Chapter 2 - The Locked Cabin
Sophia spent the afternoon avoiding her husband.
On a yacht, she discovered, avoiding someone was much harder than it sounded.
She read beside the pool without absorbing a single sentence. She walked the upper deck twice. She stood at the rail and watched sunlight fracture across the Caribbean until the endless water made her feel strangely small.
Antonio remained behind the smoked-glass doors of his office.
Men entered.
Men left.
Once, Sophia heard Marco raise his voice.
That alone frightened her.
Marco never raised his voice.
At sunset, Elena appeared carrying a cream silk dress.
“Mr. Russo asked that you wear this to dinner.”
Sophia looked at it.
“Did Mr. Russo also choose what I’m allowed to think during dinner?”
Elena fought a smile.
“I believe that remains at your discretion.”
Sophia liked her immediately.
She changed reluctantly.
The dress fit perfectly.
Of course it did.
When Sophia reached the aft terrace, Antonio was already waiting.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
The silence unsettled her more than a compliment would have.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Antonio pulled out her chair.
“You look beautiful.”
The simplicity of the words disarmed her.
Dinner began quietly.
No guards hovered nearby. No telephones sat beside Antonio's plate. Even Marco had disappeared.
The sun lowered behind the horizon, turning the sea copper and gold.
For the first time since their marriage, Sophia found herself sitting across from Antonio Russo without feeling that they were negotiating something.
Then his phone vibrated.
Antonio looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
Not dramatically.
That was the problem.
Antonio's face became completely still.
He stood.
“Excuse me.”
“Business?”
“Yes.”
Sophia watched him disappear inside.
Five minutes became fifteen.
Then thirty.
Her dinner cooled.
Eventually she stood and returned to the master suite.
She was reaching for the handle when she heard Antonio's voice through the adjoining door.
“Who else knows?”
Silence.
Then:
“No. Her father doesn't know.”
Sophia stopped breathing.
Antonio continued.
“And Sophia absolutely cannot find out.”
Her blood went cold.
She moved closer.
“You were supposed to destroy it before the wedding.”
Sophia's hand closed around the doorframe.
Her father.
The wedding.
Something Antonio was hiding from her.
A floorboard creaked beneath her foot.
Silence followed.
Sophia stepped back.
The adjoining door opened.
Antonio stood there.
His phone remained in his hand.
Their eyes met.
“How much did you hear?”
“Enough.”
“Sophia—”
“What did you destroy?”
His jaw tightened.
“What are you hiding about my father?”
“Not here.”
She laughed once in disbelief.
“We're in the middle of the ocean.”
“Exactly.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Antonio crossed toward her.
Sophia retreated.
“No. Don't touch me.”
He stopped instantly.
That surprised her.
“I want the truth.”
“You'll have it.”
“When?”
“When you're safe.”
Her anger sharpened.
“Safe from whom?”
Before Antonio could answer, an explosion tore through the night.
The entire yacht lurched.
Sophia screamed as the floor shifted beneath her.
Antonio caught her before she struck the dresser.
The lights vanished.
Emergency alarms erupted.
Then came Marco's voice from the corridor.
“Antonio!”
The door burst open.
Marco had a gun in his hand.
“Engine compartment. Fire suppression activated.”
“Accident?”
Marco's expression answered before his mouth did.
“No.”
Antonio turned toward Sophia.
The man who had spent three weeks treating their marriage like a contract disappeared.
“Sophia, shoes. Now.”
“What happened?”
“Shoes.”
She obeyed.
Antonio pulled a handgun from a locked drawer.
Sophia stared.
He noticed.
“Stay behind me.”
Smoke began curling through the corridor.
Crew members rushed toward emergency stations.
Then gunfire cracked somewhere above them.
Sophia froze.
That was not an engine malfunction.
Antonio shoved her behind the reinforced wall beside the bed.
“Someone boarded us.”
Her face drained.
“How?”
“I intend to find out.”
Another burst of gunfire.
Antonio opened the adjoining door.
Sophia grabbed his arm.
He looked down at her hand.
“Don't go.”
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Something changed in his face.
For one second, the feared Antonio Russo looked almost human.
Then he covered her hand with his.
“Marco stays with you.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“If they're here because of you, hiding me in a bedroom isn't going to solve anything.”
Antonio stared at her.
Then Marco spoke.
“She's right.”
Antonio gave him a murderous look.
Marco shrugged.
“Still right.”
Another explosion sounded.
This one smaller.
Closer.
Antonio made a decision.
“Emergency tender.”
They moved.
The yacht had become a maze of red emergency lighting and smoke.
Antonio kept Sophia directly behind him.
At the upper stairwell, a masked man appeared.
Everything happened in seconds.
The stranger lifted his weapon.
Antonio fired first.
Sophia flinched at the deafening sound.
The man collapsed.
She stared.
Antonio stepped between her and the body.
“Don't look.”
Too late.
They reached the stern.
A rigid-hull tender hung above the water.
Crewmen were already lowering it.
Then Marco shouted.
“Down!”
Gunfire tore across the deck.
Antonio slammed Sophia against the protective wall and covered her body with his.
Glass exploded nearby.
She felt him jerk.
“Antonio?”
“I'm fine.”
But when he moved, blood stained his white shirt.
Sophia's fear changed instantly.
“You're hit.”
“Graze.”
“That's more than a graze.”
“Sophia.”
He gripped her face.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“You get into that boat. Whatever happens next, you do exactly what Marco says.”
“What about you?”
“I'll be behind you.”
“You promise?”
Antonio hesitated.
Wrong answer.
“Antonio.”
“I promise.”
Marco got her aboard.
Seconds later Antonio jumped down beside them.
The tender accelerated into darkness as flames flickered aboard the yacht behind them.
Sophia turned toward Antonio.
Blood continued spreading down his side.
“Let me see.”
“It's nothing.”
She ripped open the first-aid compartment.
“You're bleeding all over a million-dollar boat.”
“Half million.”
She stared at him.
“Seriously?”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Apparently Antonio Russo made jokes while bleeding.
Sophia pressed gauze against his wound.
He inhaled sharply.
“Hold still.”
“Yes, doctor.”
“Keep annoying me and I'll throw you overboard.”
“There she is.”
“Who?”
“The woman I married.”
Sophia's hands stopped.
Antonio's smile disappeared.
For a moment there was only wind, darkness, and the burning yacht shrinking behind them.
Then Marco's satellite phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression darkened.
“Boss.”
Antonio looked up.
“They found the tracker.”
“Where?”
Marco's gaze moved to Sophia.
“Sewn into Mrs. Russo's suitcase.”
Sophia went still.
Antonio's eyes became lethal.
“My suitcase?”
She whispered.
Marco nodded.
“Someone knew exactly where she was going.”
Sophia looked at her husband.
And suddenly she understood.
May you like
This attack might not have been aimed at Antonio at all.
It might have been aimed at her.
