Chapter 10
For one second, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Marco.
The man who had protected the house.
The man who had investigated Vanessa.
The man who had put the wire under my collar.
He stood behind Luca with a gun pressed between his shoulder blades.
Sophie screamed.
“Daddy!”
Luca did not move.
He looked at me.
Not surprised.
That was the first thing I noticed.
“You knew,” I whispered.
His mouth barely moved.
“I suspected.”
Marco laughed softly.
“Too late.”
Angelo smiled.
“No. Right on time.”
Everything clicked at once.
The security failures.
The disabled cameras.
Cross’s body inside Luca’s garage.
The open service door.
The intruder who knew every route.
The guard attack Angelo had blamed on one of Marco’s men.
Of course.
Marco controlled the men.
Marco controlled the routes.
Marco controlled what Luca saw.
I felt sick.
Sophie tried to run toward Luca.
The gray-suited man caught her arm.
“Don’t touch her!” Luca snapped.
The man froze.
Angelo looked almost amused.
“Still giving orders.”
Luca’s face was stone.
“Let my daughter go.”
“Give me the case.”
“You first.”
Angelo shook his head.
“You never learned patience.”
“You never learned when to stop.”
“I stopped many times.”
“No. You waited.”
Angelo’s eyes hardened.
“Call it what you want.”
I looked at Marco.
“Why?”
He shrugged.
“Money.”
“That simple?”
“Usually is.”
“You watched Vanessa hurt me.”
His expression did not change.
“I watched a lot of things.”
“You knew she was isolating Sophie.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the passports.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Cross was dead.”
A pause.
Then:
“I killed him.”
Luca’s eyes hardened.
Angelo looked irritated.
“You talk too much.”
Marco smiled.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
It mattered to me.
“Why kill Cross?”
“He panicked.”
“Because Vanessa changed the plan?”
“Because he realized Angelo’s endgame wasn’t blackmail.”
Angelo’s voice sharpened.
“Enough.”
Marco ignored him.
“He thought he could walk away.”
Luca spoke.
“And Paul Rennick?”
“Backup.”
“He shot Vanessa.”
“He was supposed to.”
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa’s shoulder wound.
Not random.
Another cleanup.
Luca looked at Angelo.
“You were going to kill your own daughter.”
Angelo’s face changed.
For the first time, anger.
“She ruined everything.”
“She found out you were using her.”
“She became emotional.”
“She became inconvenient.”
Angelo said nothing.
That silence was answer enough.
Sophie started crying.
Quietly.
I looked at her.
Her eyes met mine.
She was terrified.
But she was watching me.
Waiting.
Like she had on six Friday nights.
Waiting for someone to tell her what was true.
So I did the only thing I could.
I smiled.
Barely.
Then I tapped two fingers against the side of the coffee cart.
Once.
Twice.
Our signal.
The same signal Sophie and I used when Vanessa entered a room and we had to stop talking about Luca.
It meant:
Wait.
Sophie saw it.
Her crying changed.
Still real.
But quieter.
Angelo didn’t notice.
Marco did.
“What was that?”
“What?”
“Your hand.”
I looked down.
“I’m shaking.”
He stared at me.
Then at the cart.
The wire beneath my collar had gone silent the moment Marco revealed himself.
Of course it had.
He controlled the channel.
But maybe not everything.
I remembered Marco giving me the microphone.
He had clipped it under my collar.
He had not searched the coffee cart.
Because he hadn’t known I would use one until we arrived.
And the catering staff had radios.
One still sat beneath the folded napkins.
I had seen it when I loaded the cart.
I moved my hand slowly toward the lower shelf.
Angelo pointed at Luca.
“The case.”
Luca lifted it.
“Sophie walks to Mia.”
“No.”
“Then you get nothing.”
Angelo smiled.
“You think those documents are my only copy?”
“No.”
Luca’s voice was calm.
“I think you need my signature.”
Angelo’s smile disappeared.
There.
Luca had found the pressure point.
“What signature?” I asked.
Luca looked at Angelo.
