Chapter 2 House Of Ice

• Chapter 2
• THOMASINA
• It was quiet at dinner. It was the kind of silence that encircled your throat like a noose, holding you so tight that you almost forgot how to breathe. The dining room looked like it had been carved out of marble and intimidation, with its long table dark chandeliers and windows that seemed too big .
• I looked around.
• Three people. One meal. One thousand secrets. Lucia's little fingers picked at her food. I sat with my eyes down eating slowly two seats away .
• And like a king carved out of ice El Fuego sat at the head as I chewed my food slowly, I counted the cameras in the corners .
• Two and also motion sensors. Mics were most likely in the walls. Everywhere seemed to be watched and I wondered if this was a prison or something. And there was a velvet-draped surveillance machine.
• “You haven't touched the wine.” El Fuego said. My fork stopped in mid-air.
• “I would rather not drink and work,” " I replied thoughtfully.
• An eyebrow went up.
• “Professional.”
• I never responded. It was obvious that he enjoyed power plays. His words were all tests, a trap one in which I had to play to survive. Lucia dropped her fork abruptly.
• The porcelain clattered against it. Her eyes became wide and then breathing rapidly she let out a whimper. a panic disorder.
• I didn't know when I moved and I was by her side in seconds.
• “Lulu, dear, I'm here.Sweetheart you're safe. Shhh.”
• Like before, she gripped my shirt with trembling little hands.
• “I want to see Mommy,” she muttered.
• Juan Miguel's jaw tightened and he held the wine glass tightly.
• “Lucia she's gone,” he stated bluntly.
• She shook her head and began to cry. “Nooooo, she said she would visit soon.”
• Juan Miguel looked like he would punch the wall.
• After taking her in my arms I got up.
• “ I'll show her the way upstairs.”
• Juan Miguel didn't say anything and didn't stop me either.As I carried her out he simply stared at me, his face unreadable.
• I rocked her softly upstairs in the dark until her sobs turned into hiccups.
• And then there was quiet. I waited until then to let my tears fall silent and unseen. Because I could still feel the pain of crying for a mother who never returned. And I remembered who had taken her away. I stopped in front of the door when I got back to the nanny quarters which was across the hall from Lucia's room.
• There was a sensation around me and I felt it. A subtle scent. Something was wrong.
• I let me eyes dart around and slowly I pushed open the door. There had been a search in my room. Carried out quite nicely and oofessionally. I knew amreadyy.
• My duffel bag's zipper was a little off. My toothbrush was excessively dry. My pillow was flipped.
• He had put me to the test, to shake me. I locked the door after shutting it behind me. As I checked the floorboards, my fingers moved swiftly and expertly.
• I pulled up the one loose panel in the corner.
• I still had my backup flash drive and burner phone. However the file was no longer there, Little B’s photograph, the death certificate for my sister, report from my husband's autopsy. Vanished.
• My breath caught. No, if he has it then I was busted. El Fuego is the most ruthless and craziest mafia lord to ever walk the face of the earth.
• I had heard stories about his dealings and I was already shaking as I searched for it.
• I stopped and began to think.
• Yes.
• I moved the curtains and there was a picture frame. I pushed my fingers into a small opening and heaved a sigh of relief. Safe.
• It was just a photo hanging on the wall to anyone. I shut off the lights squirmed under the covers and lay motionless.
• I didn't sleep though. I kept an eye on the door. I waited, planned. I had to find the deepest secrets and hand him over. He has to pay for Marco's death even if I die doing dom.
• Something woke me up after midnight. Soft and quiet, just like the creaking of a door. I straightened up. The door to Lucia was open. I crossed the hall without a word. I held my breath and moved bare feet and held onto the idea that every shadow is a friend.
• Lucia was gone The bed was deserted. I felt my heart race. I looked out the window.
• Locked.
• Shit!
• Then I heard footsteps coming down the wing hall to the east. I went along. I had not yet been shown a portion of the house when the hall curved into it. This place had slightly warped floors, old walls and faded paint. A secret wing?
• I moved through the darkness like a ghost Then I saw her. Lucia, facing a door that was locked.
• Her small hand was resting on the knob. “Lucia” I breathed rushing forward. “My dear, what are you doing? You should be in bed.”
• She didn't appear afraid. She looked, interested. Dazed. .
• “She sings to me” She whispered
• It made my stomach turn over. Lucia pointed to the door. “The lady in the red dress. ”
• There was no lady. No music.
• Just silence. And cold.
• “Come on,” I said gently, picking her up. “Let’s go back to bed. ”. I carried her away, my heart thudding. Her eyes stayed fixed on the door until it disappeared behind us. Back in her room I tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams” I whispered.
• Then I closed the door and walked straight to the east wing again. This time I didn’t hesitate. The door was locked. No keypad. Just an old-fashioned keyhole. But the scent—. Perfume, faint,old.
• It smelled of roses and something coppery. Blood? I leaned closer. A floorboard creaked behind me. I spun around. Juan Miguel stood there. Barefoot and shirtless.
• My eyes moved to where a gun was tucked at the back of his pants like he had purchased both from the boutique.
• His narrowed as he asked.
• “What is going on here?”
• “Lucia was out of bed. She said someone was singing. ”
• His eyes darkened. “She sleepwalks sometimes. ”
• “She said the lady in the red dress sings to her. ”
• His jaw tightened. I took a step back. “What’s behind that door Mr. Balotelli?”.
• He stepped forward. Too close. Our bodies almost touching.
• “I told you not to ask questions. ”.
• His breath smelled like mint and whiskey. His chest barely moved with his breathing. He stood so still and in controlled like a predator.
• “I was doing my job” I said, my voice a bit unsteady.
• “Were you?”.
• There was a little silence, then his hand lifted—slowly. My body tensed. But he only reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
• He blinked lazily and that one action made him look hot…… Thomasina, no, concentrate.
• “Something…you are not who you seem to be.”
• And you are not a saint either, I wanted to say. Instead I stepped away.
• “Good night Mr. Balotelli. ”
• This time he didn’t stop me. But as I walked away I could feel his eyes on my back like a blade.
• And I knew something for sure. Whatever was behind that door…. …wasn’t just haunting Lucia. It was haunting him.
• And I had to find out who was singing