Chapter 1 - Breakfast for Three
Maeve shoved the third plate across the marble island and said, "Sit down before it gets cold."
Marco Falcone entered behind his brothers and placed a small silver key beside the plate.
There was a number scratched into the metal.
His expression changed.
This wasn't about breakfast anymore.
For half a second, nobody moved.
Maeve O'Connell stood at the kitchen island with a cast-iron skillet still warm in her left hand and a dish towel tucked beneath the string of her white apron. Her brown hair had escaped its loose bun in several places. There was flour near her elbow, grease on the apron, and enough roasted potatoes on the stove to feed six people.
She had expected servants.
Maybe the house manager.
Possibly the groundskeeper who had shown her the pantry the night before.
She had not expected the Falcone brothers themselves.
All three of them.
At once.
Marco stood in the center.
That was how Maeve knew immediately which brother carried the most authority.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark navy suit that looked too expensive for seven in the morning. His white shirt was open at the throat, revealing the edge of black ink across his chest.
To his left stood Luca in a black leather jacket over a charcoal shirt, a silver cross resting against his collarbone.
To Marco's right was Dante, dressed entirely in black, his shirt open at the neck and his expression less severe than his brothers' but somehow more dangerous because of it.
The three men looked at Maeve.
Then at the plates.
Eggs.
Bacon.
Crisp potatoes.
Fresh herbs.
Toast.
Maeve slowly lowered the skillet.
"Well?" she said.
Luca's eyebrows lifted.
Dante looked sideways at Marco.
Marco's gaze remained fixed on Maeve.
"Well what?"
"Are you eating?"
Nobody answered.
Maeve sighed.
"This is the strangest house I've ever worked in."
Luca actually blinked.
Dante's mouth moved at one corner.
Marco did not smile.
Maeve had been warned about them.
Everyone in the employment agency had warned her.
Falcone Manor needed domestic staff.
Falcone Manor always needed domestic staff.
The salary was nearly absurd.
Private room.
Meals included.
Benefits.
Paid time off.
And yet the agency woman had hesitated before handing Maeve the contract.
"There's one thing."
Maeve had expected a background check.
Maybe confidentiality agreements.
Instead, the woman had whispered, "Nobody lasts."
Maeve remembered laughing.
"What does that mean?"
"The record is forty-eight hours."
That had sounded ridiculous.
Now, standing in front of three men who looked like they had never been told to sit down in their own lives, Maeve understood why the record might be true.
Marco glanced toward the clock.
"You've been here thirty-one hours."
"Are you timing me?"
"We time everyone."
"That's creepy."
Luca coughed.
Dante looked down.
Maeve realized he was hiding a smile.
Marco's expression sharpened.
"You don't seem concerned."
"I've had scarier landlords."
That earned her a real reaction.
Luca stared.
Dante laughed once.
Short.
Almost surprised by the sound.
Marco's eyes narrowed.
Maeve pointed at the stools opposite the island.
"Sit."
Luca looked at Marco.
Maeve caught it.
She put both hands on her hips.
"Does he give you permission to eat eggs?"
Dante turned away, shoulders shaking.
Luca muttered, "I like her."
"You've known her thirty seconds," Marco said.
"That's twenty-nine seconds longer than it took me to dislike the last maid."
Maeve pushed Luca's plate closer.
"Eat."
He sat.
Dante followed.
Marco remained standing.
Maeve picked up his plate.
For a moment, they stared at each other.
Then she carried it toward him.
"Mr. Falcone."
"Marco."
"Fine. Marco. I got up at five-thirty because your refrigerator looked like three bachelor men had declared war on vegetables."
Dante murmured, "Accurate."
"I cooked breakfast. You're going to eat it."
Marco looked at the plate.
Then at Maeve.
"Are you always this commanding?"
"Only before coffee."
His gaze stayed on her another second.
Then Marco sat.
Maeve turned away before they could see the tiny smile she couldn't suppress.
She poured coffee.
Three cups.
Black for Marco.
She had noticed yesterday that the used espresso cup on his office desk had no sugar residue.
A splash of milk for Luca because the night kitchen staff had left a carton beside his cup.
Two sugars for Dante because she had found three empty wrappers next to the machine.
Dante watched her place his cup down.
"How did you know?"
"Observation."
Luca took a bite of potatoes.
His expression immediately changed.
Maeve noticed.
She pretended not to.
"Good?" she asked.
Luca swallowed.
"No."
Maeve frowned.
He stabbed another potato.
"Terrible."
Dante stole one from his plate.
Luca slapped his hand away.
Maeve laughed.
The sound felt strangely loud in the enormous kitchen.
Marco had still not eaten.
Instead, he was watching Maeve.
Not suspiciously.
Studying her.
Maeve had been studied by wealthy people before.
She had spent five years cooking in private homes after leaving restaurant kitchens.
She knew the look.
People deciding whether the woman in the apron belonged in their world.
She never cared.
Finally Marco cut into his egg.
He took a bite.
No reaction.
Another bite.
Then bacon.
Maeve turned toward the stove.
Behind her, Dante said, "He likes it."
Marco said, "Dante."
"He only gets that angry when he's enjoying something."
Maeve looked over her shoulder.
Marco's plate was already half empty.
