Chapter 5 - Take It Off
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Luca Moretti was standing near the head of the table, speaking with a city alderman. When the piano rolled into the room, he stopped mid-sentence.
He slowly lowered his crystal champagne glass to the table.
His dark, calculating eyes went first to the piano. He stared at the worn black lacquer. Then, his gaze dropped to the exposed, damaged keyboard. Finally, his eyes lifted and locked dead onto Vanessa’s hair.
The silence in the dining room was absolute and suffocating. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared to even breathe too loudly.
Luca walked slowly toward the instrument. His expensive leather shoes made no sound on the marble. He stopped in front of it and gently touched the dusty lid.
“My mother’s piano,” Luca whispered. The vulnerability in his voice was jarring, completely at odds with the ruthless mafia boss the city feared.
Vanessa forced a high, nervous laugh. She stepped away from the table.
“Darling,” Vanessa said smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. “It was supposed to be removed hours ago. It’s an eyesore.”
Luca ignored her. He looked down at the damaged keyboard. His expression changed from soft nostalgia to a cold, terrifying stillness.
“Who did this?” Luca asked. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.
Vanessa immediately looked at me.
“You stupid little maid,” Vanessa hissed, pointing a trembling finger toward the service hall. “Get it out of here right now!”
I didn’t move. I stood with my hands still resting on the side of the piano, holding my ground.
Luca moved.
He took three slow steps toward Vanessa. He didn't touch her. He didn't yell. He simply raised his hand and pointed directly at her blonde hair.
“Take it off,” Luca commanded.
Vanessa’s fake smile completely disappeared. She went pale. “Luca, please, we have guests—”
“Take. It. Off.”
Trembling, realizing she had completely lost control of the room, Vanessa slowly reached up and pulled the comb from her hair. Six pieces of polished ivory caught the chandelier light. She held it in her palm, offering it to him.
Luca didn’t take it. He stared at the comb in her hand.
“Where did you get those?” Luca asked, his voice dead flat.
Vanessa swallowed hard. “Luca, please don’t make a scene.”
“Where?”
“A designer in Paris made it.”
“From what?”
She looked around nervously at the silent guests watching her humiliation. “Old ivory. Just scraps.”
I couldn't stay silent anymore.
“Sir,” I spoke up, my voice shaking but clear.
Vanessa snapped her head toward me. “Emma! Shut your mouth!”
Luca raised one hand without looking at her. Vanessa instantly stopped talking. He finally turned his dark eyes to me.
“Talk,” Luca ordered.
May you like
I stepped forward and pointed toward the comb in Vanessa’s shaking hand.
“One of the pieces has a blue ink stain on the edge,” I said.
