Chapter 1
Raffaele ended the banquet before anyone had the courage to ask whether dinner would continue.
The council meeting stopped.
The wine stopped flowing.
Bodyguards moved guests out through the front hall while kitchen staff stood frozen among overturned bowls and copper pans.
Raffaele did not look at Delia again.
Not yet.
His attention stayed on Sofia.
“Come with me.”
She did not move.
Her reddened hands hung at her sides.
Water dripped from her fingertips onto the tile.
Raffaele reached toward her, then stopped before touching her.
“Can I?”
Sofia looked at his hand.
After several seconds, she nodded.
He gently took her wrist instead of her palm and led her toward the small breakfast room away from the guests.
The estate nurse arrived first.
Then Raffaele’s physician.
Sofia had irritant contact dermatitis across both hands, several small cracks around her knuckles, and mild swelling from prolonged exposure to hot water and degreasing soap.
Nothing permanent was expected.
That did not calm Raffaele.
“How long was she washing?”
The kitchen manager, Anthony Keller, stood near the doorway.
His face was pale.
“Almost five hours.”
Raffaele turned.
“Five?”
Anthony swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“And nobody came into the council room?”
“We were told not to.”
“By whom?”
Anthony looked toward the kitchen.
“Mrs. Delia.”
“That shouldn’t have stopped you.”
“She said the instruction came from you.”
Raffaele stared at him.
“I gave no such instruction.”
Anthony’s face changed.
Sofia laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Raffaele looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She held up her damaged hands.
“It means that’s what everybody says afterward.”
“Sofia.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“You don’t get to stand there like this started tonight.”
Raffaele went silent.
The physician began wrapping Sofia’s hands loosely.
She winced.
Raffaele saw it.
His anger sharpened.
“How many times?”
Sofia looked down.
“How many times what?”
“Has Delia done something like this?”
“Not this.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Sofia finally looked at him.
“Since we got married? Enough.”
They had been married eight months.
Raffaele felt the answer physically.
“What did she do?”
“She rearranged my place at family dinners.”
“Why?”
“Because wives who marry into the family sit where senior blood relatives put them.”
“I never heard that rule.”
“Apparently you made it.”
His expression hardened.
“What?”
Sofia continued.
“She canceled the driver when I was supposed to visit my father because you supposedly needed me at the estate.”
“I never did that.”
“She told staff I wasn’t allowed inside your council wing unless summoned.”
“That’s not true.”
“She told me I couldn’t hire my own assistant.”
“I never said that.”
“She told the housekeeper you wanted my clothes moved out of the master dressing room during family weekends.”
Raffaele stared at her.
“Why didn’t you ask me?”
Sofia’s eyes filled.
“I did.”
He stopped.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“I remember that conversation.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You remember the conversation Delia wanted you to have.”
Raffaele said nothing.
Sofia swallowed.
“I asked why your family kept treating me like staff.”
“You asked why Delia was difficult with you.”
“Because every time I tried to say more, you told me she was traditional and I shouldn’t take it personally.”
Raffaele remembered.
Every word.
At the time, Sofia had sounded frustrated.
He had thought it was an ordinary adjustment between a new wife and an overbearing sister.
Now he looked at her bandaged hands.
It had not been ordinary.
He had simply been absent from the rooms where it became extraordinary.
Sofia looked exhausted.
“I shouldn’t have married you.”
This time the words were quieter.
They hurt more.
Raffaele sat across from her.
“Do you mean that?”
“I don’t know.”
That was worse than yes.
Behind them, someone knocked.
Raffaele’s security chief, Nathan Cole, entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We checked the service-wing doors.”
Raffaele waited.
“The electronic lock between the kitchen hall and council corridor was manually restricted at three this afternoon.”
“By whom?”
Nathan hesitated.
“The authorization was issued under your household account.”
Raffaele slowly looked back at Sofia.
May you like
He had been in New York at three that afternoon.
Someone had used his authority to make sure the kitchen could not reach him.
