Chapter 6 - THE EXIT AND THE ORDER
Carmine didn't reach out to grab her wrist. He didn't order his men to stop her. He simply sat motionless, one hand still pressed flat against the white tablecloth, his dark eyes tracking every inch of her movement as she turned on her heel.
Nell walked with swift, silent, controlled steps toward the side staff door—a discreet mahogany panel built flush into the dining room's wainscoting. She pushed the brass crash bar with her hip, stepped through the threshold, and let the door swing shut behind her with a soft, padded thud.
The moment the door closed, the heavy tension in the dining room slowly began to dissipate.
The guests let out long, quiet breaths, looking at one another with bewildered smiles as they picked up their wine glasses once more. The shipping executive cleared his throat, making a loud, forced joke about the eccentricity of domestic help, and within thirty seconds, the polite chatter and clinking of crystal resumed around the forty-foot table.
Carmine remained completely still.
He sat at the head of the table, his plate half-eaten, his hand flat against the white linen, staring directly at the closed mahogany staff door. He didn't touch his wine. He didn't speak to the alderman sitting to his left who was trying to pitch a municipal dock construction contract.
Only after the dinner conversation reached a comfortable, noisy volume did Carmine raise his left hand from the table, making a small, barely perceptible curling motion with his index finger.
Across the room, Benny Santino moved instantly.
Benny walked with quiet, cat-like steps along the perimeter of the room, stepping behind Carmine’s chair and leaning down until his ear was two inches from the boss's mouth.
"That girl," Carmine murmured, his voice so low it was completely swallowed by the sound of the guests' laughter.
Benny’s eyes narrowed as he kept his gaze fixed on the side door. "Carmine?"
"Bring me her personnel file tomorrow morning," Carmine commanded softly. "Every application form, every reference check, every tax record she handed to Odette three years ago."
Benny’s expression shifted, his jaw tightening as he realized the weight of the request. "You think she's a plant?"
Carmine slowly reached down, picked up his silver dessert fork, and turned it over in his hand, watching the chandelier light glint off the polished prongs.
"I think the maid who has been invisible in my house for three years," Carmine whispered, "just remembered how her father made pie for the men who killed him."
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Benny swallowed hard, offering a single, firm nod. "Consider it done."
Carmine looked back toward the closed mahogany door, a faint, dark, unreadable smile touching the corner of his lips as the ghost of an old war knocked softly at his door.
