"Now, if it were up to me," Julian breaks in, "I'd kill AJ while he's here at Redwood Manor. But it's not up to me. And I swore oaths of my own. I do what I'm ordered to do."
Raffi nods in understanding, but I'm taken aback by these flat admissions to murder aforethought.
"So Chops has vanished," Julian muses, bringing us around in a circle. "Do you think he was responsible for Clemenza?"
"Like I said, it's possible," Raffi says. "We won't know for sure until we find him."
"Or what's left of him. Perhaps he's fertilizing the rose bushes even as we speak." Julian smiles as though the thought amuses him.
I set my cup down, the clatter of china loud in the silence. But Raffi's thigh presses against mine, warm and reassuring.
"We'll find him," Raffi says softly. "One way or another."
"I love a mystery." Julian claps his hands together. "This calls for a celebration! I shall make mimosas. Leo, fetch the champagne."
"It's a bit fuckin' early for champagne," Leo points out, "and this isn't a social call."
My knee is jumping and suddenly I need to move, to distance myself.
"May I use the bathroom?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Of course, Darian," Julian replies. "Just down there, to the left."
In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, desperately trying to regain some composure. The coolness calms me down, and I take deep breaths, reminding myself who I am.
Darian Thornfield-Hayes. Composed and meticulous butler.
I knew who the Castellanis were when I agreed to work for them. So I can handle this. Iwillhandle this.
I take a final deep breath and open the bathroom door. But as I make my way back to the living room, I overhear Leo speaking to Raffi in hushed tones.
"Why are you so interested in our plans for AJ?"
I pause, unsure whether I should re-enter the room while they discuss Family business. They shouldn't have been talking about it in front of me at all. Perhaps I should go back to?—
"It's not about being nosy," Raffi tells him. And then he gives such a deep sigh that I stay there, listening. "It's just…myfailures mean Clemenza's dead, and now Chops Lollo's disappeared. If Pedretti was still at Redwood, neither would have happened. I know the Boss is disappointed in me. I want to make it up to him. Show him I'm…better than this."
"Hey," Leo says, "that's bullshit. Sandro thinks highly of you. If he didn't, you wouldn't be sitting there as head of security. Heknewhaving all those Bernardi assholes in one place was asking for trouble. I think he's just surprised it was the Clemenza who got stiffed, not AJ or Gino. God knows I am."
"It's on me," Raffi insists morosely. "And besides that, I'm terrified for Darian. I want this lockdown lifted as soon as possible, so he's not serving breakfast to a killer—or at least, someone we don't alreadyknowis a killer."
I never knew Raffi worried so much about me. It's touching…but I've always prided myself on being able to take care of myself. I'm not some helpless damsel, no matter how much I enjoy feeling protected by him.
I make a little noise in the hallway before I re-enter the living room. "Perhaps we should ask what we came to ask," I suggest.
"And what's that?" Julian asks. He's lounging on the sofa, arm outstretched, stroking the back of Leo's neck.
"We came here to ask about the secret passages in Redwood Manor."
Julian's eyes light up. "Really? So someone else is finally interested in all those little architectural secrets! However," Julian adds, glancing at Leo, "I promised both Leo and Sandro that I wouldn't use those passages anymore. Well, Leo?" He literally bats his eyelashes. "May I show our esteemed head of security and my favorite butler some of those sneaky secret passages?"
Leo sighs. "Yeah, okay. But only because it could help with the current situation."
Julian jumps up. "Come on, you two. Let's head back to the Manor and I'll give you the tour."
"Perhaps you'd prefer to dress first, Mr. Castellani?" I say diplomatically.
"You'renofun, Darian, no fun at all." But he goes to put on a pair of pants and a shirt that I suspect cost more than my monthly salary.
