"THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE CALLED ME “A STUPID LITTLE MAID” WHEN I PULLED A HALF-BURNED WOODEN BOX FROM THE FIREPLACE—BUT WHEN LUCA SAW WHO HAD CARVED “FOR DAD” INTO THE LID, HE STOOD UP.

My left hand was shaking as I extended the box toward him. Luca transferred his champagne glass to his right hand and gently took the wooden craft with his free hand. He treated it as if it were spun from fragile glass, utterly ignoring the soot that was now staining his expensive tailored suit.

He stared at the scorched, blackened corner. He traced the rough, unsanded edges with his thumb. Then, slowly, he turned the box over.

His thumb came to a dead stop over the tiny initials burned into the bottom of the wood.

A.M.

For several long, agonizing seconds, Luca didn't speak. The silence in the library was so profound I could hear the crackle of the flames behind me and the ragged sound of my own breathing. I glanced at Vanessa. She was standing perfectly still, her face pale, realizing she had severely miscalculated the situation.

“Where did Matteo get this wood?” Luca asked, his voice deceptively quiet.

I looked toward Vanessa. She was watching me intently, her eyes wide, flashing a desperate, violent warning. Keep your mouth shut, her look screamed.

Luca noticed my hesitation. His eyes flicked to Vanessa, reading the silent threat in the room, before locking back onto me.

“Claire,” he commanded, the edge of the syndicate boss bleeding into his tone. “Answer me.”

“From your father’s workbench, sir,” I said quickly. “Underneath it.”

His expression shifted, a wave of profound emotion washing over his hardened features. “He made this in Dad’s garage?”

“Yes, sir.”

Luca swallowed hard. “Where is Matteo right now?”

“Upstairs in his room,” I replied softly.

Vanessa let out a high, nervous laugh, stepping forward and reaching for Luca’s arm again. “Luca, honey, he’s just being dramatic. I told him the box wasn't appropriate for the gift table tonight. You know how children get. He’s throwing a little tantrum.”

Luca didn't look at her. He slowly turned his head to face her, his expression utterly unreadable. “What happened to it?”

Nobody answered. Vanessa swallowed loudly.

Luca looked back at me. For the first time, his eyes drifted from the box to my right hand. He saw the bright red, blistering skin. He saw the soot smeared across my palm. Then, he looked at the blackened, smoking corner of his son’s gift.

His voice dropped to a terrifying whisper.

“Claire.”