Chapter 2 - The Rule Behind the Marriage
Roman reached the garage in under a minute.
Serena's car was still there.
Driver's door open.
Engine running.
No Serena.
“Lock the building,” Roman ordered.
Marco was already issuing commands.
Roman crossed the concrete floor and saw Serena's clutch near the rear tire.
He picked it up.
A drop of blood marked the clasp.
His entire body went still.
“Boss.”
Roman looked toward Marco.
“Find her.”
“We will.”
“No.”
Roman's voice dropped.
“You find her now.”
A sound came from behind the next row of cars.
Roman drew his weapon.
Marco did the same.
They moved.
Roman rounded a black SUV.
Serena stood there.
Alive.
She was gripping a metal tire iron.
A man lay unconscious at her feet.
Roman stopped.
Serena stared at him.
“What?”
He looked at the man.
Then at her.
“You hit him?”
“He grabbed me.”
Roman holstered his weapon and crossed the distance.
“Are you hurt?”
“My hand.”
He took it before remembering his own rule.
A thin cut crossed her palm.
He stared at the blood.
Serena pulled away.
“I'll survive.”
The words from the balcony.
Roman flinched.
Marco crouched beside the unconscious man.
“Not one of ours.”
Roman's attention remained on Serena.
“You're coming home.”
She laughed once.
“No.”
“Someone tried to abduct you.”
“And somehow you still sound more upset about disobedience than kidnapping.”
“Serena.”
“Tell me why.”
Roman looked around the garage.
Cameras.
Security.
His men.
Threats he could not see.
“Not here.”
She shook her head.
“You've had six years to find somewhere private enough.”
She started toward her car.
Roman blocked her.
“Move.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Are you actually going to imprison me?”
“If the alternative is burying you?”
She went pale.
Roman regretted the words immediately.
“That's what this is?” she asked. “You think someone's going to kill me?”
He said nothing.
Serena stared at him.
Then everything changed in her expression.
The hurt remained.
But now there was fear.
“Roman.”
He exhaled.
“Come home. I'll tell you what I can.”
“What you can?”
“What I know.”
That was different.
She heard it.
Twenty minutes later, they entered the Duca penthouse through the private elevator.
Serena walked directly into the library.
Roman followed.
She turned.
“Start.”
He removed his jacket.
“Three months ago, someone began testing my security.”
“What does that mean?”
“Cars following routes. Cameras appearing near properties. Employees being approached.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I increased your protection.”
“I didn't ask what you did. I asked why you didn't tell me.”
“Because fear makes people change routines.”
“You mean you wanted me predictable.”
“Yes.”
She stared.
“At least that's honest.”
Roman placed both hands on the desk.
“Two weeks ago, we intercepted a message mentioning a woman connected to me.”
“Me.”
“I didn't know.”
“Who else would it be?”
Roman looked away.
Serena caught it.
Her stomach tightened.
“Who else?”
“My sister. My aunt. Several employees.”
“Don't insult me.”
He looked back.
“The message said only ‘the woman he protects.’”
Serena almost laughed.
“Then why did you assume it was me?”
Roman said nothing.
“Roman.”
His voice was low.
“Because you're the one I protect most.”
Silence.
Serena's anger faltered.
Only briefly.
“You have an interesting way of showing it.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised her.
Roman rarely admitted fault before he had exhausted every possible defense.
She sat down.
“Why couldn't I touch you?”
Roman's eyes closed for half a second.
“Because the message on my phone tonight said there was a spotter watching the balcony.”
Serena remembered his body changing.
The glance toward neighboring buildings.
“You thought someone was watching us.”
“Yes.”
“And touching you would identify me?”
“They already knew your face. I thought they were trying to confirm your importance.”
“I'm your wife. The entire city knows that.”
“Knowing you're my wife and knowing you're my weakness are different things.”
The room became very quiet.
Serena looked at him.
“Your weakness?”
Roman swallowed.
“Yes.”
She should have felt comforted.
Instead anger rose again.
“So you humiliated me to protect me.”
“I made a bad decision quickly.”
“No, Roman. You made the same decision you've made for six years.”
He frowned.
“You decide what I can handle. You decide what I should know. You decide how close I'm allowed to stand.”
“That isn't fair.”
“Isn't it?”
She stood.
“When was the last time you held my hand outside this apartment?”
Roman couldn't answer.
“When was the last time you kissed me where someone could see?”
Nothing.
“When was the last time you introduced me as your wife without sounding like you were announcing a business acquisition?”
“Serena.”
“Six years.”
Her eyes filled.
“I spent six years thinking your distance meant something was wrong with me.”
His face changed.
“No.”
“You don't get to say that now.”
“There has never been anything wrong with you.”
“Then why did you make me feel invisible?”
Roman walked toward her.
She stepped back.
He stopped immediately.
That hurt more than if she had slapped him.
“When my father was killed,” Roman said, “my mother was standing beside him.”
Serena knew the story.
Not all of it.
Roman rarely discussed the assassination that had made him head of the Duca organization at twenty-seven.
“She survived,” Serena said.
“Physically.”
His voice became flat.
“She had held his hand when they entered the restaurant. Photographs ran the next morning. Every rival knew she mattered.”
“Roman, I am not your mother.”
“I know.”
“Then stop making me live her life.”
He looked at her.
“I don't know how.”
For the first time that night, Serena saw something beneath the control.
Not coldness.
Terror.
Roman Duca was terrified of loving something publicly.
She softened.
But only enough to understand him.
Not enough to forgive everything.
“Then learn.”
He nodded once.
“I'll try.”
Serena looked at her injured palm.
“Trying isn't enough anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
She removed her wedding ring.
Roman stared at it.
She placed it on his desk.
His face lost color.
“Serena.”
“I need space.”
“No.”
She looked at him sharply.
Roman corrected himself.
“Please.”
It might have been the first time she had ever heard Roman Duca use that word when afraid.
She nearly broke.
Nearly.
“I can't keep begging my husband to act like he's married to me.”
“You never had to beg.”
“I did. I just did it silently.”
She walked toward the door.
Roman didn't stop her.
His phone rang.
Marco.
Roman answered.
“What?”
A pause.
His eyes moved to Serena.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Send it.”
The call ended.
“What happened?” Serena asked.
Roman's phone chimed.
A photograph appeared.
Serena standing with Adrian in the ballroom.
His hand holding hers.
The image had been taken from above.
Roman enlarged it.
There was a timestamp.
It had been taken before Adrian approached her.
Someone had been waiting for the moment.
Then another image arrived.
Older.
Six years older.
Roman and Serena leaving their wedding ceremony.
A red circle surrounded Serena.
On the bottom someone had written a date.
Tomorrow's date.
Serena whispered, “What does that mean?”
Roman's phone rang again.
This time the caller ID displayed a name.
Roman stared at it.
Serena saw his face.
“Who is it?”
Roman answered slowly.
A woman's voice came through.
A voice Serena had heard only in old family videos.
A woman who had supposedly died four years before their wedding.
May you like
Roman whispered one word.
“Mother?”
