The Lie Before Luca Asked
Chapter 01 - The Lie Before Luca Asked
Emma Walsh had almost finished serving the first course.
Three more guests.
That was all she needed.
But every time she opened her mouth, the cut inside her lower lip split again.
She could taste blood.
So she stopped smiling.
Stopped talking unless someone spoke directly to her.
And kept her face slightly lowered beneath the chandeliers of Luca Moretti’s Chicago mansion.
Emma was twenty-nine, had worked at the estate for ten months, and had exactly eighty-one dollars left until payday.
Missing the engagement dinner was not an option.
Neither was telling Luca what she had discovered in the cellar that afternoon.
Twenty-four guests sat around the long table.
Vanessa Bellini wore deep red silk and diamonds.
At the head sat Luca Moretti.
Thirty-nine.
Black suit.
Dark eyes.
A man who noticed when people stopped doing things they had done every day for months.
Emma approached with the bread basket.
“Thank you, Emma,” Luca said.
Normally she answered.
Tonight she nodded.
Luca looked up.
“You all right?”
Emma tried to smile.
Pain flashed.
She stopped immediately.
That was enough.
“What happened?”
Before Emma could answer, Vanessa laughed lightly.
“She walked into a wine rack this afternoon.”
Emma’s hand stopped above the table.
Vanessa lifted her champagne.
“Honestly, Luca, I don’t know how someone manages to injure herself in a room full of stationary bottles.”
Silence.
Luca turned toward his fiancée.
“The wine cellar?”
“Yes, darling.”
“She was fetching a bottle for the kitchen.”
Emma stared at the tablecloth.
She had told no one where she had been hurt.
And she had not been fetching wine.
Luca looked back at her.
“Did you walk into a rack?”
Emma could feel Vanessa watching.
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“Around four.”
“What were you doing downstairs?”
“Helping the kitchen.”
Vanessa added:
“She was looking for the Barolo.”
Luca’s eyes moved toward her.
“The Barolo?”
“Yes.”
“You saw her?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know what she was looking for?”
Vanessa smiled.
“She told me.”
Luca looked at Emma.
“Did you?”
Emma’s mouth dried.
“Yes.”
Too slow.
Luca leaned back.
“Interesting.”
Vanessa frowned.
“What is?”
“The kitchen doesn’t use my cellar.”
Her fingers stopped around the glass.
“The dinner wine came from the catering company.”
Nobody moved.
Vanessa recovered.
“Then perhaps Emma was looking for something else.”
Luca looked at Emma.
“Were you?”
Every answer had become another lie.
“Look at me,” Luca said.
Emma’s heart started pounding.
“It’s really nothing, sir.”
“Emma.”
Slowly, she raised her face.
The makeup around her lip had separated.
A thin red line appeared at the corner.
Luca’s expression changed.
“Did somebody hurt you?”
Emma’s eyes lifted toward Vanessa before she could stop them.
She regretted it immediately.
Luca followed the glance.
Saw Vanessa’s warning.
“Are you afraid of losing your job?”
Emma’s eyes burned.
“Yes, sir.”
“You won’t.”
Vanessa sighed.
“For heaven’s sake, Luca. She bumped her face.”
Luca ignored her.
“Was Vanessa in the wine cellar when you got hurt?”
Emma swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
The answer changed the room.
“Was anyone else there?”
Emma could not answer.
Vanessa placed down her napkin.
“Darling, surely this can wait until after dinner.”
Luca looked at Emma.
Then nodded.
“Mrs. Carter will have Dr. Harris examine your lip. You’ll be paid for the full shift.”
“I can finish.”
“No.”
Not angry.
Final.
Emma left.
For the next thirty-five minutes, Luca Moretti behaved as though nothing unusual had happened.
He finished dinner.
Discussed Saturday’s ceremony.
Listened while Vanessa described the honeymoon.
Even poured her another glass of wine.
By dessert, Vanessa was smiling again.
At 9:53, she went upstairs.
Luca waited until she disappeared.
Then walked downstairs.
The wine cellar sat beneath the west wing.
His father had begun the collection.
His mother had added to it every anniversary.
Luca rarely opened the most expensive bottles.
Not because of their price.
Because some labels still carried Enzo Moretti’s handwriting.
He unlocked the cellar.
Turned on the lights.
Stopped.
Tiny white stickers sat beneath dozens of bottles.
LOT 14.
LOT 15.
LOT 16.
A case of Bordeaux bought the year Luca was born.
The Burgundy served at his parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary.
Six bottles his mother had saved for the day Luca eventually married.
All tagged.
On the tasting table lay a leather folder.
Printed inventory.
Estimated prices.
At the bottom:
TOTAL ESTIMATED AUCTION VALUE: $186,400.
A business card was clipped to the folder.
THOMAS KELLER
PRIVATE WINE BROKER
Luca called.
A man answered on the third ring.
“Keller.”
“This is Luca Moretti.”
Silence.
Then:
“Mr. Moretti.”
“You were in my house this afternoon.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think you should speak to Miss Bellini.”
“I’m speaking to you.”
Keller exhaled.
“She asked me to appraise part of the collection.”
“For what?”
“She said the family was selling.”
“I never authorized a sale.”
Silence.
“How many bottles?”
Keller hesitated.
“All of them.”
Luca stopped moving.
“The entire cellar?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“As quickly as possible.”
“How quickly?”
“She wanted the first shipment removed Friday morning.”
Two days before the wedding.
“How was she being paid?”
“Cashier’s checks.”
“Made out to whom?”
“Vanessa Bellini.”
The cellar door opened.
Emma stood there.
Her lip had been cleaned and treated.
Luca ended the call.
“Emma.”
Her face changed when she saw the stickers.
He held up Keller’s card.
“Is this the man who was here?”
She nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“What happened?”
“Mrs. Carter asked me to bring clean tasting glasses downstairs for tomorrow.”
“And?”
“The door was open.”
Emma looked at the tagged bottles.
“Vanessa was inside with Mr. Keller. He was photographing them.”
Luca waited.
“I thought you were having the collection insured.”
Then:
“I heard Vanessa tell him not to send anything to the house.”
Luca’s expression sharpened.
“What?”
“No invoices. No letters. No calls to the main number.”
“What happened when they saw you?”
“Mr. Keller left.”
“And Vanessa?”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“She asked how long I’d been there.”
“What did you say?”
“That I had just arrived.”
“She believed you?”
“No.”
Emma touched her jaw.
“I tried to leave. She stepped in front of me. I backed away and hit the edge of the tasting table.”
“Did she push you?”
Emma hesitated.
Then nodded.
For several seconds Luca said nothing.
Then he reached for his phone.
“Daniel. Nothing leaves the cellar. Put someone at both entrances.”
He ended the call.
“Emma, did you hear why Vanessa needed the money?”
Emma’s throat tightened.
“Part of it.”
“What?”
“Keller asked why she needed cash so quickly.”
Luca waited.
Emma whispered:
“She said she had a debt you didn’t know about.”
A pause.
“And if the man she owed contacted you before Saturday, there wouldn’t be a wedding.”
Luca looked around at the bottles his parents had collected for thirty years.
Then at the staircase above them.
“Do you know his name?”
Emma nodded.
She had heard it once.
Only once.
“Julian Mercer.”
Luca’s face became completely still.
Emma noticed.
“You know him.”
Luca looked at her.
“Yes.”
Not a friend.
Not exactly an enemy either.
May you like
Julian Mercer was the man who bought debts Luca’s family no longer wanted on its books.
And the last time Luca saw him, Mercer had promised that one day Luca would regret ever teaching him how leverage worked.
