Chapter 2 - THE BLOOD ON THE SILVER
I had never seen Gabriel Romano truly frightened.
Angry, yes.
Cold, often.
Dangerous, according to everyone who knew him.
But frightened?
Never.
Until he saw the message on my phone.
We were sitting in the back of his black sedan outside the hotel.
He read the words twice.
Then looked at me.
“Who sent this?”
“I don't know.”
“Catherine.”
“I swear.”
He handed the phone back.
“Start at the beginning.”
I stared through the tinted window.
Snow had begun falling over Chicago.
Six months of marriage, and I still didn't know whether I could trust my husband with the truth.
Then I remembered my father's voice on the telephone.
I'm fine, sweetheart. Stop worrying about an old man.
I took a breath.
“Yesterday afternoon, I found Arthur in the hotel's storage corridor.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Arthur Bell?”
“The banquet supervisor.”
He nodded.
“Go on.”
“He was moving a locked equipment case. One of the wheels broke. The lid opened.”
I looked down at my bandaged hand.
“Inside were the missing Romano silver pieces.”
Gabriel went still.
I continued.
“Arthur panicked. He told me they were being transferred for cleaning. But the inventory tags had been removed.”
“Why were you in the corridor?”
“Isabella asked me to check the wedding favors. She was worried some boxes had been misplaced.”
Gabriel nodded.
I swallowed.
“Arthur tried to close the case. One of the silver serving pieces slipped out. I reached for it.”
My fingers tightened.
“The case fell against my hand.”
Gabriel's jaw hardened.
“Did Arthur help you?”
I shook my head.
“He grabbed the silver and told me to forget what I'd seen.”
“Then?”
“I went to the hotel manager. But Arthur was already there.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“What did he say?”
“That I'd been stealing.”
Silence.
I continued.
“He said I was trying to sell the silver and had injured myself when he caught me.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
I whispered:
“I didn't know what to do.”
“Why didn't you call me?”
I looked at him.
“You were in Milwaukee.”
“I would have come back.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Would you?”
He opened his eyes.
I regretted the words immediately.
But they were already between us.
Gabriel looked away.
Then said quietly:
“I've given you reasons to doubt that.”
I stared.
He continued.
“I thought keeping our marriage private would protect you.”
“From what?”
“My family. My business. The people who hate me.”
I looked down.
“It didn't.”
“No,” he admitted. “It didn't.”
We drove to the Romano estate.
Gabriel asked his security chief, Marco DeLuca, to verify my father's safety through a welfare check arranged with my father's consent.
He also instructed his attorney to preserve the hotel security footage and inventory records.
When we arrived home, Gabriel followed me into the library.
“Show me your hand.”
I hesitated.
He waited.
Finally, I held it out.
He carefully removed the outer bandage.
The skin around my knuckles was swollen and discolored.
A shallow cut crossed the back of my hand.
Gabriel stared.
Then whispered:
“Who did this?”
“The case fell.”
He looked up.
“Did Arthur push it?”
I swallowed.
“Yes.”
Gabriel went very still.
Then he reached for his phone.
I caught his wrist.
“Please don't hurt him.”
He looked at me.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Gabriel lowered the phone.
“I won't.”
I searched his face.
“Promise?”
He nodded.
May you like
“I promise.”
And for the first time since our wedding, I believed him.
