The Door Behind the White Roses
Chapter 01 - The Door Behind the White Roses
Five more steps.
That was all I needed to reach the dining table.
But my left ankle was swollen inside my black shoe, and every time I put my weight on it, pain shot up my leg.
The crystal vase was getting heavier.
My hands were slipping.
And twenty-four guests were watching me struggle beneath the chandeliers of Luca Moretti's Chicago mansion.
“Careful, Natalie. Those arrangements cost more than your monthly salary.”
Vanessa Bellini didn't bother lowering her voice.
I tightened my grip on the vase.
“I'm sorry, ma'am.”
“Then stop dragging your feet.”
I tried to take another step.
My injured ankle buckled.
The vase tilted dangerously toward Luca Moretti's dinner plate.
Before I could catch it, a man's hand closed around the glass.
“Put it down.”
Luca Moretti had risen from his chair.
And he wasn't looking at the flowers.
He was looking at my left foot.
My name is Natalie Brooks.
I was twenty-nine, worked as a housemaid at the Moretti estate, and had spent the last four hours pretending I hadn't badly injured my ankle.
Normally, I could carry those flowers across the dining room without thinking.
Tonight, I could barely walk.
But my landlord was expecting the rest of my rent on Friday.
Missing another shift wasn't an option.
And Vanessa had already warned me that if I mentioned what happened that afternoon, I'd be looking for another job by morning.
So I'd put on my uniform.
Pulled my swollen foot into my shoe.
And gone back to work.
At the head of the table sat Luca Moretti.
Thirty-nine.
Black suit.
White shirt.
The kind of man who remembered which employees had sick children and which business associates were lying before they finished speaking.
Beside him sat Vanessa.
Red silk gown.
Diamond earrings.
A beautiful smile that hadn't left her face since the guests arrived.
Luca steadied the vase.
“Natalie.”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Why are you limping?”
Before I could answer, Vanessa gave a little laugh.
“She fell in the flower cooler this afternoon. Apparently, walking on a wet floor is beyond her abilities.”
My heart nearly stopped.
Luca slowly turned toward his fiancée.
“The flower cooler?”
“Yes, darling. The florist had her fetching more roses.”
I stared at the tablecloth.
Because Vanessa had just mentioned the one room she'd ordered me never to enter again.
Luca looked back at me.
“Did you fall?”
I could feel Vanessa watching.
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“Around four.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“Getting more flowers.”
Vanessa immediately added, “She was helping the florist arrange the centerpieces.”
Luca glanced toward the enormous vase.
Then back at Vanessa.
“You saw her fall?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know where it happened?”
Vanessa smiled.
“She told me.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“Did you?”
My mouth went dry.
“Yes.”
The answer came too slowly.
Luca noticed.
“Take off your shoe.”
My heart started pounding.
“It's really nothing, sir.”
“Natalie.”
His voice wasn't louder.
That somehow made refusing harder.
Slowly, I slipped my left foot out of my shoe.
The swelling was immediately visible.
A dark bruise had formed along the outside of my ankle, and a narrow scrape ran just above my heel.
One of the guests quietly put down his fork.
Luca studied my foot.
“You've been working like this all evening?”
I nodded.
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven's sake, Luca. She twisted her ankle. Do we really need to interrupt our engagement dinner?”
He ignored her.
“Natalie, what caused you to fall?”
I stared at the floor.
“The floor was wet.”
Vanessa relaxed.
Only slightly.
But Luca saw it.
He leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Vanessa frowned.
“What is?”
“The florist told me the cooler's refrigeration system was being serviced today.”
Her smile faltered.
“So?”
“So nobody was supposed to be working inside it.”
Nobody spoke.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
Vanessa gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“Then perhaps Natalie misunderstood her instructions.”
Luca looked at me.
“Did you?”
I couldn't answer.
Because the truth wasn't something I could explain in front of twenty-four guests.
Especially with Vanessa sitting three feet away.
He studied my face.
Then asked quietly, “Are you afraid of losing your job?”
