LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 2

      Excitement and anxiety pulsed just beneath the surface of Lucia Marini’s skin as she surveyed the Orchid Club’s belowstairs kitchen.

      “We’ll have enough cakes?” she asked Jenny, the cook.

      “For the fifth time, yes,” Jenny said with an exasperated smile.

      She placed a candied violet atop one sugared confection and set that on a silver tray. Immediately, a masked female member of the staff whisked the platter away.

      “Circulate three times through each room,” Lucia called after the girl.

      A pair of hands settled on Lucia’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “Breathing’s not so difficult, once you get the hang of it.”

      Lucia turned and smiled at her friend Kitty. Kitty’s ash-blonde hair fell loosely about her shoulders, and her hazel eyes regarded Lucia with fond amusement. With her coral freckles scattered across ivory skin, Kitty looked more like a country girl from Devonshire than a London woman of experience. She had once been the former and was now the latter.

      At the sight of Kitty, a fraction of the tension knotted in Lucia’s chest loosened.

      “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

      “A little,” Kitty said. She rubbed her hand over her exceptionally pregnant belly in habitual movement. “But a bit of ridiculousness is perfectly understandable. Tonight’s your first night as the club’s manager. Only an escapee from Bedlam would be calm about it.”

      “I may need to be committed to Bedlam after the night’s over.” Lucia couldn’t keep still, and, despite a glower from Jenny, adjusted the placement of miniature tarts on their platter. They looked good, but were they good enough?

      Jenny pointed a cook’s knife in Lucia’s direction. “Hands off, or I’ll chop them off and make them into mincemeat pies.”

      Hands raised up, Lucia backed away from the sweets. “It’s not that I doubt your skill in the kitchen—”

      Kitty laid her fingers on Lucia’s arm. “Stop right there before you say something that’ll make you cringe later.”

      She tugged Lucia out of the kitchen. In the corridor, Kitty stroked a few strands of hair from Lucia’s face. “Be at ease, love. Everything will go swimmingly.”

      Despite all the encouragement Lucia had given herself earlier, her composure fell away and she fought to keep from twisting her hands together.

      “Mrs. Chalke entrusted the Orchid Club to me. All the souls that work here, they all rely on me to keep our doors open. I fail, and we starve.” The magnitude of Lucia’s responsibility nearly crushed her, yet this was what she’d yearned for—a place of her own, and the means by which she could create a better life for herself and those she cared about.

      “Not so dire as that. True,” Kitty said with a nod, “we need the extra blunt the operation gives us, but nobody’s going hungry, no one’s sleeping on the steps of Christ Church. You needn’t ride yourself so.”

      Lucia stepped back to allow passage for a small convoy of male staff members carrying crates of wine bottles.

      “Remember, ragazzi, new rule—each guest gets a maximum of two glasses of wine.” Wine and spirits clouded judgment, and she wanted to ensure that every guest acted from a place of lucidity.

      “Yes, miss,” they called over their shoulders as they moved up the stairs leading to the ground floor.

      “And what of the girls’ home?” she continued to Kitty. A swell of anxiety rose up within her. “It won’t come to pass if the club sinks. All those girls will be left on the streets, without roofs over their heads, unable to read a letter or write their own names.”

      Kitty exhaled. “Before you set sail, you’ve got to first build the boat. A step at a time, love.”

      “What if—”

      “Enough fretting now.” Kitty smiled warmly as she tapped a finger on Lucia’s chin. “You proved to our dear former manager, Mrs. Chalke, that you deserved to take over her job when she retired. No one doubts your ability—not even you. So go on upstairs and oversee your new empire, Your Highness. As for me,” she continued with a small grimace, “my feet are swollen as melons, so I’ll be retreating to my room. But I’d rather be down here, helping.”

      Affection swept through Lucia in a soft tide. She enfolded Kitty in a quick embrace, though she bent into a concave shape to make room for Kitty’s round stomach.

      “Never doubt that you help,” she said sincerely. “Between you and Elspeth, I have more than my share of better angels.”

      Kitty laughed. “A winged angel big with child, that’s what I am.”

      “Now fly, piccolo angelo,” Lucia said, swatting Kitty on the arse. “I’m a busy woman.”

      Shaking her head, Kitty waddled toward the servants’ stairs, leaving Lucia briefly alone. She swallowed hard. Dark and ravenous for more of her flesh, the fear that always lurked climbed out from its pit.

      She shut her eyes as she drew in a deep breath.

      Cara Mamma, she implored the spirit of her mother, wherever you are, send your girl the spirit of good fortune and even better business.

      Quickly, Lucia crossed herself. Now was the time. This was her moment.

      She climbed the stairs, drawing strength and composure with each step. No matter how much fear or uncertainty she felt, she could never allow her guests to see any hint of apprehension. The Orchid Club relied upon its aura of unbridled sensual freedom to attract visitors again and again. Guests wanted to feel safe as they indulged their erotic desires. If there was any hint of the proprietress’s anxiety, the fantasy would shatter like brittle sugar sculpture.

      By the time she reached the top step, Lucia had swathed herself in the cool serenity of her professional persona. She was a queen, benevolent but untouchable.

      She hadn’t gotten this far in life by giving up, by being afraid. Poverty hadn’t stopped her, nor had losing her only parent, or undertaking a long, perilous voyage to a foreign land. Again and again, she’d pushed onward, as she would continue to do so. Until breath left her body.

      Some might consider her achievements dubious, but to her, they were triumphs.

      She opened the baize-covered door that stood at the head of the stairs and stepped into the hallway. Sounds of sex encircled her, as familiar as the sounds of seabirds over the Golfo di Napoli had once been. There was also the warm ripe scent of sweat-glossed skin, and the heat that came from dozens of bodies engaged in vigorous activity.

      Bypassing the two main rooms in the club, she neared the entryway, where Elspeth stood awaiting the subsequent knock on the door from the next arrival. Tall and lean, Elspeth wore her peach-hued gown to perfection, and with her short hair, she looked every inch the noble gatekeeper.

      Before Lucia said a word, Elspeth’s smile flashed.

      “Fear not, Amina,” Elspeth said, using Lucia’s alias. She held up a pouch that jingled, heavy with coin. “The take’s

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