Chapter 71 The Sound of Metal

Chapter 71 The Sound of Metal
The roar of Lorenzo’s car engine in the driveway sounded like a warning bell as Isabella stood by the window of their bedroom, her fingers gripping the hem of her shirt. She could feel the weight of the stolen key in her pocket, like a hot coal pressing against her thigh.
Deep breaths, Isabella, she told herself. You’ve done the hard part. The evidence is gone. Now you need to put the key back.
She heard the front door slam shut, and a few moments later, Lorenzo’s footsteps thudded on the stairs. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he didn't even look at her. He just started tearing off his tie, his face set in a hard mask of irritation. He looked tired and angry. That had become his natural state lately. 
"Long day?" Isabella asked, her voice a bit too high.
Lorenzo didn't answer. He tossed his tie onto the armchair and unbuttoned his shirt. "The lawyers are moving like snails," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Salvatore wants everything perfect,"
He grabbed a towel from the rack and headed straight for the bathroom. "Don't wait up for dinner. I’m taking a long shower."
The bathroom door closed, and a second later, Isabella heard the rush of the water hitting the tiles.
She moved instantly, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs that she thought it might break through. She rushed toward the armchair where his suit jacket was draped. Her hands shook violently as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the cold metal key.
She reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and found the brass ring with the rest of his keys. She grabbed the ring, her fingers trembling, and tried to thread the stolen key back onto the metal loop, but her hands wouldn't stay still.
Come on, come on, she whispered under her breath.
The key caught on the edge of the ring and pushed it, trying to force it through the gap. She was halfway there. Just one more push, and it would be locked back in place, and Lorenzo would never know she had been inside his room of horrors.
Suddenly, the water stopped.
Isabella froze; the silence in the house was deafening. The shower hadn't even lasted five minutes.
Why did he stop? her mind screamed.
She heard the shower door slide open and the wet thud of feet on the bathroom mat. Panic, cold and sharp, flooded her veins. She tried to shove the key onto the ring one last time, but her coordination was gone.
The bathroom door swung open.
Lorenzo stepped out, a white towel wrapped around his waist, with droplets of water clinging to his tanned chest. He looked confused, his brow furrowed as if he had suddenly remembered a phone call he missed or a door he forgot to lock.
Isabella flinched, and the stolen key slipped from her trembling fingers, hitting the floor. The sound of metal hitting the floor echoed through the room like a gunshot.
Time seemed to freeze as Isabella stared at the floor, while Lorenzo looked at her, his eyes, usually cold, now sharp with sudden, deadly suspicion. He glanced at his jacket, then at her empty hands, and finally down at the floor.
"What was that?" he demanded.
Isabella’s mind felt completely blank. She couldn't let him see it. If he saw that key, he would realize she had been in the room. He would know she knew he was a murderer.
In a split second, Isabella pushed her foot forward, using the toe of her shoe to kick the key. It slid across the floor and vanished under the bed.
"What was what?" she asked, her voice trembling. She attempted to appear as the feisty, defiant woman he expected her to be.
Lorenzo took a slow step toward her. He didn't seem convinced. "The sound, Isabella. Something metal hit the floor. Right near my jacket."
"It was nothing," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "You’re jumpy. Maybe the merger is getting to your head."
"Don't play games with me," he growled. He was inches from her now, the scent of his soap filling her nose. "I heard a key, or a coin. Pick it up."
Isabella forced a laugh, though it sounded more like a choke. "Oh! It was my bracelet, Lorenzo! God, you’re so dramatic." She held up her bare wrist, showing him the pale skin. "The clasp has been loose all day. It slipped off when I was... when I was moving your jacket so I could sit down. It probably rolled under the bed. I’ll get it later."
Lorenzo didn't move. He stared at her wrist, then slowly looked down at the floor. His eyes scanned the area around her feet, focusing on the edge of the bed frame. Isabella felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. She prayed he wouldn't look closer or bend down to check under the bed.
"A bracelet," he repeated, sounding like he was testing the word, seeing if it tasted like a lie.
"Yes, a bracelet," she said, her voice getting louder. "The one with the charms. If you’re so worried about it, why don't you get on your knees and find it for me?"
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, she thought he was about to hit her. She braced herself for the impact, her jaw clenched. But instead, he let out a huff of air.
"Fine," he said, turning away toward the closet. "Find it before the maid comes in. I don't want her stepping on your jewelry."
Isabella felt her knees weaken. She reached out and grabbed the back of the chair to avoid falling over. He had bought it. Or at least, he was pretending to.
She watched him pull a shirt from a hanger; every movement he made was slow and calculated. He didn't look at her again, but she could feel his energy. He was watching her in the mirror, waiting for her to make a move.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart still pounding. The key was just there, inches from her heel, hidden in the dark. It was the only thing that could save her family, and at that moment, it was a ticking time bomb.
If Lorenzo decided to look for his keys before they left for dinner, or if he felt the weight of his jacket and noticed the ring felt lighter, she was dead. She had to find that key and put it back on the ring.
But Lorenzo was standing right there, taking his time, buttoning his shirt. He grabbed his watch and strapped it to his wrist, then turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Ready for dinner?"
"I... I need a minute," she whispered. "I need to fix my makeup."
"Make it quick," he said, walking toward the door, but he paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at her one last time. "And Isabella? Find that bracelet. I’d hate for something valuable to stay lost in the dark."
The door closed behind him.
Isabella collapsed forward, her head in her hands. She was trembling so hard she could barely breathe.