The temptation of my brother-in-law-Chapter 174 - One Hundred and Seventy-Four

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Four

Alicia’s POV

The tea service was set on a silver tray. Fine china. Delicate cups with hand-painted flowers. A small pot of honey. Fresh lemon slices arranged on a porcelain dish.

I carried it carefully through the corridor to the sitting room where Signora Moretti spent her afternoons. The tray felt familiar in my hands. I’d done this before. Hundreds of times at the Blackwood mansion.

Serving Pa Wood his afternoon tea. Making sure everything was perfect. The right temperature. The right presentation. Everything precise.

Old habits.

I knocked softly on the door.

"Come in."

Signora Moretti sat by the window, a book open in her lap. Afternoon sunlight caught the silver in her hair, making her look almost ethereal.

I set the tray on the table beside her and began arranging everything. Cup first. Saucer beneath it. Spoon positioned at exactly three o’clock. The pot at a comfortable reaching distance.

"Would you like me to pour, Signora?"

"Please."

I poured the tea with steady hands. The stream was smooth, unbroken. No splashing. No drips. I’d perfected this years ago.

I added a slice of lemon when she nodded. No sugar. No honey. Just the lemon, exactly as she preferred.

When I stepped back, I noticed she was watching me. Not the tea. Me.

"You’ve done this before," she said.

My heart skipped. "Done what, Signora?"

"Served tea. In a formal household. You move like someone who’s been trained."

I kept my expression neutral. Careful. "I worked in a great house before. Back home. They were very particular about how things should be done."

"Where was home?"

"America."

"And this house you worked in. Was it a good position?"

"It paid well. The family was... demanding. But I learned a lot."

It wasn’t entirely a lie. The Blackwoods had been demanding. And I had learned. Just not in the way she probably imagined.

Signora Moretti took a sip of her tea. "You’re too refined to be just a housemaid, Alicia. The way you carry yourself. The way you set a table. Even the way you speak. You weren’t born to this work."

I said nothing. There was nothing safe to say.

"I won’t push," she continued. "Everyone has secrets. Everyone has a past they’d rather not discuss. I respect that."

"Thank you, Signora."

"But I do want to apologize. For the other day. When I first saw you."

"There’s nothing to apologize for."

"There is." She set down her cup. "I called you by my daughter’s name. I looked at you and saw someone who’s been gone for years. That wasn’t fair to you."

"You were grieving. I understand."

"Still. It must have been uncomfortable. Being compared to a dead woman."

"It’s alright. Really."

She was quiet for a moment, looking out the window. "Giuliana wasn’t dead when I last saw her. She was very much alive. Angry. Determined. Telling me she was leaving and never coming back."

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I stayed silent.

"She eloped," Signora Moretti continued. Her voice was soft. Sad. "With a man we didn’t approve of. A man who was wrong for her in every way. But she was in love, and when you’re young and in love, you think that’s all that matters."

"What happened to her?"

"I don’t know. She cut off all contact with the family. Refused to tell us where she was. For the first year, we’d get letters. Brief. Impersonal. Just enough to let us know she was alive. Then the letters stopped."

She picked up her tea again, but didn’t drink. Just held the cup like she needed something to do with her hands.

"My husband spent years trying to find her. Hired investigators. Followed every lead. It consumed him. He died three years ago without ever knowing what happened to our daughter. Without knowing if she was happy or suffering or..." She trailed off.

"I’m sorry."

"We think she died. The car accident we mentioned when you first arrived, that was what we were told. A body matching her description. Same age. Same general features. It was enough for us to believe. To finally stop searching."

"But you’re not sure."

"No. We’re not sure. We never saw the body. The authorities said it was too damaged to view. So we held a funeral for a daughter we never confirmed was actually dead." She looked at me. "And then you walked into our house. With her face. Her eyes. And for a moment, I let myself believe in miracles."

My throat felt tight. "I’m sorry I’m not her."

"Don’t be. You’re Alicia. And that’s enough." She finally took a sip of her tea. "Besides, Alessandro seems quite taken with you."

I felt heat rise to my face. "I don’t think—"

"Oh, don’t be modest. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he worries about you. He’s never been that attentive with any employee before."

"He’s just being kind."

"Alessandro is many things, but ’just kind’ has never been one of them. He’s practical. Efficient. He takes care of his responsibilities, but he doesn’t go out of his way. Not unless he actually cares."

"I think you’re reading too much into it, Signora."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps a mother knows her son better than he knows himself."

The door opened before I could respond. Alessandro walked in, looking slightly harried.

