Chapter 1 - The Kiss Beneath the Staircase
Nadine dropped her suitcase and whispered, “Take your hands off my sister.”
Dante Castellano turned as a cream luggage tag swung from the handle.
Someone had written a phone number beneath Nadine’s name.
It belonged to the man Dante feared most.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Celeste’s hand was still pressed against Dante’s chest.
Dante’s tattooed fingers were still around her waist.
The maid near the fireplace had both hands over her mouth. One of Dante’s guards stood beneath the staircase, staring at the marble floor as though becoming invisible might save him from what had just happened.
Nadine heard her own breathing.
Slow.
Measured.
Wrong.
At eight months pregnant, she had learned that panic had physical consequences. Her obstetrician had warned her about stress. Dante himself had attended that appointment, holding her hand and asking twice whether the baby could recognize his voice.
That memory hurt more than the kiss.
“Nadine,” Dante said.
Celeste stepped away from him.
Nadine looked at her younger sister.
There was lipstick at the corner of Celeste’s mouth.
“Please,” Celeste whispered. “I can explain.”
Nadine almost laughed.
Instead, she put one hand beneath the curve of her belly.
The baby moved.
A tiny foot pressed against her palm.
Dante started toward her.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Dante Castellano was not a man who stopped because someone told him to.
Men twice his size obeyed him. Judges returned his calls. Business owners lowered their voices when his cars appeared outside. Nadine had spent six years watching rooms reorganize themselves around her husband.
But now he stopped.
Maybe because she was pregnant.
Maybe because something in her face frightened him.
“Put the suitcase down,” he said.
“I already did.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did.
He meant: stay.
He meant: do not embarrass me.
He meant: whatever you saw can be rearranged into something you are required to accept.
Dante glanced at the maid.
“Leave.”
The maid fled.
The guard followed after one look from him.
Now they were three.
Husband.
Wife.
Sister.
“Nadine,” Dante said, quieter now. “Put the suitcase down. You’re my wife, and you’re not going anywhere.”
She stared at him.
Then she calmly picked up the suitcase handle.
“I need a minute to breathe.”
“Nadine—”
“Just a minute.”
She turned.
“Nadine!”
She kept walking.
Her heels clicked against marble.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She expected Dante to grab her.
He didn’t.
She reached the corridor leading to the east wing before Celeste’s voice broke behind her.
“I’m sorry!”
Nadine stopped.
She did not turn around.
“For which part?”
Silence.
That was the answer.
Nadine continued upstairs.
She entered the bedroom she had shared with Dante for six years and locked the door.
Then she vomited.
Afterward, she sat on the bathroom floor, one hand against the cold marble and the other around her belly.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
She did not know whether she was talking to herself or her unborn daughter.
A knock came.
“Nadine.”
Dante.
She closed her eyes.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“We need to talk.”
“You were kissing my sister.”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
That time, Nadine laughed.
The sound frightened even her.
“What exactly did I misunderstand?”
Silence.
“Nadine, open the door.”
“No.”
“Celeste came to me because she was frightened.”
“So you put your tongue in her mouth?”
His palm struck the door.
Not violently.
Once.
A warning from a man accustomed to obedience.
Nadine stared at it.
Then Dante spoke more softly.
“You’re upset. I understand that.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I made a mistake.”
She waited.
There it was.
Not love.
Not remorse.
A mistake.
As if he had signed the wrong document.
“You have every right to be angry,” he continued. “But you’re eight months pregnant. You are not leaving this house tonight.”
Nadine stood.
“Is that concern or an order?”
Another silence.
“Both.”
That single word changed something.
She walked to the bedroom window.
Two black SUVs stood near the gates.
Another vehicle waited by the fountain.
Security.
Dante had doubled it two weeks earlier and told her there had been threats from a rival organization.
She had believed the guards were protecting her.
Now she wondered whether they were also keeping her in.
Her gaze fell to the suitcase.
She had packed it that morning for a weekend at their lake property.
The luggage tag was twisted backward.
Nadine frowned.
She had not written anything beneath her name.
She turned it over.
A phone number.
Nothing else.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
She remembered the driver who had loaded the suitcase into the car that afternoon. Not their usual driver. A temporary replacement, according to Dante’s security chief.
Nadine took out her phone.
She typed the number but did not call.
Another knock came.
This one lighter.
“Nadine?”
Celeste.
Nadine’s jaw tightened.
“Go away.”
“Nadine, please.”
“I said go away.”
“I need to tell you something.”
“You’ve told me enough.”
“No.” Celeste’s voice broke. “You don’t understand.”
Nadine walked toward the door but did not open it.
“Then explain.”
Celeste lowered her voice.
“I wasn’t kissing him because I wanted him.”
Nadine froze.
“What?”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Celeste stopped speaking.
Dante.
“Celeste,” he said.
“I was just—”
“Go downstairs.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Nadine heard her sister leave.
Dante remained outside.
“You should rest,” he said.
Nadine said nothing.
“I’ll sleep in my office.”
Still nothing.
“I love you.”
His footsteps receded.
Nadine stared at the door.
Then at the phone number.
She called.
One ring.
A man answered.
“You took longer than I expected.”
Nadine’s blood went cold.
“Who is this?”
“You shouldn’t say my name in that house.”
“How did you get my suitcase?”
“I didn't.”
“Then who wrote your number?”
“Someone who wants you alive.”
Nadine gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
The man paused.
“Adrian Vale.”
She stopped breathing.
Everybody in Dante’s world knew that name.
Adrian Vale controlled the northern ports. Dante had blamed him for two attacks on Castellano shipments. Three months earlier, Nadine had overheard Dante tell his security chief that Adrian was the only man he would never underestimate.
Dante had called him a monster.
“You’re his enemy.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“I’m not helping you yet.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have approximately six hours to decide whether you want help.”
Nadine looked toward the locked door.
“Why six?”
“Because by sunrise, Dante will know someone inside his organization gave you my number.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Who?”
“I won’t tell you over the phone.”
“Then I’m hanging up.”
“Nadine.”
She stopped.
His voice changed.
“You were never supposed to see that kiss tonight.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask yourself why your sister looked afraid before Dante touched her.”
Nadine remembered Celeste’s face.
Not during the kiss.
Immediately after.
Pale.
Terrified.
“Are you saying Dante forced her?”
“I’m saying nothing is what it looked like.”
“Then tell me what it was.”
“I can’t until you’re somewhere he cannot hear you.”
Nadine glanced around her bedroom.
Suddenly every smoke detector looked like a microphone.
Every camera outside looked different.
“What do you want from me?”
“For tonight? Nothing.”
“And tomorrow?”
“If you survive tonight, we’ll discuss tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Nadine stood motionless.
Then a message arrived.
UNKNOWN: CHECK THE BABY MONITOR.
She turned toward the nursery.
The monitor sat beside the crib.
She picked it up.
There was a tiny red light beneath the casing.
Not the normal power indicator.
Something else.
Her stomach tightened.
Then another message appeared.
UNKNOWN: DON’T REACT.
Nadine forced herself to breathe.
UNKNOWN: DANTE IS WATCHING.
She slowly placed the monitor down.
Then someone tried the bedroom door.
Once.
Twice.
The handle stopped moving.
A soft voice came from the other side.
It was Celeste.
“Nadine, I found the man who wrote that number.”
Nadine stepped closer.
May you like
Celeste whispered one more sentence.
“And Dante ordered him killed an hour ago…”
