Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN RED
“Where did you hear that name?”
Dante’s voice had changed.
“Wrong question.”
“Elena.”
“Who was Lucia?”
A long silence followed.
Then Dante said, “I’m coming to you.”
“No.”
“This isn’t a conversation for the phone.”
“Then tell me where.”
An hour later, we met at a small Italian restaurant in Brooklyn that Dante’s father had loved.
The owner locked the front door behind us.
Dante chose a corner booth.
He didn’t order whiskey.
That told me everything.
I placed the photograph between us.
His eyes settled on it.
“Lucia Bianchi.”
“You remember her.”
“Yes.”
“Were you sleeping with her?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
I watched his face.
Dante had many flaws, but he was a terrible liar with me.
His left thumb always rubbed the edge of his index finger when he lied.
It remained still.
“Then why is your hand around her waist?”
“Because we were pretending.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“It’s true.”
“Explain.”
He leaned back.
“Twelve years ago, Victor Salerno was trying to force his way into my father’s shipping routes. Lucia worked for Victor.”
“As what?”
“An accountant.”
“And?”
“She discovered Victor was stealing from three families and laundering money through charities.”
My stomach tightened.
“She came to you?”
“She came to my father. He didn’t trust her. I did.”
“So you pretended she was your girlfriend?”
“To explain why she was around me.”
“What happened?”
Dante looked at the photograph again.
“She disappeared.”
The restaurant suddenly felt colder.
“Disappeared?”
“Three days after that picture was taken.”
“Did Victor kill her?”
“I’ve never been able to prove it.”
“And you never told me?”
“I met you two years later.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He looked directly at me.
“I didn’t tell you because Lucia became part of a world I wanted nowhere near you.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t protect someone by deciding which truths they’re allowed to know.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you?”
His expression tightened.
“I’m learning.”
I hated that those two words sounded sincere.
Dante reached into his jacket and placed a folded document on the table.
“What is that?”
“Something I should have given you years ago.”
I opened it.
It was a corporate filing.
My name appeared beside a percentage.
Twenty-five.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
“Your ownership interest in Caruso Atlantic.”
I stared at him.
“I don’t own twenty-five percent.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Since when?”
“The week after our wedding.”
My anger returned so quickly it almost made me dizzy.
“You gave me a quarter of your company without telling me?”
“My attorneys created a trust.”
“Why?”
“My father’s empire was unstable. If something happened to me, I wanted you protected.”
“You keep using that word.”
“Elena—”
“Protected. As if protection gives you permission to control what I know.”
He lowered his eyes.
“You’re right.”
Again.
It was becoming infuriating.
“Stop agreeing with me.”
A faint expression crossed his face.
“What would you prefer?”
“A fight.”
“I’ve spent eight years fighting the wrong people.”
That silenced me.
He continued.
“The waterfront acquisition Victor wants requires approval from seventy percent of Caruso Atlantic voting interests.”
I understood immediately.
“You need my shares.”
“Yes.”
“And Victor knows.”
“Yes.”
The photograph wasn’t merely intended to make me jealous.
Victor wanted me angry enough to vote against Dante.
I leaned back.
“What happens if I refuse?”
“Victor probably gets the terminals.”
“How much are they worth?”
“Financially? Around nine hundred million after redevelopment.”
“And otherwise?”
Dante hesitated.
“Otherwise, they control access to several routes Victor wants.”
There was the other world.
The one that lived beneath the legal paperwork.
I folded the document.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet.”
I studied him.
“You’re not asking me to vote with you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if I ask while you’re angry with me, I’m using our marriage to influence your decision.”
That was unexpectedly mature.
“Who are you?”
He almost smiled.
“Apparently a man receiving an accelerated education.”
I looked away before he could see the corner of my mouth move.
Then the restaurant window shattered.
Dante was across the table before I understood what had happened.
He pulled me down.
Glass rained across the floor.
The owner shouted from the kitchen.
Dante covered my body with his.
A second impact hit the brick outside.
Not bullets.
Something thrown.
His security team rushed in.
“Stay down.”
Seconds later, Nico appeared carrying a brick wrapped in paper.
“No shooter,” he said. “Car passed and threw this.”
Dante took the paper.
His face hardened.
I reached for it.
He resisted.
“Dante.”
Then handed it over.
The message read:
Lucia trusted a Caruso too.
Below that:
Ask him who betrayed her.
I looked at Dante.
For the first time since I had known him, genuine uncertainty appeared in his eyes.
“I didn’t betray Lucia.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
Nico stood unnaturally still.
I noticed.
Dante noticed me noticing.
Slowly, both of us looked at him.
“Nico?” Dante said.
His oldest friend went pale.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
Nico swallowed.
“I was hoping this would never come back.”
Dante rose.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing to Lucia.”
“Then talk.”
Nico looked at me.
“Lucia didn’t disappear because Victor discovered she was helping the Carusos.”
Dante’s expression changed.
Nico continued.
“She disappeared because somebody inside your father’s house gave Victor her location.”
“Who?”
Nico’s eyes lowered.
“I never had proof.”
Dante grabbed his jacket.
“Who?”
May you like
Nico finally answered.
“Your mother.”
