Chapter 2 - SOMETHING HAD BEEN SEWN INTO THE HEM
Roman stood at the glass for nearly a minute before Dominic spoke again.
“You planning to tell me who she is?”
Roman did not turn.
“Who?”
Dominic gave a dry laugh.
“That answer would work better if you hadn’t spent breakfast staring at your coffee like it owed you an apology.”
Roman finally looked over his shoulder.
Dominic Rossi had been beside him since they were nineteen. He knew when Roman was angry, when he was calculating, and when somebody was about to disappear from the city without receiving the courtesy of advance notice.
What Dominic did not know was what to do with a distracted Roman.
“She restored the Bellini piece,” Roman said.
“The woman from the gallery?”
Roman’s silence answered him.
Dominic leaned back.
“The one wearing your coat when Paul drove her home.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“Paul talks too much.”
“Paul said six words.”
“That’s five too many.”
Dominic smiled.
Then Roman’s phone vibrated.
Not a mysterious number.
The gallery maintenance supervisor.
Roman answered.
“Costa.”
“Mr. Costa, you asked us to fix that exposed bracket from last night.”
“Yes.”
“There’s something you should see.”
Roman’s expression changed.
Dominic noticed immediately.
Twenty minutes later, Roman entered the gallery with Dominic behind him.
The temporary partition had been pulled away from the wall.
A maintenance worker named Luis stood beside it holding a clear evidence sleeve normally used by the gallery staff for fragments recovered during restoration.
Inside lay a strip of emerald fabric.
Gemma’s dress.
Roman stopped.
“We found it caught behind the fitting,” Luis explained. “Was about to throw it away. Then I felt something inside the hem.”
Roman held out his hand.
Luis passed him the sleeve.
Inside the folded silk was a small, flat brass disk no larger than a quarter.
Roman’s blood went cold.
Stamped into the metal were two characters.
C17.
Dominic stepped closer.
His face lost all amusement.
“Where the hell did that come from?”
Roman already knew.
The Costa family had once used brass inventory markers on artworks transported through private warehouses.
C17 had belonged to one specific painting.
A portrait called Woman at the Blue Window.
It had vanished ten years earlier.
The same week Roman’s younger brother, Matteo, was murdered.
Roman stared at the disk.
“Get me the security footage from last night.”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“You think the girl planted it?”
“No.”
“You knew her for five minutes.”
“I watched her dress tear.”
“That is not a character reference.”
Roman looked at him.
“She didn’t know it was there.”
Dominic held his gaze.
“You want that to be true.”
Roman hated the sentence because it was accurate.
By noon, Gemma was back at work.
She had changed into black jeans, boots, and an old gray sweater. Roman’s cashmere coat was folded carefully over her arm inside a garment bag she had bought that morning because returning a five-thousand-dollar coat inside a grocery sack felt criminal.
She reached the gallery office.
The manager, Adrian Wells, glanced up.
“You’re early.”
“I need to return something.”
Adrian saw the garment bag.
His expression tightened for half a second.
Gemma noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You looked at this like it contained a body.”
Adrian forced a smile.
“Considering who owns it, maybe it does.”
Gemma did not laugh.
“Is Mr. Costa here?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Gemma frowned.
“I’ll leave it in his office.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Adrian stood.
“Gemma, people like Roman Costa don’t give expensive things away without expecting something.”
“He lent me a coat.”
“Men like him don’t lend coats.”
Gemma’s patience thinned.
“You seem unusually interested in my laundry.”
Adrian’s jaw flexed.
Before he could answer, Gemma saw movement through the glass doors.
Roman.
He was standing across the gallery.
Watching them.
Again.
Gemma’s stomach tightened.
Roman walked toward her.
His expression was controlled, but something about it felt different from the previous night.
Less curious.
More alert.
Gemma lifted the garment bag.
“I was returning your coat.”
“Keep it for today.”
“I have my own.”
“I know.”
She stared.
“That sentence is getting creepy.”
A faint flicker touched his mouth.
Then disappeared.
“Walk with me.”
“No.”
Dominic, standing several yards behind Roman, almost smiled.
Roman looked at Gemma.
“Please.”
That surprised everyone.
Gemma finally followed him toward an empty restoration room.
Roman closed the door but did not lock it.
A deliberate gesture.
Then he placed the brass disk on the worktable.
Gemma looked down.
“What is that?”
“It was inside your dress.”
Her eyes lifted sharply.
“My dress?”
“The torn section.”
“I bought that dress six months ago.”
“Where?”
“A vintage shop in Brooklyn.”
“Which one?”
Gemma crossed her arms.
“Why?”
Roman slid the disk toward her.
“Because ten years ago this marker was attached to a painting worth eight million dollars.”
“So?”
“It disappeared.”
Gemma gave an incredulous laugh.
“You think I stole an eight-million-dollar painting and decided the smartest hiding place was the hem of a forty-dollar dress?”
“No.”
Roman’s answer was immediate.
Gemma stopped.
“Then why have you been watching me?”
Roman did not respond.
Outside the restoration room, Adrian walked past the glass wall.
His gaze dropped to the brass disk.
He faltered.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Roman saw it.
So did Gemma.
Adrian kept walking.
Gemma turned back.
“You saw that.”
“Yes.”
“What does he know?”
“I intend to find out.”
Gemma picked up the disk.
Roman caught her wrist.
Not hard.
But fast.
“Don’t.”
Her eyes dropped to his hand.
Roman released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
She rubbed her wrist.
“You don’t get to order me around because your coat costs more than my rent.”
“I’m not trying to.”
“You’re doing a remarkable impression.”
Roman breathed out slowly.
Then his gaze moved toward the garment bag.
“What happened to the rest of the dress?”
“It’s at home.”
“Do not wear it again.”
Gemma stared.
“That won’t be difficult. There’s a twelve-inch tear in it.”
“I’m serious.”
Something in his tone stopped her sarcasm.
Roman moved closer and lowered his voice.
“That brass marker was not loose inside the hem.”
Gemma felt a chill.
“What do you mean?”
“It was sewn in by hand.”
“So somebody hid it.”
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“Possibly years.”
Gemma looked through the glass toward Adrian’s office.
Then at Roman.
“My mother gave me that dress.”
Roman went completely still.
Gemma swallowed.
“She found it in a box after my father died.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“What was your father’s name?”
Gemma hesitated.
“Daniel Hart.”
Dominic appeared in the doorway.
All color had drained from his face.
Roman turned.
Dominic stared at Gemma as if he had seen a ghost.
May you like
Then he said the words that changed everything.
“Roman… Daniel Hart worked for your brother.”
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