Chapter 2 - Bride Number Four
Clara stopped breathing.
The bedroom door opened three inches.
Then five.
She grabbed the nearest weapon she could find.
Unfortunately, it was a hairbrush.
"Don't come any closer."
The door stopped.
A man's voice came from the hallway.
"Miss Bennett?"
Clara tightened her grip on the brush.
"Who are you?"
"Marco."
She remembered him. The security man Adrian had ordered to find Thomas Grayson.
"Prove it."
There was a pause.
"How?"
"I don't know. Say something only Marco would know."
Another pause.
"You fell into Mr. Vale approximately forty minutes ago."
Clara frowned.
"Everyone downstairs knows that."
"You then smoothed his shirt with both hands while six armed men considered having heart attacks."
Clara lowered the brush slightly.
"Okay. That's pretty specific."
Marco pushed the door open.
He stopped when he saw the object in her hand.
"Is that your weapon?"
"It's what I had."
"I see."
"You don't sound impressed."
"I've been threatened with worse."
Clara put the brush down.
Then she remembered the photograph.
Her humor disappeared.
"Someone was in my room."
Marco's expression changed instantly.
"What?"
Clara handed him the envelope.
He didn't touch it.
"Where did you find that?"
"Inside my suitcase."
Marco looked toward the hallway.
"Don't touch anything else."
"I already touched everything else. They're my clothes."
"Stay here."
"People keep saying that to me."
Marco reached inside his jacket for his phone.
Clara caught his wrist.
"Wait."
His eyes dropped to her hand.
She immediately released him.
"Sorry. Apparently grabbing dangerous men is becoming a habit."
"What?"
"Nothing. Look at the photograph."
Marco took it carefully by the edges.
His face changed when he saw the blonde woman.
"You know her."
It wasn't a question.
Marco turned the picture over.
YOU ARE FOUR.
His jaw tightened.
"Marco."
He said nothing.
"Who is she?"
"You should speak to Mr. Vale."
"That's the answer people give when they don't want to answer."
"Because this isn't mine to explain."
"It became mine when someone put her photograph in my underwear."
Marco looked at her.
"My suitcase," Clara clarified. "It was in my suitcase."
He pulled out his phone.
"Nobody leaves the property."
Clara watched him make the call.
Within minutes, the quiet mansion transformed.
Men appeared in hallways.
Doors were checked.
Security footage was reviewed.
The gates were locked.
And Adrian arrived.
He entered Clara's bedroom with such controlled fury that the room seemed smaller around him.
"Where?"
Clara pointed.
"The suitcase."
He crossed to it.
"Did you see anyone?"
"No."
"Hear anything?"
"The floorboard."
"Before Marco arrived?"
"Yes."
Adrian turned toward Marco.
"Camera footage."
"Already checking."
"Who entered this floor?"
"Household staff. Elena. Two security officers."
"And Clara?"
"She was escorted directly here."
Adrian looked at the photograph.
Something passed through his expression.
Recognition.
And guilt.
Clara noticed both.
"Her name."
He didn't answer.
"Adrian."
His gaze shifted to Clara.
"You said I should know what happened to the third woman. So tell me her name."
"Madeline Cross."
Clara looked at the photograph again.
"Who was she?"
"An accountant."
"Your accountant?"
"No."
"Then why was she supposed to marry you?"
"The same reason you are."
"Money?"
"Partly."
Clara folded her arms.
"What does partly mean?"
Adrian walked toward the windows.
Outside, men were moving across the grounds.
"Madeline's father owned a company my family wanted to acquire. He proposed the marriage."
"Romantic."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"Did you meet her?"
"Once."
Clara waited.
"She was afraid of me."
There was no self-pity in his voice.
That somehow made it worse.
"Because you're Mafia?"
"Because of everything."
Adrian gestured vaguely at himself.
Clara understood.
His height.
His shoulders.
His reputation.
His silence.
The rumors.
The stories people told about Adrian Vale because fear was easier than asking whether any of them were true.
"She disappeared two days later?"
"Yes."
"After meeting you?"
"Yes."
"Did she say anything before disappearing?"
Adrian looked at her.
"She called me."
"When?"
"The night before."
"What did she say?"
