Lorenzo moved to the opening. Inside, Sophia knelt on the marble, water streaming through her dark hair, soaking her uniform. Valentina stood above her holding a crystal pitcher — ivory dress immaculate, face calm, almost bored.
“If you speak to Lorenzo, your daughter becomes a problem I will solve.”
That was enough. He pushed the door open. Valentina turned. The pitcher froze in her hand.
For several seconds no one spoke. Then Lorenzo said quietly, “Finish what you were saying.”
“What are you doing home?” “That wasn’t my question.”
Valentina recovered fast. “This isn’t what it looks like.” “What does it look like?” “Sophia became hysterical. She overheard a private conversation.” “That’s not true!” Lorenzo raised one hand and both women fell silent.
He walked to Sophia. “Are you hurt?” “No, sir.” But the red mark along her cheek answered him.
“She was blackmailing me,” Valentina insisted. “Enough.” Valentina had seen Lorenzo angry before. She had never seen him this quiet.
He draped his jacket around Sophia’s wet shoulders. Jealousy flashed through Valentina’s eyes. “Lorenzo, surely you don’t believe a maid over me.” He turned slowly. “I believe what I saw.” “You saw ten seconds.” “And I heard more.”