"Mamma, I need to talk to you about— Oh. Alicia. I didn’t know you were here."

"I was just serving tea," I said. "I’ll leave you to talk."

"No, stay," Signora Moretti said. "Whatever Alessandro needs to say, he can say in front of you."

Alessandro looked uncomfortable. "It’s about Francesca."

"What about her?"

"She’s refusing to apologize to Alicia. Says she was justified in disciplining an employee who abandoned her post."

Signora Moretti’s expression hardened. "Discipline does not include physical violence."

"I told her that. She doesn’t care."

"Then she’ll care when I tell her she’s no longer welcome in this house until she makes amends."

"Mamma—"

"I mean it, Alessandro. What she did was unacceptable. I don’t care if Alicia is an employee or family, no one puts their hands on another person in anger in my household."

I shifted uncomfortably. "Really, it’s fine. I don’t need an apology."

"Yes, you do," Signora Moretti said firmly. "And you’ll get one. Even if I have to drag Francesca here myself."

Alessandro caught my eye. There was something in his expression. Gratitude maybe. Or relief that someone else was handling this.

"Thank you, Mamma."

"Don’t thank me. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again." She turned to me. "Alicia, how are you feeling? Alessandro told me you’ve been unwell."

"I’m better. Just needed some rest."

"And the baby?"

I froze. Alessandro must have told her.

"The baby is fine," I said carefully.

"Good. You’ll need to take it easy. Alessandro has reduced your workload, yes?"

"Yes, Signora."

"And you have proper prenatal care arranged?"

"I’m working on it."

"Alessandro, make sure she gets to her appointments. And make sure she eats properly. She’s far too thin."

"I will, Mamma."

Signora Moretti looked between us. A small smile played at her lips. "You two would make a lovely couple, you know."

"Mamma." Alessandro’s voice was strained.

"I’m just saying. Alicia needs support. You clearly care about her wellbeing. It’s not such a leap."

"She works for me. That would be inappropriate."

"Since when have you cared about appropriate?" She laughed. "But fine. I’ll stop meddling. For now."

I wanted to disappear into the floor. This was mortifying.

"I should go," I said. "Dinner won’t prepare itself."

"Of course. Thank you for the tea, dear. It was perfect."

I gathered the tray and left quickly. Behind me, I could hear Signora Moretti laughing and Alessandro protesting.

I made it back to the kitchen before I let myself breathe properly.

Alessandro and me. That was ridiculous. He was my employer. I was pregnant with another man’s child. A man who was probably hunting for me. A man who’d tortured people and laughed about it.

There was no room in my life for whatever Signora Moretti was imagining.

But as I started preparing dinner, I couldn’t help thinking about the way Alessandro had looked at me. The concern in his eyes when I’d fainted. The way he’d carried me to the car without hesitation.

The way he’d fought with his sister to protect me.

No. I pushed the thought away.

I couldn’t afford distractions. Couldn’t afford to let my guard down.

I was here to work. To earn money. To prepare for a baby I’d be raising alone.

That was all.

Alessandro came into the kitchen about an hour later. I was chopping vegetables for a pasta sauce.

"I’m sorry about my mother," he said. "She means well, but she can be... pushy."

"It’s fine."

"It’s not fine. She made you uncomfortable."

"I’ve been more uncomfortable."

He leaned against the counter, watching me work. "You’re very good at deflecting, you know."

"Am I?"

"Yes. Every time someone asks you something personal, you give just enough information to satisfy them without actually revealing anything."

I focused on the vegetables. "Maybe I just don’t have anything interesting to reveal."

"I doubt that. Someone with your background, your training, running away to Italy and working as a housemaid? There’s a story there."

"Not one I’m interested in sharing."

"Fair enough." He was quiet for a moment. "But for what it’s worth, you’re safe here. Whatever you’re running from, whoever you’re hiding from, they won’t find you in this house."

I looked up at him. He meant it. I could see it in his eyes.

"Thank you."

"And my mother’s right about one thing. You do need to eat more. You’re still too pale."

"I’m eating."

"Not enough. I’m having meals sent to your room. You’ll eat them. That’s not a request."

"You can’t just—"

"I can. And I will. You’re carrying a child, Alicia. That child deserves a healthy mother."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him to stop treating me like I was fragile.

But he was right. The baby did deserve better.

"Okay," I said quietly.

"Good." He pushed off the counter. "I’ll let you get back to work. But if you need anything, anything at all, you’ll tell me. Understood?"

"Understood."

He left, and I went back to chopping vegetables.

But I was smiling.

Just a little.