Chapter 2 - The velvet lockdown
The absolute silence that followed Dominic’s question was heavier than the heavy oak doors of the estate. Celeste remained on the floor, surrounded by a glittering sea of broken crystal and scattered silver. The red mark on her fair cheek was a stark contrast to her sudden paleness. She looked up at Dominic, trying to mask her terror with a look of offended dignity, but the trembling of her hands betrayed her.
Dominic did not offer her a hand. He looked down at the woman who had married his late brother, a woman he had allowed to play the role of the estate's matriarch for five long years.
“Clean this up,” Dominic ordered, his tone completely devoid of emotion. He wasn't speaking to Clara. He was speaking to Celeste.
He placed a firm, protective hand on the small of Clara’s back. The warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her maid uniform sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. “Come with me,” he said softly, guiding her out of the ruined banquet hall and away from the venomous glare of his sister-in-law.
They walked through the sprawling corridors of the mansion. The estate was a labyrinth of wealth, filled with priceless art and imported marble. Clara had cleaned every inch of these floors, polished every banister, yet walking beside the head of the Carvelli syndicate, the house felt entirely different. It felt like a puzzle she had never noticed was missing pieces.
Dominic led her into his private study, a massive room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and heavy leather furniture. He closed the doors and locked them, the heavy deadbolts sliding into place with a definitive click. The room was bathed in the warm, cinematic light of a single desk lamp.
“Sit,” Dominic instructed, pointing to a plush leather armchair.
Clara obeyed, her hands clutching the brass key in her lap. She felt entirely out of place in her uniform, yet the way Dominic looked at her was completely devoid of the usual class barrier. He walked over to a crystal decanter, poured a small amount of amber liquid into a glass, and handed it to her.
“Drink. It will stop the shaking,” he commanded gently.
Clara took a sip, the liquid burning warmly down her throat. “Mr. Carvelli, I don’t want any trouble. My grandmother gave me this key on her deathbed. She told me it was the only thing our family had left. I didn't know what it went to. I just needed a job, and the agency sent me here.”
Dominic leaned against his heavy mahogany desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The charcoal tuxedo hugged his athletic frame perfectly. “The agency didn't send you here by accident, Clara. Nothing in this family happens by accident. The crest on that key matches the architectural foundation of this entire estate. The Carvelli family moved into this house fifty years ago. My father claimed he built it.”
He walked toward her, his polished shoes silent on the Persian rug. He knelt down so he was eye level with her, his dark, intense eyes searching her face. “My father was a very powerful man, but he was also a liar. Show me the key.”
Clara handed it to him. Dominic stood up and walked toward the far end of the study. The wall was entirely covered by a massive, intricate wooden bookshelf. He ran his large fingers along the wood paneling, tracing the lines of the wood grain until he stopped at a subtle, decorative wooden rosette carved into the trim. It was the same crest.
Dominic pressed his thumb against the center of the crest. With a soft click, a hidden panel slid back, revealing an old, tarnished brass keyhole.
Clara stood up, her breath catching in her throat.
Dominic inserted the key Clara’s grandmother had given her. It fit perfectly. He turned it, and a heavy, metallic clank echoed behind the wall. The entire bookshelf unlatched and swung inward, revealing a pitch-black corridor hidden in the walls of the mansion.
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A cold draft swept into the warm study. Dominic looked back at Clara, the intimidatingly composed mafia boss suddenly looking at her as if she were the most important piece on a chessboard he didn't know he was playing.
“Are you ready to see what your grandmother really left you?” he asked.