For the first time, Adrian hesitated.
"That she'd changed her mind."
Clara frowned.
"About marrying you?"
"No."
"Then about what?"
"Running."
The word landed heavily.
Clara stepped closer.
"She told you she was going to marry you?"
"Yes."
"After being afraid of you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Did she explain?"
"She said she'd discovered something."
Clara glanced at the photograph.
"What?"
"She wouldn't tell me over the phone."
"And then she disappeared."
"Before sunrise."
Clara's eyes moved to the words on the back.
YOU ARE FOUR.
Someone wasn't simply threatening her.
Someone was connecting her to Madeline.
"Did Madeline ever come inside this house?"
"No."
"Then how was this photograph taken outside?"
Adrian looked at it.
The Vale estate stood clearly behind Madeline.
The same staircase.
The same front entrance.
The same stone columns Clara had passed less than an hour earlier.
Adrian's face hardened.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because the photograph would have been taken after she disappeared."
Clara felt cold.
Marco spoke quietly.
"We need to verify that."
Adrian handed him the picture.
"Do it."
Marco left.
Clara sat on the edge of the bed.
This morning her biggest problem had been whether she'd remembered to turn off the bakery's second oven.
Now a missing bride was apparently sending her photographs from the past.
Or someone wanted her to believe that.
Adrian crouched in front of the suitcase.
His size made the movement almost awkward.
He examined the lock.
"Broken?"
"No."
He touched the latch.
"Someone knew the combination."
Clara stared.
"Only I know it."
"What is it?"
"I'm not telling you."
Adrian slowly looked at her.
"Really?"
"I just met you."
"We're getting married tomorrow."
"That doesn't automatically give you my suitcase password."
To Clara's surprise, he nodded.
"Fair."
He stood.
"What?"
"You're right."
"That's it?"
"What were you expecting?"
"An argument."
"Why?"
"You're a Mafia boss."
Adrian stared at her.
"Do you believe everything newspapers write?"
"No."
"Good."
"Did you really throw a man through a restaurant window?"
"Yes."
Clara blinked.
"Oh."
"He was trying to kill my brother."
"Context helps."
Adrian almost smiled again.
Then footsteps approached.
Elena entered without knocking.
She was holding Clara's marriage contract.
"We have a problem."
"Another one?" Clara asked.
Elena placed the contract on the desk.
"I contacted the attorney who drafted this."
"Thomas?"
"No. Thomas delivered it. Our family attorney drafted the original."
She opened a folder.
Two contracts lay side by side.
Clara immediately saw the difference.
Her version contained an extra paragraph.
Section fourteen.
She leaned closer.
"What is that?"
Elena read it aloud.
"In the event the marital arrangement terminates due to death, disappearance, incapacity, or criminal detention of either party, all financial obligations shall be considered satisfied."
Clara stared.
"My contract says that?"
"Yours does."
Adrian picked up the original.
"And ours doesn't."
Someone had modified Clara's contract before she signed it.
"Thomas?" she whispered.
"We don't know," Elena said.
Clara looked at Adrian.
"If I disappear, the contract ends."
"Yes."
"If I die—"
"Don't."
His voice was sharp.
Clara stopped.
Adrian stepped closer.
"Don't say that."
The intensity surprised her.
"So what do we do?"
"Cancel the wedding."
Clara stared at him.
"No."
"Clara."
"You don't get to decide that."
"Someone entered your room."
"And?"
"Someone altered your contract."
"I noticed."
"Someone is threatening you."
"Also noticed."
"Then you're leaving."
"No."
Adrian's expression became dangerous.
Elena quietly moved toward the door.
Clara noticed.
Coward.
"You don't understand the situation," Adrian said.
"Neither do you."
"That's precisely the problem."
Clara stood.
He towered over her.
She had to tilt her head ridiculously far backward.
Still, she didn't move.
"You said three women rejected you."
His jaw tightened.
"That isn't relevant."
"It is to me."
"Why?"
"Because you're doing it again."
His brow furrowed.
"What?"
"You're deciding for me."
"I'm keeping you alive."
"By sending me away without asking what I want."
"What you want isn't important if you're dead."
Clara stared at him.
Then she poked one finger into his chest.
