Chapter 2 - The House With No Mirrors
Salvatore never reached the door.
Matteo's men took him through the kitchen corridor while the restaurant manager told the staff that a medical emergency had closed the private room.
Mara stood beside the table with both arms wrapped around herself.
Nico had gone quiet again.
Matteo held him now, but the baby's eyes remained fixed on Mara.
She wanted to leave.
She also wanted to know why a seventy-year-old man had just pulled a gun after seeing her mother's necklace.
Those two desires fought inside her until anger won.
"Who is he?"
Matteo's face looked carved from stone.
"Salvatore Ricci. My father's oldest friend."
"He said my mother should have died."
"I heard him."
"Then why is he still breathing?"
Every man in the room looked at her.
Mara realized what she had asked.
Matteo's expression changed by one degree.
"Because dead men are bad at answering questions."
She swallowed.
That answer should not have reassured her.
Somehow, it did.
Matteo handed Nico to Enzo, who looked far more comfortable holding a gun than a baby.
Nico stared at him and immediately began to howl.
Enzo muttered, "I can negotiate with senators. I cannot negotiate with this."
Mara almost smiled.
Matteo looked at her.
"You cannot go back to your apartment tonight."
"There is no chance I'm going anywhere with you."
"Someone in this city knows who you are now."
"Because of you."
"Yes."
The fact that he did not argue stopped her.
He continued.
"And that makes you my responsibility."
"I am not your responsibility."
"No. You're a consequence."
Mara stared at him.
"That's worse."
"It was not meant to sound better."
She grabbed her coat from the service hook.
Matteo stepped aside rather than blocking her.
"Your address is on your employment file," he said.
She stopped.
"Anyone who knows the manager can get it. Salvatore has people everywhere."
"So what? You expect me to sleep in your house?"
"Tonight."
"Absolutely not."
"You can choose the guest room, the library, the couch, or the floor. You can lock every door. You can call the police if you want. But you are not going home alone."
Mara laughed bitterly.
"The police?"
"I said you can call them. I didn't say they can protect you."
"That line sounded much cooler in your head, didn't it?"
For the second time, Matteo nearly smiled.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Whatever he saw erased all amusement.
He answered.
"Speak."
Mara watched his face harden.
"When?"
Pause.
"Was anything taken?"
Another pause.
"Do not touch it."
He hung up.
Mara already knew she was not going to like the answer.
"What?"
"Your apartment door is open."
Her lungs stopped working.
Matteo continued.
"Your neighbor called the landlord because she heard glass breaking."
Mara grabbed the edge of the table.
"No."
"One of my men was already on the way."
"Why?"
"To watch the building from outside."
"You sent someone to my home without asking me?"
"Yes."
She should have screamed.
Instead she whispered, "Is anyone there?"
"No."
"My cat?"
"You have a cat?"
"Juniper."
Matteo looked at Enzo.
Enzo was already calling.
Thirty seconds later he said, "Cat is alive. Hiding under the bed. Angry."
Mara closed her eyes.
Relief hurt.
"Bring the cat," Matteo said.
Enzo nodded.
Mara opened her eyes.
"I did not agree to go with you."
Matteo picked up Nico.
The baby immediately reached toward her again.
"Then come for the cat."
She glared at him.
"You are manipulative."
"I have been told."
Forty minutes later, Mara sat in the back of a black SUV with Nico asleep against her chest.
She had not intended to hold him again.
He had started crying the moment the car moved.
Matteo had looked exhausted.
Mara had sighed and held out her arms.
Now Nico's warm cheek rested below her collarbone, one small fist curled around the silver chain.
Matteo sat across from her.
He had removed his suit jacket. The tattoos on his forearms were older than the ones on his hands, dark patterns layered over scars.
Mara looked away before he could catch her looking.
"How did his mother die?"
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Matteo went very still.
For a moment, she thought he would refuse.
Then he said, "Car accident."
Mara's eyes lifted sharply.
He noticed.
"Yes," he said. "I know."
"Same as my father."
