American Dynasty

E L E V E N

Felicity Jones as Tilly Hughes ^^^

*****

Stella lay motionless in her bed, but her mind was running at a million miles per hour. Was Papà really telling the truth? She thought. She immediately felt bad for questioning her father. He was an honest man who loved her very much, he would never lie to her.

Tilly came into Stella's room, surprised that her mistress had dressed and washed herself. "You're already in bed, Signorina?"

"Yes, Tilly, I don't need your assistance tonight," Stella said monotonously.

Tilly bit her lip. "Are you feeling okay, Signorina?"

Stella stayed silent for a minute, staring blankly at the ceiling. "I don't know, Tilly. I really don't know." She finally spoke, turning on her side to face her maid.

"May I ask if you would like to talk about it, Signorina?" Tilly asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I don't really know if this is something you can understand, Tilly," Stella sighed.

"If I may be so bold to say this, Signorina, you may be surprised." Tilly grabbed the stool from Stella's vanity table and sat down beside the bed.

Stella gazed up at her maid uncertainly. "Have you ever wondered if someone you loved and trusted dearly was not being honest with you?"

Tilly nodded. "Yes, I have."

"Did you feel bad about questioning them?"

"Well...no. I must have had a reason to suspect them of being dishonest. Do you, Signorina? Have a reason, I mean."

Stella thought about it. Her father absolutely refused to talk about gangsters or their business, even though it seemed that everyone else in New York made it their business to know. "Maybe. I don't know," Stella answered truthfully.

Tilly pursed her lips. "It seems like you have quite the situation on your hands, Signorina. But if I were you, I would follow what my gut instinct told me. More times than wrong, it's right." With a faint smile Tilly stood up and dimmed the light beside Stella's bed. "Goodnight, Signorina."

"Goodnight, Tilly," Stella murmured, closing her eyes as her maid left her room. She heard the faint click of the door closing and her eyelids flew open. She knew well enough that sleep would not overtake her lest her mind be riddled with worries about her father.

She reached a hand out and played with the canopy curtains of her bed. The gold embroidery shimmered dimly in the moonlight that filtered through the window. At what cost did all the luxury come at? As far as she knew her father was a businessman, a man who had hit it big in the stock market. Had her father not worked truly hard; earned every dollar? How easy it was to make thousands off of illegal liquor, let alone other gang activities. So why couldn't Beppe?

Stella huffed and lay on her back, annoyed with herself. What right did she have to tarnish a good man's reputation, much less her father's? Beppe was telling the truth, she decided. He had to have been. Settling into half-hearted content, Stella closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Her night was peaceful until half past midnight when a faint tapping noise on her balcony window roused her from her sleep. She slid further beneath her covers, hoping she was just hearing things.

Tap tap tap.

There it was again, louder and urgent this time. Stella's heart was pounding as she climbed out of her bed and grabbed the fireplace poker from its stand. Wielding it like a sword she quietly approached the window where she could see a silhouette behind the curtains. She took a deep breath before ripping open the doors and brandishing the fireplace poker above her head.

"Ahhh!" Flynn's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he scrambled away from her, his back hitting the railing of the balcony.

Stella's expression morphed from fear to disbelief then to anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed, keeping the fireplace poker level with Flynn's chest.

Flynn held his hands up in surrender. "I swear I'm not trying to cause any trouble, but I need your help."

"Why would you need my help?" Stella asked suspiciously, cocking her head to the right.

Flynn looked over his shoulder. "I just need a place to hide out for a couple minutes."

"Absolutely not!" Stella said, her voice turning shrill.

Flynn winced and looked over his shoulder again. "Please, this is really urgent!"

"I will not let-" The sound of men shouting drew Stella's attention to the street below. Flynn ducked into her room, pushing her down to a low crouch. "What do you think you're-" Her voice was muffled by his large hand clamping down on her mouth.

She tried to hit him with the fireplace poker but he wrenched it out of her hand and tossed it aside. He then wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, eliminating any possibility of her wriggling out of his grasp. The sound of shoes hitting the pavement and a familiar voice started calling drunken, slurred orders.

"Sssearch everywhere! I want that scum found and brought back to me alive!"

Stella's breath became laboured. Eddie McGrath. As the voices became farther away, Flynn let out a breath of relief and took his hand off of Stella's mouth.

"How dare you?!" Stella seethed, trying to get up. She fell right back down, glaring at Flynn when she realized he was still holding on to her waist.

"Oh...sorry," he murmured sheepishly and let her go.

They both stood up and Stella crossed her arms over her chest. "As I was saying," she began and jabbed a painted fingernail into Flynn's muscular chest. "How dare you?! You can't just barge into my room then push me to the ground!"

"I just saved both of our lives, doll, what more do you want from me?" Flynn said, his voice laced with irritation.

"My life wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't been on my balcony."

"Well I wouldn't have been on your balcony if I hadn't have needed to protect you from McGrath earlier."

"Nobody asked you to get involved."

"No, perhaps not," Flynn said, practically fuming now. "But despite your rather wide generalizations on gangsters I take pity on innocent people being hurt."

Something about this girl simply made him so exasperated all he wanted to do was scream in frustration. Who did she think she was, telling him off after he had saved her life twice?

Stella snorted and rolled her eyes. "I've never heard of a gangster who cared about anyone except for himself."

"Well, you don't know me," Flynn said shortly, peering at her through the dark, "so stop acting like you do."

"You're a career criminal. I have every right to assume deviant intent," Stella said, getting in his face. "And why my balcony? Couldn't you have decided to hide somewhere else?"

"I ran into this neighbourhood hoping that they wouldn't be stupid enough to walk into Italian territory but apparently I was wrong. I came to your house because I knew there was a low chance of me getting killed on sight. Or at least I thought there was low chance until you tried to club me over the head with a fireplace poker."

Stella stayed silent for a minute, her dark brown eyes burning holes into the wall beside her. Despite being furious with the girl in front of him, Flynn couldn't help but admire her features in the dim moonlight. Her high cheekbones and straight nose made her look regal, like a Mediterranean princess.

Stella met his gaze and frowned. "Why are you staring at me?"

Her bluntness surprised him. "No reason," Flynn said quietly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. He looked down at the ground. "I suppose this is my cue to leave." He strode out to the balcony, leaving Stella standing in her room. She watched his retreating figure reach the door and suddenly her impulse took over.

"Flynn?" She called out uncertainly.

Flynn stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around, raising an eyebrow expectantly. Stella pressed her lips together and looked him straight in the eye. "What do you know about my father?"