs. Conte shook her head. “This is absurd.”
Dante’s gaze stayed on Alessia.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You’re lying.”
The room went absolutely still.
Alessia’s face lost color.
Dante stepped closer.
“But you’re not lying about being in the study.”
“No.”
“Then you’re lying about why.”
She said nothing.
Bellini moved forward. “Dante, this is exactly the problem. She had unauthorized access to private documents. Security should remove her.”
Dante looked at him.
“Did I ask you?”
Bellini stopped. “No.”
Dante turned back to Mrs. Conte.
“Give her the key back.”
Nobody moved. Mrs. Conte blinked.
“Sir—”
“The key.”
She opened her hand. The silver key lay against her palm. Dante took it, and held it out toward Alessia.
She stared at him.
“I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.”
She took it slowly, the way you take something that might be a trap.
Dante looked around the foyer — at the uniforms, the security men, the advisor by the fireplace, the head of household with her folded apron.
Then he gave the order that silenced the room.
CHAPTER 2 — THE MAN WHO NEVER RAISED HIS VOICE
“Everyone who had access to this house after ten last night stays.”
Mrs. Conte frowned. “Mr. Moretti, Miss Romano isn’t—”
“Allesia isn’t fired.”
Bellini’s jaw tightened. He did not say anything, but his hand moved — a small adjustment of his cuff, a gesture Alessia had seen him make a hundred times across the dining room when a number displeased him.
Dante continued, as if no one had spoken.
“Lock the gates.”
The two security men moved immediately, one toward the front doors, one toward the service corridor.
“No staff leaves. No vehicles leave. No bags leave.” His eyes settled on Bellini. “And nobody touches my study until I know what she saw.”
Alessia stopped breathing.
Dante noticed. Bellini noticed too — she saw his eyes flick to her, quick and bright, and then away.
That was when Dante knew.
Not the whole of it. Not yet. But the shape of it, the way you know a room has a draft before you find the window. The maid hadn’t been caught stealing something from him.