"That is why I'm not assuming anything anymore."
"How old was Nico?"
"Three weeks."
Mara's anger softened.
"I'm sorry."
Matteo looked out the window.
"Her name was Alessia."
"Were you married?"
"Yes."
That single word closed a door between them.
Mara looked down at Nico.
He had his father's dark hair, but his lashes were absurdly long.
"Did she know about all of this?"
"She knew enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
The SUV passed iron gates and entered a property larger than some public parks.
Mara stared out the window.
"Of course you live in a fortress."
"It's a house."
"It has a guard tower."
"Decorative."
"There is a man in it."
"Very committed to decoration."
This time Matteo actually smiled.
It changed his face so dramatically that Mara forgot what she was going to say.
Then the smile vanished.
The house itself was massive but strangely quiet. Stone. Glass. Dark wood. Too many rooms and almost no photographs.
Nico woke as soon as Mara stepped inside.
A woman in her sixties hurried toward them.
"Mr. DeLuca, thank God. He hasn't taken his evening bottle and—"
She stopped when she saw Mara.
Matteo said, "Rosa, this is Mara Bennett."
The woman's eyes widened.
"Bennett?"
Mara's stomach dropped.
"You know the name too?"
Rosa looked at Matteo.
He nodded once.
Rosa crossed herself.
Then, to Mara's shock, she began to cry.
"Your mother had your eyes."
Mara felt the floor disappear beneath her.
"You knew her?"
Rosa covered her mouth.
"I knew Evelyn."
Mara handed Nico to Matteo before her arms gave out.
"Everyone knew my mother except me."
Rosa reached for her, then stopped before touching her.
"She wanted you to have a life outside this house."
"This house?"
Rosa looked around.
"It was different then."
Matteo said quietly, "Rosa worked here when I was a child."
Mara felt something harden inside her.
"Fine. Then somebody is going to tell me the truth."
She pulled the pendant out from under her collar.
"No vague warnings. No dead men. No 'for your protection.' I want all of it."
Matteo met her eyes.
"Agreed."
Rosa looked frightened.
"Matteo—"
"No more secrets."
He led them into a library.
Mara noticed immediately what was missing.
No mirrors.
There were paintings, shelves, old maps, framed certificates, even a grandfather clock.
But no mirrors.
"Why?"
Matteo followed her gaze.
"My mother hated them after the fire."
Mara turned.
"You said she died in the fire."
He went still.
Rosa closed her eyes.
Mara's pulse kicked.
"Matteo."
He looked at Rosa.
Then back at Mara.
"I was told she died."
"That is not what you just said."
"No."
The room became impossibly quiet.
Mara whispered, "Your mother survived."
"For eleven days."
Rosa began crying again.
Matteo's voice was flat, but his hand tightened around the back of a chair.
"She was burned badly. I was nine. My father wouldn't let me see her."
Mara's throat tightened.
"Why did Evelyn have the pendant?"
"My mother gave it to her the night before she died."
"Why?"
Matteo looked at the necklace.
"Because there was something inside it."
Mara stared down.
"It's solid."
"No."
He walked to a desk, opened a drawer, and removed a tiny jeweler's pin.
"May I?"
This time Mara hesitated.
Then she unclasped the necklace herself and placed it in his palm.
His fingers closed around it carefully.
He turned the pendant over.
Near the bottom edge was a mark Mara had always thought was a scratch.
Matteo pressed the pin into it.
There was a click.
The pendant opened.
Mara stopped breathing.
Inside, folded smaller than a fingernail, was a strip of yellowed paper.
Rosa whispered, "Dear God."
Matteo unfolded it with both hands.
There were only three things written on it.
A bank name.
A box number.
And one sentence.
IF MARA IS ALIVE, VITTORIO LIED.
Mara stared at her own name.
Then at Matteo.
"Who is Vittorio?"
Matteo looked toward the dark window.
"My uncle."
"The one with the dragons?"
"Yes."
"Is he alive?"
May you like
Matteo's face became something colder than anger.
"Very."
