Chapter 1 - The Woman with the Pitcher
“Get on your knees and apologize,” Celeste Vale snapped. “Or I'll make sure your daughter never sees you work in this town again.”
Mateo Reyes was already on his knees. The marble beneath him had soaked through the thin fabric of his uniform, and one of his hands shook as he held a ruined envelope against his chest.
In the center of Blackthorn Hall's golden hallway, Celeste lifted a glass pitcher filled with cloudy white liquid and clinking ice. Her white dress looked as if it belonged in a wedding magazine. Her voice belonged somewhere much uglier.
“You stole from me,” she said. “Say it.”
“I didn't steal anything, ma'am.”
“You were in my private sitting room.”
“Because you told me to deliver that envelope.”
Celeste took one step toward him. “Nobody is going to believe a servant over me.”
“Then they'll believe me,” someone said from the open doorway.
Adrian Blackthorn stood beneath the afternoon light in a black suit, his expression unreadable. He had returned from New York two days early. Celeste's face transformed so fast it frightened Mateo more than her shouting had.
“Adrian. Thank God. I caught him trying to steal your mother's papers.”
Adrian didn't look at her. He looked at the envelope, its edge wet and torn.
“What papers?”
“Old nonsense. Nothing important.”
“Then why is he kneeling?”
Celeste shifted the pitcher to her other hand. “He became aggressive.”
Mateo stared at her. He had barely spoken since she dragged him out of the service corridor.
Adrian crossed the marble slowly. “Stand up, Mateo.”
Celeste's eyes flashed. “You're taking his side?”
“I'm asking why a man who has worked here eighteen years is on the floor.”
Mateo rose, painful inch by painful inch. Adrian noticed a fresh red mark around his wrist. He noticed the wet envelope. And he noticed the pitcher.
“What's in that?” Adrian asked.
“Lemonade,” Celeste said too quickly.
Adrian regarded the cloudy liquid. “My mother hated lemonade.”
“I know.” Celeste swallowed. “It's for the guests.”
Adrian adjusted the front of his jacket, then turned away. At the third step, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
May you like
“Then explain why my mother's hospital bracelet is frozen inside one of those ice cubes.”
The glass slipped half an inch in Celeste's hand.
