American Dynasty

T H I R T E E N

Stella awoke the next morning to her mother shaking her. "Stella!"

"What?" she snapped, pulling the covers over her head.

"I believe the proper response would have been 'Yes, mother?'" Marcella said sharply. "It's already half past nine, why hasn't Tilly awoken you yet?"

"She looked so tired, Signora Biancardi," Tilly explained, appearing in Stella's doorway. "She didn't even wake up when I opened her curtains so I thought I should just let her sleep."

"A lady does not rise at any time past eight," Marcella said firmly. "Half of your day is wasted already!" Stella huffed and sat up in her bed. She imagined that her hair looked like it had been housing racoons and perhaps a few birds, but she was too tired and irritated to care. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes but she was still having trouble opening and closing her eyelids.

"Why are you so tired, anyways?" Marcella demanded.

Stella let her hands fall to her sides and she pressed her lips together. "I kept waking up last night. I could barely get any sleep."

"I see," Marcella said, not sounding very convinced.

"Now, could I please be left alone to change," Stella said tightly.

"You may." Marcella motioned for Tilly to come forward before flouncing out of the room, closing the door a little bit too loudly behind her.

After a few moments of silence Tilly spoke. "Are you going to tell her someone was in your room last night?"

Stella's head whipped towards her maid. "Excuse me?"

"I heard something last night and came to your room but before I opened the door I could hear voices. Yours and...an Irish one." Stella bit her lip nervously. "I won't tell anyone, Signorina, I can promise you that," Tilly continued, looking extremely concerned, "but please just be careful. Gangster or not he's Irish, and that's dangerous for a nice Italian girl like yourself."

Tilly slipped her into her airy morning tea dress and let Tilly yank the tangles out of her hair. When she finally looked presentable she silently walking with her out to the dining room where her father, mother and Matteo sat.

"Party too hard last night, little star?" Matteo joked as Stella took her seat next to him.

"Very funny," she said sarcastically with a fake laugh.

"Are you feeling alright? Are you sick? It's not like you to wake up so late."

At least someone is concerned about my well-being, she thought. "I'm fine, Matteo, I just had a bad night."

Matteo nodded slowly and sipped on his coffee. A servant brought a fresh croissant and a cup to tea to Stella. She hadn't even realized how hungry she was until her croissant disappeared in under a minute.

"Mio Dio, bambina, have you not eaten in days? Slow down!" Beppe chided, his eyes wide.

The corner of Stella's lip twitched and she quietly apologized. Murderer. She shook her head, trying to shake Flynn's words from last night. Has he ever killed anyone? Many. And she was sitting right across the table from him. Did he carry a gun like Flynn did? Stella was sure that Beppe had a weapon hidden away somewhere in the house.

"Are you still hungry, cara mia?" Her mother asked, holding out a bowl of fresh strawberries for her.

Stella shook her head and gulped down the rest of her tea. "May I be excused?"