Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Wouldn’t Bow
Camille did not sleep well.
She told herself it was because of the message.
It wasn’t.
The message was disturbing.
Lucian’s reaction was worse.
He had read it twice.
Then he had ordered a driver to take Camille home.
She refused.
He had ordered two guards to follow her.
She refused again.
Finally, after five minutes of arguing on the front steps, Lucian had said something Camille suspected few people ever heard from him.
“Please let me make sure you get home safely.”
So she agreed.
Not because he intimidated her.
Because he had asked.
At ten the next morning, Camille returned.
Matteo met her at the door.
“You came back.”
“I have a contract.”
“You received a threat.”
“I’ve received worse Yelp reviews.”
Matteo blinked.
Then laughed.
Camille handed him her coat.
“Where’s your brother?”
“In his office terrorizing six grown men.”
“Before lunch?”
“He’s efficient.”
Camille entered the dining room.
The silverware had been replaced.
She noticed immediately.
Every piece.
New set.
Different design.
Lucian entered five minutes later.
He wore a charcoal suit today instead of the burgundy shirt.
No tie.
His sleeves were buttoned.
His tattoos were mostly hidden.
Camille disliked how good he looked.
That annoyed her.
“Sit,” Lucian said.
Camille remained standing.
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Please sit.”
She sat.
Matteo whispered, “This is incredible.”
Lucian ignored him.
He placed the envelope on the table.
“We need to discuss this.”
Camille glanced at it.
“I already know what it says.”
“I want to know who might send it.”
“So do I.”
“Have you received anything similar?”
“No.”
“Enemies?”
“I teach manners for a living.”
Matteo leaned back.
“You’d be surprised.”
Camille gave him a look.
“Have you had any disputes with clients?” Lucian asked.
“Not ones involving engraved silver and mysterious notes.”
Lucian rested both hands on the table.
“Someone knew you were here.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It became your problem when they wrote your name.”
Camille leaned forward.
“No. It became my problem when you decided you could investigate my life without asking.”
Lucian paused.
Matteo looked between them.
“Did he?”
Camille turned.
“Your brother had someone call my office manager at seven this morning.”
Matteo winced.
“Oh.”
Lucian remained composed.
“I needed information.”
“You needed permission.”
“I don’t ask permission when someone may be in danger.”
Camille stood.
“Then we have a bigger etiquette problem than I thought.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
“Camille.”
“You hired me to teach your brother how to function in respectable society.”
“Yes.”
“Respectable society includes boundaries.”
“This isn’t a dinner party.”
“Neither is my private life.”
Lucian stood too.
He towered over her.
Camille refused to move.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Lucian surprised her.
“You’re right.”
Matteo dropped his fork.
Camille stared.
Lucian looked uncomfortable.
“I should have asked.”
Matteo whispered, “Write down the date.”
Lucian turned slowly.
Matteo raised both hands.
Camille sat again.
“Thank you.”
Lucian did too.
That was the first moment Camille understood something important.
Lucian was capable of changing.
He just had never been required to.
People around him obeyed.
They feared consequences.
They anticipated moods.
Camille did none of those things.
And, against all logic, Lucian seemed to respect her more for it.
The lesson resumed.
Camille had Matteo practice formal introductions.
He failed intentionally.
She made him repeat them.
He exaggerated an aristocratic accent.
She made him repeat them again.
By the eighth attempt, he surrendered.
During lunch, Lucian remained.
Camille suspected he was pretending to read messages on his phone.
He listened to everything.
“Matteo,” Camille said, “why did your brother hire me?”
“To ruin my life.”
“Seriously.”
Matteo glanced at Lucian.
Lucian’s expression hardened.
Camille noticed.
“There’s an event,” Matteo said.
“What event?”
“Foundation dinner.”
Lucian answered this time.
“In three weeks.”
Camille looked between them.
“What foundation?”
“My mother’s.”
That surprised her.
Lucian rarely mentioned family.
“What does it support?”
“Women leaving abusive households,” Matteo said.
Lucian’s gaze shifted toward him.
There was a warning there.
Camille caught it.
“And why does Matteo need etiquette coaching for a charity dinner?”
Neither man responded.
Camille sighed.
“Every secret in this house could fill a filing cabinet.”
Matteo leaned forward.
“There are donors coming who don’t like me.”
“Why?”
“I’ve given them reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Starting a fistfight at last year’s dinner.”
Camille stared.
Matteo shrugged.
“He insulted our mother.”
Lucian said, “You broke his nose.”
“He deserved it.”
Camille rubbed her forehead.
“Wonderful.”
Matteo smiled.
“Now you understand why you’re here.”
“No.”
Camille looked at Lucian.
“I understand why you think I’m here.”
Lucian’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Matteo has impulse-control problems.”
“Obviously.”
“But his anger has a trigger.”
Matteo stopped smiling.
Camille continued.
“Every time he loses control, it has something to do with family.”
Lucian said nothing.
“So maybe teaching him which fork to use isn’t the real problem.”
“What is?” Matteo asked.
Camille looked at Lucian.
“Whatever nobody in this house is allowed to talk about.”
Silence.
Matteo leaned back.
Lucian stared at Camille.
There was something behind his eyes now.
Not anger.
Fear.
He stood abruptly.
“Lesson over.”
Camille frowned.
“We have forty minutes.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“It is in my house.”
“No. That’s exactly the problem.”
Lucian turned toward the doorway.
Camille followed him.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere you aren’t.”
“Excellent manners.”
He stopped.
Matteo remained at the table.
Camille could feel the younger man watching them.
Lucian lowered his voice.
“Leave this alone.”
“Leave what alone?”
“My family.”
“You brought me into your family.”
“I brought you here for Matteo.”
“And I’m telling you Matteo isn’t the source.”
Lucian stepped closer.
“You know nothing about him.”
“I know he uses jokes when he’s nervous.”
Lucian’s expression changed.
“I know he looks at you before answering anything important.”
Another change.
“I know the moment your mother was mentioned, both of you stopped breathing.”
Lucian said nothing.
“And I know you hired a manners coach because controlling napkin placement is easier than having an honest conversation with your brother.”
Lucian stared down at her.
Camille expected anger.
Instead, he looked exhausted.
Just for one second.
Then the mask returned.
“Go home.”
Camille picked up her bag.
“Gladly.”
She made it halfway down the hall before Matteo called her name.
He had followed.
Lucian had disappeared into his office.
Matteo looked pale.
“You shouldn’t have mentioned my mother.”
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“She died eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t an accident.”
Camille went still.
Matteo continued.
“And Lucian thinks it happened because of him.”
Camille stared toward the closed office door.
“What happened?”
Matteo shook his head.
“He’ll never tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s spent eight years making sure nobody can use the truth against us.”
A sound came from Lucian’s office.
Something shattered.
Matteo flinched.
Then one of the guards hurried down the hallway carrying a laptop.
“Mr. Moretti.”
Lucian opened the office door.
The guard turned the screen toward him.
Camille could not see what was displayed.
She saw Lucian’s face.
The color drained from it.
Matteo stepped closer.
“What?”
Lucian stared at the screen.
A video had been sent to him.
The timestamp was from eight years earlier.
May you like
And in the frozen first frame stood his dead mother.
Beside her was Camille.
