Chapter 2 - The Woman in His Arms
My name is Elena Marlowe, and until that Tuesday, I had believed Dante Moretti could lie to everyone except me.
That was my first mistake.
My second was believing what I saw.
Three months earlier, I had driven to the Moretti Foundation offices in Lower Manhattan because Dante had forgotten the silver cigarette case his father had given him before he died. Dante had quit smoking years ago, but he carried the case to every important meeting.
Superstition, he called it.
Sentiment, I knew.
I found his office empty.
His assistant told me he had gone to the Moretti-owned Aurelia Hotel.
I should have left the case on his desk.
Instead, I drove there.
Room 1807.
The number would live in my memory forever.
The door was partly open when I arrived.
I heard a woman laugh.
Then Dante's voice.
Low.
Intimate.
I pushed the door farther.
Dante stood beside the bed with his jacket removed and his white shirt open at the collar. A beautiful brunette named Bianca Valenti stood against him.
I knew Bianca.
Everyone did.
Her father, Salvatore Valenti, controlled half the illegal gambling operations between New York and Atlantic City. Bianca had spent years appearing beside politicians, athletes, and men rich enough to mistake expensive attention for love.
Her hand rested against Dante's chest.
His hand was at her waist.
Then she kissed him.
And Dante did not immediately push her away.
That was all I stayed to see.
The cigarette case fell from my hand.
Dante looked toward the sound.
“Elena?”
I ran.
He followed me into the hallway.
“Elena, wait.”
I reached the elevator.
“What exactly should I wait for?”
His face had changed.
“Elena, what you saw—”
“Don't.”
The elevator doors opened.
He caught them before they closed.
“Let me explain.”
“You always said explanations were what guilty people offered after the truth became inconvenient.”
That stopped him.
I stepped inside.
“Congratulations, Dante. You finally became the kind of man you taught me never to trust.”
The doors closed between us.
He called forty-three times that night.
I answered none.
Within two days, I moved out of the penthouse.
Within a week, I learned Bianca had been seen entering Moretti properties several times during the previous month.
That was enough.
Or I thought it was.
Now, three months later, I stood in the bathroom of Dante's ballroom staring at myself in the mirror.
My mascara had survived.
My dignity had barely managed the same.
The door opened behind me.
I expected another guest.
Instead, Bianca Valenti walked in.
She wore black.
Not elegant black.
Funeral black.
Our eyes met in the mirror.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she locked the door.
Every instinct in my body sharpened.
“If you've come to congratulate yourself,” I said, “save it.”
Bianca looked exhausted.
That surprised me.
“You need to leave the ballroom.”
I laughed once.
“You don't get to order me anywhere.”
“Elena.”
Something in her voice made me turn.
Fear.
Real fear.
Bianca reached into her clutch and removed a small black flash drive.
“Dante didn't sleep with me.”
My heart stopped.
“Don't.”
“He didn't.”
“I watched you kiss him.”
“Yes.”
“And he let you.”
“For three seconds.”
“Three seconds were enough.”
“I know.”
Her answer stole some of my anger.
Bianca looked toward the door.
“My father ordered me to get close to Dante.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“To find out whether the Morettis knew someone inside their organization was stealing from them.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Everything.”
She pushed the flash drive toward me.
I didn't take it.
Bianca swallowed.
“The money wasn't the objective. The theft was financing something bigger. My father thought Dante was responsible. Dante thought my father was.”
“And you?”
“I discovered they were both wrong.”
A knock sounded at the bathroom door.
Bianca flinched.
“Elena, take this.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is behind this knows Dante loves you.”
The words struck harder than they should have.
“He has a strange way of showing it.”
“I kissed him because my father had someone photographing us. Dante knew.”
I stared at her.
“He knew?”
“He was supposed to make my father believe we were negotiating an alliance.”
The humiliation returned, sharper.
“So he used me.”
“No. He tried to keep you outside it.”
“By letting me believe he cheated?”
“He didn't know you were coming.”
That didn't absolve him.
It almost made things worse.
Dante had watched me leave believing the worst and then allowed me to spend three months destroying myself because his secrets mattered more than my trust.
Another knock.
Harder.
Bianca grabbed my hand and closed my fingers around the drive.
“Listen carefully. Someone intends to kill Dante tonight.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“The man you danced with earlier wasn't flirting with you.”
My blood cooled.
“He was searching your dress.”
“For what?”
“For this.”
She touched the flash drive.
“How would I have it?”
“Because I told them I gave it to you.”
I stared at her.
“You did what?”
“It was the only way to keep myself alive long enough to get here.”
The handle moved.
Bianca whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Then the lights went out.
A scream sounded somewhere outside.
I heard the bathroom door crash inward.
Someone grabbed me.
I fought blindly.
A hand covered my mouth.
Then a familiar voice spoke against my ear.
“Elena. It's me.”
Dante.
Emergency lighting flickered red.
He pulled me behind him.
Two of his men entered.
Bianca was gone.
The window above the vanity stood open.
Dante turned to me.
“What did she give you?”
I froze.
“How do you know she gave me anything?”
His eyes dropped to my closed fist.
“Elena.”
For the first time that night, the mafia boss who terrified an entire city did not look jealous.
He looked afraid.
“Whatever Bianca told you,” he said, “you cannot trust her.”
I opened my hand.
The flash drive was gone.
Only a folded piece of paper remained.
Three words had been written across it.
ASK DANTE ABOUT LUCA.
I looked up.
Dante's face lost all color.
“Who is Luca?”
His silence answered before his mouth did.
Someone existed whom I had never heard about.
Someone important enough to frighten Dante Moretti.
May you like
Finally, he said the words that changed everything.
“My brother.”
