The Locksmith Was Just The Beginning

The name on the boarding pass was Marcus Romano.

The youngest son of the Romano family. The man who was supposed to be in a federal penitentiary for the hit on Luca’s brother.

My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the crumpled ticket.

Vanessa wasn’t planning to go to Italy with Luca. She was planning to go with Marcus.

Which meant by Sunday morning, Luca Moretti was meant to be dead.

“Rachel.”

I jumped, spinning around.

Mrs. Carter stood in the doorway, a stack of linen napkins in her arms. She frowned, seeing my pale face.

“Are you alright, dear? Your bandage is bleeding through your hair.”

I quickly reached up. My fingers came away with a smear of fresh blood. The stress was raising my blood pressure, opening the wound.

“I’m fine,” I lied. I shoved the boarding pass deep into the pocket of my black apron. “Just a headache.”

“Go to the kitchen. Have a glass of water. The guests arrive in an hour.”

I nodded, hurrying out of the dining room.

I had to find Luca. I had to show him the ticket.

But the house was swarming. Security, caterers, extended family arriving early from New York.

I checked his office. Empty.

I checked the library. Empty.

As I walked down the main hallway, I heard voices coming from the billiards room. The door was cracked open.

I peeked inside.

Luca was standing by the mahogany table, pouring a drink.

But he wasn’t alone.

Vanessa was standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Everything is perfect, darling,” she purred. “Tomorrow is going to be the best day of our lives.”

Luca took a sip of his scotch. His face in the mirror above the bar was completely unreadable.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said smoothly.

“I can’t wait to get to Italy,” she whispered, kissing his neck. “Just you and me.”

My stomach churned. She was a flawless actress.

I couldn’t interrupt them. Not without blowing Luca’s plan. I stepped back from the door and hurried to the kitchen.

The rehearsal dinner began at 7:00 PM.

Eighty guests. Laughter, clinking glasses, expensive wine.

I moved through the room like a ghost, serving plates, filling water glasses. I kept my eyes down, playing the broken, terrified maid perfectly.

Vanessa watched me. Every time I walked past her chair, she would slightly shift her arm or adjust her dress, as if daring me to bump into her so she would have an excuse to humiliate me.

At 9:00 PM, it happened.

I was clearing the appetizer plates. I reached for Vanessa’s plate.

She abruptly slammed her hand down on the table.

“Where is it?” she demanded.

The table went quiet. Conversations halted.

Luca looked at her. “Where is what, Vanessa?”

“My bracelet.” She held up her wrist. The diamond tennis bracelet she had been wearing all evening was gone.

“It probably just slipped off,” Luca said calmly. “Check the floor.”

“It didn’t slip off,” Vanessa snapped. Her eyes locked onto me. “It has a double safety clasp. It has to be unhooked.”

The entire room stared at me.

Eighty pairs of wealthy, powerful eyes boring into a maid making eighteen dollars an hour.

My heart hammered against my ribs. “I didn’t touch your wrist, Miss Bellini.”

“You were just reaching across me!” she raised her voice. “You’ve been hovering around me all night!”

“Vanessa,” Luca’s voice dropped an octave. A warning.

But she didn’t listen. She stood up.

“Empty your apron pockets,” she demanded.

I froze.

The boarding pass.

If I emptied my pockets, Vanessa would see the ticket. She would know I knew about Marcus Romano. She would realize the plan was compromised.

And if she panicked, she might accelerate the hit on Luca.

“Empty them, Rachel,” Vanessa sneered. “Unless you have something to hide.”

I looked at Luca.

His eyes were narrow, studying me. He knew I didn’t have the bracelet. But he also saw the sheer terror in my eyes. He saw my hand gripping the fabric of my apron pocket.

“That’s enough,” Luca said. He stood up.

“Luca, she’s a thief!” Vanessa cried. “Look at her! She’s trembling!”

“I said, that’s enough.” Luca’s voice cracked like a whip across the silent room.

He walked around the table and stopped directly in front of Vanessa.

“You are making a scene at our rehearsal dinner over a piece of jewelry,” he said coldly.

He reached down into the folds of Vanessa’s heavy emerald skirt.

He pulled out the diamond bracelet.

“It was caught in your tulle,” he lied flawlessly. He handed it to her.

Vanessa blinked, her face flushing red. “I… I didn’t feel it.”

“Sit down.”

She sat.

Luca turned to me. “Go to the kitchen, Rachel. We’ll handle dessert.”

I nodded, my legs shaking so badly I could barely walk.

I practically ran through the swinging doors into the pantry, leaning against the cold metal shelving, gasping for air.

Ten seconds later, the doors pushed open again.

It was Luca.

He closed the doors behind him and locked them.

“What is in your pocket?” he asked quietly.

I reached in and pulled out the crumpled boarding pass. I handed it to him.

Luca looked at it.

The silence in the pantry was absolute.

I watched his jaw clench. I watched the realization hit him. The betrayal wasn't just financial. It was deeply, terribly personal.

“Marcus Romano,” Luca whispered.

“She dropped it in the dining room,” I said, my voice shaking. “She’s leaving with him on Sunday. Not you.”

Luca closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. When he opened them, the man I knew was gone.

The Mafia boss was back.

He folded the ticket and put it in his pocket.

“Rachel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are going to take off that apron. You are going to go out the back door. My driver, Paul, is waiting. He will take you to your apartment, pick up your daughter, and take you both to my safe house in the city.”

“What? No, I can’t just—”

“Vanessa knows you saw this,” Luca interrupted, his voice fiercely urgent.

“She doesn't! She didn't see me pick it up!”

“She knows it’s missing,” Luca said. “And she knows you’re the only one who was in the dining room before dinner. If she realizes you have this, you and Lily are dead.”

I stopped breathing.

“Go,” Luca ordered.

I ripped the apron off. I grabbed my coat.

I pushed out the back door into the cool night air. The black car was waiting.

I got in. We sped toward my apartment.

But when we pulled up to my building, my blood turned to ice.

The unmarked SUV Luca had sent to protect my daughter was empty. Both doors were hanging open.