Page 234 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 5-8
He only nodded at the locksmith to go ahead.
The safe was located in the floor of the primary bedroom—the room where they’d made love the last time they’d been here, Mira couldn’t help remembering with a flush of private pleasure.
The safe had been hidden by cheap laminate flooring that had disguised pretty ceramic tiles painted in patterns of earthy blues and reds. They weren’t even cracked.
“Why were these covered up? They’re beautiful,” she said in bafflement. “Because of the safe?”
Matching tiles had been cut and fitted to cover the hatch, disguising the fact that it had been cemented into the foundation. An area rug would have sufficed to hide it.
The safe was so old, it didn’t even lock with a combination. It opened with two keys, neither of which Mira had.
“These things rarely have anything of value in them,” the locksmith warned with an apologetic look at the cardboard box Rocco had scavenged.
“Call me Pandora, but I have to know,” Mira joked.
The man grinned and took great care as he drilled out the keyholes. When he opened the hatch, he said, “This is a nice surprise. I’ll leave you to examine your treasures. Let me know if you want me to repair the door so you can continue to use it.”
“I will, thanks.” She waved as the locksmith left.
Mira kneeled on the scrap of cardboard that Rocco provided and reached inside to bring out a small marble figure wrapped in an old towel. It was a woman with a harp.
“I’ll have to get that appraised.” She handed it to Rocco. The fact that it was in the safe told her it was valuable.
He admired it, then rewrapped it and set it in the box.
“Oh, look at this.” She opened a velvet box, revealing a stunning broach that glimmered with colored stones of yellow, pink and blue, set in a floral arrangement with green stones for leaves. They might have been costume, but the fact her mother had left it in here told her the gems were sapphires and emeralds. She would get that appraised, too.
“My grandfather’s diaries! I wondered where these had gone.” She flipped the pages on one of the leather-bound journals, pausing to thrill at his spidery handwriting and a date from her mother’s childhood. “I’ll enjoy reading these.”
She handed them to Rocco and reached for the last item, a yellowed envelope with an unfamiliar Italian solicitor’s firm stamped in the corner. Her mother’s handwriting labeled it “Mira’s trust.”
Odd. She drew out legal documents and read the note clipped to the front. Her heart slowed with every word until her blood seemed to pool in her veins.
Trude,
I understand why you wanted to keep the baby. You don’t have to apologize for that. Please forgive me when I say I cannot tell Claudina about her. I would risk losing the children I have with her.
These papers detail the trust I’ve set up for Mira, exactly as I have arranged for the rest of my children. Don’t argue. It’s done.
In another life, Trude, you and our daughter would have more from me than this.
Yours,
Silvio
“Silvio?” She looked up to Rocco, way up. He’d been standing over her and reading the note over her shoulder. “That’s a coincidence.”
As grim culpability hardened his expression, she realized, no. It was not a coincidence. Not at all.
Chapter Eleven
IT WAS THEmoment Rocco had dreaded, but there was relief, too. He had loathed every minute of keeping Silvio’s identity from her. When she had called to tell him she was coming here to see what was in the safe, he had called Silvio to warn him.
“If there’s something in there about me, you have to stop her,” Silvio had insisted.
“Whatever is in there belongs to her,” Rocco had replied. “I can’t snatch it out of her hands.”
That’s exactly what he wanted to do, though. He wanted to rewind fifteen minutes, to when Mira had been joking with the locksmith, before she had released troubles and woes into their world.