“The transfer instrument is incomplete without trustee acknowledgment.”
Angelo’s jaw tightened.
“You already signed one.”
“I revoked it.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“That’s impossible.”
“My attorney works late.”
Angelo’s face darkened.
Marco pressed the gun harder into Luca’s back.
“Sign again.”
Luca looked over his shoulder.
“No.”
Marco smiled.
“You will.”
“No.”
“Your daughter is ten feet away.”
“And if I sign, you still have my daughter.”
Marco’s smile faded.
Luca continued.
“I know men like you. I sign, I become unnecessary.”
Angelo’s expression became cold.
“Your father would be disappointed in your negotiating.”
Luca’s eyes changed.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
Angelo said it too quickly.
Luca noticed.
So did I.
“What does that mean?”
Angelo smiled faintly.
“Nothing.”
Luca stared at him.
“My father died in a boating accident.”
Angelo said nothing.
The room became very still.
Luca’s voice lowered.
“Did he?”
“Focus on the present.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I almost laughed despite everything.
Sophie’s line.
My line.
Now his.
Angelo looked annoyed.
“Your father and I disagreed.”
“About Arden?”
“About many things.”
“Did you kill him?”
Marco shifted.
Angelo did not answer.
That silence was worse than yes.
Luca’s face emptied.
I knew that look now.
Rage locked behind control.
Dangerous because it was controlled.
I slid my hand beneath the napkins.
My fingers touched the radio.
I pressed the side button.
No idea what channel it was on.
No idea who might hear.
I whispered without moving my lips much.
“Twenty-six. Conference room.”
Marco’s eyes snapped toward me.
“What did you say?”
I froze.
He stepped away from Luca.
Wrong move.
Luca turned instantly.
His elbow struck Marco’s wrist.
The gun fired.
Glass exploded.
Sophie screamed.
The gray-suited man reached for his weapon.
I shoved the coffee cart into him with everything I had.
Hot coffee crashed across his chest.
He yelled and stumbled backward.
“Sophie!”
She ran.
Not toward Luca.
Toward me.
Exactly as we had silently agreed.
I grabbed her and dropped behind the heavy conference table.
Another gunshot.
Then shouting erupted from the service corridor.
“Police! Drop it!”
The catering radio had worked.
Angelo ran toward his office.
The gray-suited man raised his gun.
An officer fired.
He went down.
Marco and Luca fought near the broken glass wall.
Marco was younger than Angelo.
Stronger than I expected.
But Luca fought like a man who had just learned the person in front of him had helped terrorize his daughter.
One punch.
Two.
Marco hit him back.
Luca staggered.
Marco reached for the fallen gun.
I saw it.
“Luca!”
He turned.
Too late.
Marco grabbed the weapon.
Raised it.
A shot exploded.
Luca jerked.
My heart stopped.
Then Marco fell.
An officer stood behind him.
Luca looked down at himself.
No blood.
Not hit.
I nearly collapsed.
He looked at me.
Then at Sophie.
“Stay down!”
Angelo disappeared into his office.
An alarm sounded.
The rooftop.
“He’s going to the helipad,” an officer shouted.
Luca started after him.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Police can take him.”
“He killed my father.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
“And Sophie is right here.”
That stopped him.
I pointed at his daughter.
“She needs you more than revenge does.”
His face changed.
He looked at Sophie.
She was crouched beside me, crying.
“Daddy.”
Everything in him broke.
He dropped to his knees.
Sophie ran into his arms.
He held her so tightly I could see his hands shaking.
“I’m sorry.”
She buried her face in his neck.
“I knew you’d come.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You came.”
“I should never have—”
She pulled back.
“Mia says guilt is for later.”
Luca looked at me over her shoulder.
Despite everything, I smiled.
He laughed once.
Broken.
Relieved.
Then officers dragged Marco away in handcuffs.
He looked at Luca.
“This isn’t over.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“For you, it is.”
A helicopter engine roared above us.
Angelo.
Police shouted through radios.
Rooftop teams moved.