She smiled.
"You could just say thank you."
Marco stared at her.
"Thank you."
It surprised everyone.
Including him.
Maeve picked up her coffee.
"You're welcome."
For several minutes, the kitchen became almost normal.
Three brothers eating.
Maeve cleaning.
Sunlight spreading across the marble floor.
Luca asked for more potatoes.
Dante asked what was in them.
Maeve refused to tell him.
"A family secret."
"You have family?"
The question came casually from Dante.
But something in it tightened Maeve's shoulders.
"Not much."
Marco noticed.
He noticed everything.
Dante noticed his brother noticing.
And immediately changed subjects.
"Why did you take this job?"
"Money."
Luca laughed.
"Finally, an honest employee."
Maeve shrugged.
"I need work. You need someone who won't run away because you glare dramatically at breakfast."
Marco leaned back.
"You believe that's why people leave?"
Maeve stopped wiping the counter.
There was something underneath the question.
"Isn't it?"
Nobody answered.
The silence changed.
Not threatening.
Heavier.
Maeve looked between them.
"What happened to the other maids?"
Luca placed his fork down.
Dante's eyes moved toward Marco.
Marco said, "They quit."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Within forty-eight hours?"
"Usually sooner."
Maeve folded the towel.
"Why?"
Marco's jaw tightened.
"Ask them."
"I can't. They aren't here."
Luca pushed away from the island.
"Marco."
A warning.
Maeve heard it.
Marco ignored him.
"Some people discover this house isn't what they expected."
Maeve thought about the agency woman's pale face.
The abandoned suitcase she had seen in the storage room.
The bedroom assigned to her had contained an empty drawer with a pair of earrings somebody had forgotten.
People left quickly.
Too quickly.
Yet the brothers did not behave like men who enjoyed terrorizing staff.
Intimidating?
Certainly.
Dangerous?
Almost definitely.
But Luca had thanked the housekeeper for fresh towels when he thought nobody was listening.
Dante had carried two grocery boxes into the pantry himself.
And Marco had paid a gardener's hospital bill, according to the gardener.
Something didn't fit.
Maeve looked down at the island.
That was when she noticed the key.
Small.
Silver.
Old.
It sat underneath the rim of Marco's plate.
Maeve frowned.
"Did you put that there?"
Marco followed her gaze.
His entire body changed.
Luca stood immediately.
Dante stopped smiling.
Marco picked up the key.
"What?"
Maeve pointed.
"That was under your plate."
Marco turned it over.
On the flat metal head, someone had scratched two digits.
Luca swore.
Dante looked toward the kitchen door.
Marco stood.
"Maeve."
"What?"
"Did you touch this?"
"No."
"Did anyone enter the kitchen while you were cooking?"
"The pantry delivery guy."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Tall. Gray jacket. He brought flour."
Luca moved instantly.
He crossed the room and opened the pantry.
Empty.
Dante took out his phone.
Marco stared at Maeve.
"Describe him."
"I barely looked at him."
"Try."
"Maybe forty. Brown hair. Baseball cap."
Marco's eyes hardened.
"Staff deliveries don't come through the kitchen."
Maeve's stomach dropped.
Dante spoke quietly into his phone.
"Lock the gates."
Maeve stared.
"Marco, what is going on?"
He slipped the key into his palm.
"Go upstairs."
"No."
"This isn't a discussion."
"Then don't make it sound like one."
Luca returned.
"Nobody in the pantry."
Dante lowered his phone.
"The cameras cut out at 6:41."
Maeve felt the first true chill since arriving.
"What does forty-eight mean?"
Nobody answered.
Maeve looked at Marco.
His face had lost every trace of amusement.
"Marco."
He finally met her eyes.
"The last maid who stayed exactly forty-eight hours disappeared."
Maeve stopped breathing.
"Disappeared?"
"Her name was Elena Russo."
Luca said, "We thought she ran."
"Until?" Maeve asked.
Silence.
Marco opened his hand again.
The key rested against his palm.
"We found her car three weeks later."
Maeve swallowed.
"Where?"
Dante looked at her.
"At the bottom of a quarry."
Maeve stared at them.
"And nobody told me this before I accepted the job?"
"We didn't know somebody would target you."
"Target me?"
Marco's voice went quiet.
"The number wasn't for Elena."
Maeve looked at the key again.
Marco turned it over.
There were tiny letters scratched beneath the 48.
Fresh marks.
Two initials.
M.O.
Maeve O'Connell.
The kitchen seemed to shrink around her.
Marco looked toward the windows.
Then toward the hallway.
His next words came almost under his breath.
"You're not leaving my sight."
A phone rang.
Not Marco's.
Not Luca's.
Not Dante's.
Maeve slowly looked toward her apron.
She had left her phone upstairs.
The ringing came from inside the pantry.
Luca opened the door.
A cheap black phone lay on the floor.
Its screen showed one incoming call.
The caller ID contained only one name.
MAEVE.
Marco reached for the phone.
The ringing stopped.
A message appeared.
OPEN THE DOOR UNDER THE STAIRS.
Maeve looked toward the hallway.
A soft click echoed through the manor.
May you like
The hidden door beneath the staircase had just unlocked itself.
And someone was standing on the other side.