My eyes immediately filled.
“Yes, sir.”
“You won't.”
Vanessa put down her glass.
“She's just embarrassed because she nearly dropped the flowers.”
Luca turned toward her.
“Then why are you answering every question I ask her?”
Vanessa stopped smiling.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Luca stood.
“Natalie, leave the flowers.”
“I can finish dinner.”
“No.”
“Please, sir. I need the hours.”
“You'll be paid for the entire shift.”
He looked toward the head housekeeper.
“Mrs. Carter, help Natalie upstairs and arrange for Dr. Harris to examine her ankle.”
Vanessa gave an irritated sigh.
“She's perfectly capable of walking upstairs.”
Luca looked directly at her.
“Then why did you just tell me she couldn't walk across the dining room?”
Her smile disappeared.
I started toward the doorway.
“Natalie.”
I stopped.
Luca was watching me carefully.
“Was Vanessa in the flower cooler when you fell?”
My stomach dropped.
I looked toward her without meaning to.
She was smiling again.
But there was something in her eyes I recognized immediately.
A warning.
“No, sir.”
Luca studied my face.
Then nodded.
“Go.”
I left.
And for the next thirty minutes, Luca Moretti behaved as though nothing unusual had happened.
He finished dinner.
Discussed the wedding arrangements.
Complimented the flowers.
Even listened patiently while Vanessa talked about the photographer she'd hired.
By dessert, she was smiling again.
She thought he'd accepted my explanation.
But at 9:47, while Vanessa was entertaining their guests, Luca quietly left the dining room.
He walked through the kitchen and stopped outside the flower cooler.
The heavy steel door was closed.
A handwritten sign had been taped to it.
OUT OF SERVICE.
He tried the handle.
Locked.
Then he noticed something unusual.
A small red light was flashing beside the emergency release.
Luca immediately called his head of security.
“Daniel. Who has the key to the flower cooler?”
“The catering manager, sir.”
“Anyone else?”
A pause.
“Miss Bellini requested a copy this afternoon.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Find it.”
Three minutes later, Daniel arrived.
He unlocked the door.
Cold air spilled into the hallway.
Luca stepped inside.
Buckets of white roses lined the walls.
Several empty flower crates were stacked beside a stainless-steel worktable.
Then he heard something.
A faint knocking.
He turned toward the far end of the cooler.
Behind the stacked crates was a second door leading to a small refrigerated storage room.
Someone was inside.
Luca immediately pulled the crates aside.
“Who's there?”
A woman's voice answered.
“Please. Open the door.”
Daniel hurried forward with the key.
Inside, an elderly woman sat on an overturned flower bucket, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Her silver hair had come loose from its pins.
She was wearing a florist's apron.
And she was trembling.
Luca immediately removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
“Ma'am, are you all right?”
She looked up at him.
Then her expression changed.
“You're Luca Moretti.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“Oh, thank God.”
Luca helped her stand.
“Who locked you in here?”
The woman hesitated.
Then looked toward the open door.
“Your fiancée.”
Luca went completely still.
“Vanessa?”
The woman nodded.
“That poor girl tried to stop her. She hurt her ankle when she fell against the storage steps.”
For several seconds, Luca said nothing.
Then he looked at Daniel.
“Get this woman somewhere warm. Call a doctor.”
The florist caught his sleeve.
“Mr. Moretti, please. I didn't come here just to deliver flowers.”
Luca turned back toward her.
“What do you mean?”
She reached into her apron pocket.
And removed an old photograph.
A younger Vanessa stood outside a small church beside a man wearing a dark wedding suit.
Luca stared at it.
“Who is that?”
The elderly woman swallowed.
“My son.”
Luca slowly looked up.
Then she said the words that made him forget about the engagement party downstairs.
“Mr. Moretti, your fiancée was married to my son. And I've spent the last six years trying to find out what happened to him.”
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The florist’s name was Margaret Hale.
And before the night was over, Luca would learn that the missing husband in her photograph had once worked for his own father.