We heard the engine rise.
Then cut.
A minute later, an officer entered.
“Bellini is in custody.”
Luca closed his eyes.
Done.
Not everything.
But enough.
Three days later, Vanessa remained in the hospital under guard.
Angelo and Marco were both charged.
Paul Rennick survived.
Ethan needed seven stitches and complained more about missing class than being kidnapped.
I needed two more weeks of antibiotics and strict instructions not to work.
Luca enforced those instructions like federal law.
Friday came again.
At seven p.m., I was sitting on the couch in the TV room wearing jeans instead of a maid uniform.
Sophie sat between Luca and me.
Three bowls of popcorn waited on the table.
She held up two DVDs.
“Comedy or princess?”
Luca looked horrified.
“Those are my only choices?”
“Yes.”
“Mia?”
I shrugged.
“Democracy.”
“I own the house.”
Sophie gasped.
“That’s not democracy.”
I laughed.
Luca looked at me.
The room quieted in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
Sophie noticed.
Of course she did.
She narrowed her eyes.
“You two are weird.”
I looked away.
Luca smiled.
“Pick the movie, Soph.”
She chose the princess.
Of course.
Halfway through, she fell asleep.
Again.
Luca covered her with a blanket.
Then he looked at me.
“You’re not coming back as staff.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“So I’m fired?”
“No.”
“That sounds fired.”
“You’re on leave.”
“You said I’m not coming back as staff.”
“I didn’t say you’re not coming back.”
My heart did something stupid.
“Luca.”
His eyes held mine.
“I don’t know what this is yet.”
Neither did I.
He continued.
“But I know I can’t ask you to clean my house on Monday and pretend Friday didn’t happen.”
I swallowed.
“Which Friday?”
A faint smile.
“All of them.”
I looked at Sophie.
Sleeping safely between us.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know.”
“Not a job. Not money. Not—”
“You.”
I stopped.
His voice was quiet.
“I know I don’t owe you. I’m not offering because I owe you.”
“What are you offering?”
“Time.”
My pulse quickened.
“Time for what?”
“To find out whether you still call me arrogant when I’m not your boss.”
I smiled despite myself.
“You are arrogant.”
“There it is.”
“And controlling.”
“I’m working on that.”
“And impossible.”
“So are you.”
“That doesn’t help your argument.”
“It helps mine.”
We were both smiling now.
Then his expression softened.
“Mia.”
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
The question surprised me more than if he had simply done it.
Maybe because Vanessa had spent months using power like a weapon.
Maybe because my father had taught me that asking was optional.
Maybe because Luca Moretti, who ordered entire rooms without raising his voice, had decided not to order this.
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He leaned across the small space between us.
Slowly.
Giving me every chance to move.
I didn’t.
His mouth touched mine.
Gentle.
Brief.
Nothing like the chaos that had brought us there.
When he pulled back, Sophie’s sleepy voice came from between us.
“Finally.”
We both froze.
Her eyes were still closed.
I covered my face.
Luca stared at his daughter.
“You were awake?”
“No.”
“You just talked.”
“I’m sleeping.”
I started laughing.
Luca did too.
For the first time since I had entered the Moretti house, the sound did not feel borrowed.
It felt like something we were allowed to keep.
Then Luca’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at it.
His smile disappeared.
I noticed immediately.
“What?”
He stared at the screen.
A message from his attorney.
One sentence.
ANGELO BELLINI HAS REQUESTED A PRIVATE MEETING.
Below it:
HE SAYS HE HAS PROOF YOUR FATHER IS ALIVE.
Luca did not move.
Neither did I.
Sophie opened her eyes.
“What happened?”
Luca looked at me.
The night had finally become quiet.
Apparently, quiet did not mean over.
He turned the phone facedown.
Then he looked at his daughter.
“Nothing tonight.”
Sophie frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Luca picked up the remote.
“It means Friday movie night is still Friday movie night.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
May you like
Whatever waited outside that room could wait sixty more minutes.
For once, nobody was cancelling.
