Chapter 6 - The Golden Clock in the Locker
The grand foyer of Villa Duca was vast enough to swallow an orchestra, but with Lorenzo standing on the checkerboard marble, the space felt as claustrophobic as an interrogation cell.
Renata lowered her trembling hand from her mouth, her fingers curling into tight, frantic claws against the fabric of her white apron. She swallowed hard, forcing her rigid posture back into alignment, trying desperately to summon the cold, bureaucratic authority that had kept the servants trembling for eight years. But her chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked rasps beneath her stiff linen dress.
“Mr. Duca, please… you misunderstand,” Renata began, her American accent clipped, her voice wavering despite her best efforts. “I was handling an internal crisis. A matter of severe domestic discipline. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were closing the logistics contracts in the city.”
“Disturb me?” Lorenzo asked. His tone was deceptively light, almost conversational, yet he had not shifted Mia an inch on his hip. His right hand remained casually at his side, resting inches above the iron studs of Pino’s collar. “You think an arrest under my roof doesn't concern me, Renata?”
“It was grand larceny, sir,” Renata said quickly, the words tumbling out as she gained false momentum. She pointed a manicured finger toward the service corridor behind the grand staircase. “The French carriage clock. The eighteenth-century gold piece from the salon. I conducted a routine search of the staff lockers after lunch when the salon was found unlocked. We found it wrapped in a cleaning cloth… hidden at the bottom of Elena Rossi’s personal locker.”
Mia whimpered against Lorenzo’s neck, her small body stiffening. “Mommy didn’t! Mommy didn’t do it!”
“Hush, child,” Renata snapped instinctively, her eyes flashing with venom before she caught herself and shrank back from Lorenzo’s darkening expression. “Mr. Duca, the evidence was absolute. Her locker was locked with her personal padlock. The clock was in her bag. Security detained her until the authorities arrive. I was merely following the protocol established for employee theft.”
“Protocol,” Lorenzo repeated.
He stepped fully into the foyer, his polished shoes clicking against the black-and-white marble. Pino followed, his claws clicking like dice on the stone, his eyes never leaving Renata’s trembling knees.
“Whose protocol, Renata?” Lorenzo murmured, stopping two feet from her. “Because last I checked, there is only one man who establishes protocol in this house. And that man does not put a mother in irons while her four-year-old daughter weeps behind garden trash.”
Renata’s breath caught. “I… I assumed you would want the matter handled swiftly.”
“Where is the clock now?”
“In the service office downstairs, sir. Tagged for the police.”
“And where is Elena?”
“Detained in the security office in the sub-level,” Renata whispered, her eyes darting toward the heavy mahogany doors of the library as though hoping someone would emerge to dilute the suffocating pressure in the room.
Lorenzo looked down at Mia. The little girl was watching him with wide, tear-stained eyes, her cheek still pressed against his dark collar. He reached up with his right hand, gently tucking a stray light-brown curl behind her ear, avoiding the lopsided white ribbon.
“Let’s go see your mother, Mia,” Lorenzo said softly, the gentle cadence returning to his voice as if Renata were no longer standing in the room.
May you like
He turned his gaze back to the housekeeper, his eyes turning to black ice. “Lead the way, Renata. And if you make a sound above a whisper, I will let Pino decide what protocol suits your behavior.”
Renata blanched. She turned on her black pumps, her knees visibly trembling beneath her long dress, and led the master of the house down the carpeted service corridor toward the basement stairs.
