Chapter 5 - The Hallway Confrontation
I waited five full minutes in the suffocating darkness of the linen annex, counting the seconds in my head to ensure the guards had truly cleared the wing. When I finally pushed the door open and stepped back out onto the hallway carpet, my muscles were coiled tight, ready to bolt back toward the service stairs.
I turned the corner toward the landing—and slammed straight into a solid wall of black wool and cold authority.
Hands caught my upper arms instantly, steadying me with effortless strength. I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat. Luca Moretti stood towering over me, his tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, his white shirt collar slightly askew, and his intense dark eyes burning down into mine. The neck tattoos snaked up past his collar, stark against his pale skin under the amber chandelier light. He hadn't gone back to the gala. He had been waiting here in the shadows.
"Running away from your cleaning duties, Rachel?" Luca’s voice was dangerously low, lacking any trace of the polite charm he wore for his guests downstairs. It was the voice of a man who ruled a criminal empire with absolute, unyielding iron.
"I took a wrong turn coming off the service lift, sir," I managed to say, forcing my voice to remain level despite the fierce trembling in my hands. I kept my gaze fixed on the knot of his open-collared shirt, refusing to cower, even as every survival instinct screamed at me to look away.
Luca tilted his head slightly, studying my face with a terrifying intensity, searching for the defiance that had caused me to scream out in the middle of his engagement reception. His fingers tightened fractionally around my arms before he let go, stepping back just enough to block my only path of escape.
"Wrong turns don't bring people to the eastern residential corridor," Luca said softly, his gaze shifting past my shoulder toward the plain wooden door at the end of the hall. "People come up here because they're looking for ghosts. Or because they talk to people they shouldn't."
The air between us grew thick and suffocating. This was the moment of absolute reckoning. I could lie and seal my fate as a terrified, incompetent maid, or I could stand my ground and risk everything on the truth.
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"The music stopped for a reason, Mr. Moretti," I whispered, finally lifting my eyes to meet his dead-on. "And she remembers the words."
Luca’s expression didn't soften; instead, his jaw tightened sharply, a muscle ticking violently in his cheek as the realization of what I had discovered finally settled over him.
