Mrs. Gable appeared behind her.
“Are you refusing an order?”
“I’m refusing to lift something I can’t safely carry. I can clean the floor without it.”
“We’ll discuss your employment after tonight.”
Nora lowered her eyes to hide the sudden terror. Another job loss could mean losing her apartment before Lily was born.
She finished what she could, then went upstairs with a bowl of warm food for Giovanni. He was sitting in darkness again.
“I might be in trouble,” she admitted while feeding him. “But that’s not your problem.”
He looked toward the notebook protruding from her apron pocket.
“You noticed,” she said.
One blink.
She smiled faintly. “I know. I talk too much.”
He blinked twice.
She laughed. It startled them both.
As she replaced his spoon on the tray, headlights moved across the ceiling.
Downstairs, car doors slammed.
Lorenzo Moretti entered the mansion with snow caught in his dark hair. He was thirty-two, broad-shouldered, and tired in a way his expensive coat could not disguise. Two bodyguards stopped near the front entrance while he walked straight to the middle of the hall.
“My father,” he said. “How is he?”
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“Very comfortable, Mr. Moretti. We treat him like an absolute king.”
Nora stood behind the other servants with her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles hurt.
Lorenzo glanced at her, then returned his attention to Mrs. Gable.
“Is he awake?”
“Of course. His condition is unchanged.”
“Take me to him.”
The housekeeper led the way. The others began drifting back to their tasks.
Nora should have returned to the kitchen.
Instead, she followed at a distance.
From the hallway, she heard the door open.
Then Lorenzo said, sharply, “Why is it so cold?”
Mrs. Gable answered at once. “He prefers it this way.”