Elena stopped near the doorway.
Adrian looked down at Clara's finger.
"Did you just poke me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're being irritating."
No one had probably said that to Adrian Vale in twenty years.
Possibly ever.
Clara continued.
"I came here because my father's bakery is about to disappear. I signed the agreement because I made a choice. Not because Thomas forced me. Not because you bought me."
"I never said I bought you."
"I know. That's why I'm still standing here."
Adrian's anger faded slightly.
"If I leave now, whoever put that photograph in my suitcase wins."
"This isn't a game."
"I know."
"Then act like it."
"I am."
She lowered her voice.
"Madeline found something before she disappeared."
Adrian went still.
"Someone altered my contract. Someone knows my suitcase combination. Someone got inside a locked estate and left that picture."
Clara pointed toward the photograph.
"If I leave, we learn nothing."
"If you stay, you could become a target."
"I already am."
That silenced him.
Elena slowly returned.
"She's right."
Adrian looked at her.
"Don't encourage her."
"I'm not. I'm pointing out the obvious."
Clara smiled.
"I like her."
"You shouldn't."
Elena ignored him.
"Whoever is doing this expected Clara to find that photograph."
"Exactly," Clara said.
"They want a reaction."
Adrian looked between them.
"No."
Clara frowned.
"No what?"
"No wedding tomorrow."
"Adrian—"
"The wedding happens tonight."
Both women stared at him.
Clara's mouth opened.
"Tonight?"
"If someone expects twenty-four hours, we don't give them twenty-four hours."
Elena's expression shifted.
"That could work."
"Excuse me," Clara said. "There is a bride standing here."
Adrian looked down at her.
"Will you marry me tonight?"
It was absurd.
Completely absurd.
Clara thought of the bakery.
Her father.
Madeline Cross.
The photograph.
And the strange loneliness she'd seen behind Adrian's eyes.
"Do I get cake?"
Elena made a strangled sound.
Adrian stared at Clara for several seconds.
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"Whatever kind you want."
"Chocolate."
"Done."
"With raspberry filling."
"Clara."
"I'm negotiating."
His mouth twitched.
"Raspberry."
She extended her hand.
"Then yes."
Adrian looked at it.
Instead of shaking it, he wrapped his enormous hand gently around hers.
Something changed.
Just for a second.
Clara felt it.
So did he.
His thumb rested against her knuckles.
Neither moved.
Elena cleared her throat.
"I'll arrange everything."
She left.
Adrian slowly released Clara.
"There's another condition."
Clara groaned.
"Separate bedrooms?"
"No."
Her eyes widened.
Adrian realized what he'd said.
"I mean security."
"Oh."
Clara's cheeks warmed.
"Of course."
"You won't be alone."
"You're assigning me a guard?"
"Two."
"That's excessive."
"Three."
"Stop negotiating backward."
For the first time, Adrian actually laughed.
It was quiet.
Brief.
But it transformed his entire face.
Clara forgot what she was going to say.
Then Marco appeared at the doorway.
His expression erased the moment.
"We found Grayson."
Adrian turned.
"Where?"
"Hospital."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
Clara exhaled.
Marco didn't.
"But there's something else."
He handed Adrian a tablet.
Security footage filled the screen.
The image showed the estate entrance three nights earlier.
Clara leaned closer.
A woman stood near the gates.
Blonde hair.
Dark coat.
Her face turned toward the camera.
Clara's stomach dropped.
Madeline Cross.
"That's impossible," Adrian whispered.
Marco tapped the timestamp.
Three nights ago.
The woman who had disappeared eleven months earlier had been standing outside Adrian's estate three nights before Clara arrived.
Then Madeline raised something toward the security camera.
A piece of paper.
Marco enlarged the image.
Four words were written across it.
DON'T LET HER MARRY HIM.
Clara felt Adrian's hand close protectively around her arm.
Before anyone could speak, every light in the bedroom went out.
A phone vibrated inside Clara's open suitcase.
Not hers.
A second phone.
One she had never seen before.
Its screen lit up in the darkness.
One new message appeared.
CLARA, ASK ADRIAN WHAT HAPPENED TO BRIDE NUMBER ONE.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
SHE'S IN THE HOUSE.
