Chapter 2 - Blood Is Not Permission
Rocco Moretti was drinking bourbon in the west lounge when Carmine found him.
I didn’t see what happened.
I heard about it later.
Apparently, Carmine entered alone.
Rocco smiled.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Carmine shut the door.
“Stand up.”
Rocco laughed.
“Why?”
“Stand up.”
Something in Carmine’s voice erased the smile.
Rocco rose.
“What’s this about?”
“Claire.”
Silence.
Then Rocco shrugged.
“The maid?”
Carmine stepped closer.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“She has your fingerprints on her throat.”
Rocco’s expression changed.
“She attacked me.”
“Interesting.”
“She kicked me.”
“After?”
“After what?”
Carmine stared at him.
Rocco picked up his bourbon.
“Come on, Carmine. She’s staff.”
The glass never reached his mouth.
Carmine took it from him and placed it carefully on the table.
“She is a person employed in my home.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
Rocco rolled his eyes.
“She’s trying to get money.”
“She asked me not to confront you.”
That silenced him.
“She asked me not to call the police. She asked me not to call a doctor. She asked me not to hurt you.”
Carmine stepped closer.
“Do you know what she never asked for?”
Rocco said nothing.
“This.”
Rocco’s jaw tightened.
“You’re choosing some maid over your own blood?”
Carmine’s voice became colder.
“Blood is not permission.”
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
Rocco laughed nervously.
“You going to throw me out because a girl cried?”
“No.”
Rocco relaxed.
Then Carmine continued.
“I’m throwing you out because you attacked someone under my roof and threatened her using my name.”
Rocco’s face hardened.
“You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
“You owe my father.”
“I owed your father.”
Carmine stepped back.
“He’s dead.”
Two security men entered.
Rocco stared at them.
“You planned this?”
“I made one phone call.”
“Carmine—”
“Your accounts connected to Moretti holdings are frozen.”
Rocco went pale.
“Your access credentials are canceled.”
“You son of a—”
“Your apartment downtown belongs to one of my companies.”
Rocco’s mouth opened.
“The car downstairs belongs to another.”
Carmine pointed toward the door.
“You have the clothes you’re wearing and whatever money is legally yours.”
Rocco’s face twisted.
“Over her?”
“No.”
Carmine leaned closer.
“Because of you.”
Rocco shoved past the guards.
At the doorway, he turned.
“You think she’s innocent?”
Carmine’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Rocco smiled.
“Ask your little maid why she really came here.”
Then he walked out.
By the time Carmine returned to the basement kitchen, the house physician had arrived.
I had finally agreed to be examined.
Dr. Levin pressed carefully along my ribs.
“Nothing feels displaced. You’ll need imaging if the pain worsens.”
Carmine stood near the door.
Watching.
Dr. Levin checked my throat.
“Bruising. No immediate sign of airway damage, but if swallowing becomes difficult, hospital. No debate.”
“Okay.”
He packed his bag.
“Someone should stay nearby tonight.”
“I’ll ask Mrs. Bell.”
“No,” Carmine said.
Both of us looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“I’ll have Mrs. Bell move Claire to a guest room near the staff supervisor.”
I frowned.
“I have my room.”
“You’re not going back there tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because Rocco had access to staff quarters.”
“He’s gone.”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Carmine’s eyes held mine.
“The problem is what he said before leaving.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He waited until Dr. Levin left.
Then closed the door.
“Rocco told me to ask why you really came here.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I came here because Mrs. Bell hired me.”
“How did you meet her?”
“A woman at the hospital gave me her number.”
“What woman?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember the person who connected you to this house?”
“My mother was dying.”
That stopped him.
“I was sleeping three hours a night. Talking to doctors, insurance companies, collectors. Some woman heard me crying in the cafeteria and said she knew a housekeeper who paid cash.”
Carmine’s expression changed.
“What did she look like?”
“Blonde. Maybe fifty.”
“Name?”
“I don’t remember.”
Carmine pulled out his phone.
“Mrs. Bell.”
A pause.
“Come to the basement kitchen.”
He hung up.
“What are you thinking?”
“That Rocco wanted me suspicious of you.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s afraid of something.”
Mrs. Bell arrived five minutes later.
She looked at my face and gasped.
“My God.”
Carmine ignored the reaction.
“Who referred Claire?”
Mrs. Bell frowned.
“Nobody.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“You called me directly,” she said.
“No.”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Mrs. Bell looked at Carmine.
“I received a call from Claire. She said someone at St. Vincent’s gave her my number.”
Carmine slowly turned toward me.
I whispered, “I never called you.”
The room became very quiet.
Carmine asked Mrs. Bell one question.
“Do you still have the number?”
She pulled out her phone.
Thirty seconds later, Carmine was staring at the screen.
His face changed.
“Whose number is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Carmine.”
He finally looked at me.
“It belonged to my brother.”
My mouth went dry.
“Which brother?”
His answer came softly.
“Anthony.”
I waited.
Carmine’s eyes stayed on mine.
May you like
“He’s been dead for three years.”
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