Chapter 5 - The Woman He Chose to Protect
Emma read the message twice.
Bring the bride.
Her sister was terrified.
Her own name was now part of whatever game Marco believed he was playing.
Lorenzo took the phone from her.
“No.”
Emma turned.
“No what?”
“You are not going.”
“My sister is there.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t say stupid things.”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
Matteo entered.
“Vehicles ready.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“Emma stays.”
Matteo looked at Emma.
Then back at Lorenzo.
“I’m suddenly needed elsewhere.”
“Coward,” Emma said.
“Survivor,” Matteo replied.
Lorenzo waited until he left.
“Emma.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand Marco.”
“And you don’t understand sisters.”
“I can get Rachel out.”
“How?”
“Give him the ledger.”
“Then what?”
“Handle him.”
“That sounds suspiciously like murder.”
“He kidnapped your sister.”
“I noticed.”
Lorenzo paced.
Emma watched.
This was not the cold mafia boss.
This was a frightened man attempting to transform fear into control.
She stepped in front of him.
“Look at me.”
He did.
“You protected everyone by making decisions for them, didn’t you?”
His expression tightened.
“My father did that too.”
“This is different.”
“It always feels different to the person doing it.”
He looked away.
Emma touched his loosened tie.
The same tie.
He had worn it again.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me stand beside you.”
“That is exactly what terrifies me.”
Her voice softened.
“Why?”
Lorenzo was silent for several seconds.
Then:
“Because everyone I love becomes leverage.”
Emma’s hand stilled.
There it was.
Not I care.
Not I love you.
But close enough to change the air.
“Then maybe stop pretending distance protects people.”
Lorenzo looked down at her hand.
“I spent seventeen years believing my aunt died because she was connected to my family.”
“And she survived because people helped her.”
“I watched my father become colder every year after she disappeared.”
“You aren’t your father.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you make grilled cheese at one in the morning.”
His mouth moved.
She smiled.
“Terrifying criminals probably don’t use that as a character test.”
“They should.”
Lorenzo covered her hand with his.
“Stay behind me.”
“Beside you.”
“Behind.”
“Beside.”
He exhaled.
“Half a step behind.”
“Quarter.”
“Emma.”
“Fine. Quarter.”
At 11:40 p.m., they approached the abandoned Duca Hotel.
It had been closed for nine years.
Rain glazed the street.
Emma remained in the car with Lorenzo while Matteo coordinated men positioned several blocks away.
Marco had demanded no guards.
Technically, none were visible.
Emma wore a wire beneath her dress.
The Carter ledger inside her purse was a copy.
The real evidence sat with Isabella and a federal prosecutor Peter Carter had contacted before his death.
That had been Emma’s second idea.
Lorenzo had hated it too.
“Once the transmission starts,” Matteo said through the earpiece, “anything Marco says is recorded.”
“Assuming he talks,” Emma whispered.
“He likes talking,” Lorenzo said.
“Family trait?”
“No.”
“Good.”
They entered through the hotel lobby.
Dust covered the old marble.
Emergency lamps formed a path toward the ballroom.
Rachel sat in a chair at the center.
Her hands were bound.
A man stood behind her.
Marco Duca.
He looked nothing like Lorenzo.
Smaller.
Polished.
Expensive gray suit.
Warm smile.
The kind of man Emma would have trusted at a bank.
That frightened her.
“Cousin,” Marco said.
Lorenzo’s voice was ice.
“Release her.”
Marco looked at Emma.
“The famous bride.”
Emma folded her arms.
“You’ve had an incredibly inconvenient week.”
He laughed.
“I see what interested Lorenzo.”
“Apparently it wasn’t my balance.”
Lorenzo almost turned toward her.
Marco smiled.
“Everyone expected him to marry someone delicate.”
“Bad planning.”
“You aren’t afraid.”
“I’m exhausted. It’s similar.”
Rachel stared at Emma desperately.
Marco held out his hand.
“The ledger.”
Emma lifted the purse.
“Rachel first.”
“No.”
“Then we’ll stand here.”
Lorenzo murmured, “Emma.”
She ignored him.
Marco’s smile thinned.
“Your father had the same habit.”
“What?”
“Thinking he could negotiate from a weak position.”
Emma’s heart pounded.
The wire was recording.
“Did my father negotiate with you?”
Marco smiled.
“Many times.”
Lorenzo’s eyes became lethal.
“Careful.”
Marco shrugged.
“Peter Carter believed evidence could change men.”
“What did you believe?” Emma asked.
“That accidents change evidence.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Emma remained still.
“My father’s crash.”
Marco smiled.
There.
A confession.
Maybe not complete.
Enough to continue.
“You caused it?”
Marco tilted his head.
“I arranged a warning.”
“A warning that killed him.”
“He was supposed to survive.”
Emma’s nails dug into her palm.
Lorenzo shifted.
She touched his wrist.
Wait.
Marco noticed.
“Oh, remarkable.”
“What?”
“You control him.”
Emma almost laughed.
“Nobody controls Lorenzo.”
“You stopped him.”
“I asked him.”
“Same difference.”
“No. That difference is probably why everyone around you betrays you.”
Marco’s smile vanished.
Good.
Angry men talked.
“You don’t know anything about loyalty.”
“I know kidnapping someone’s sister isn’t usually included.”
Marco stepped toward her.
Lorenzo immediately moved between them.
Marco stopped.
“Still protecting people, cousin?”
“Yes.”
“It made your father weak.”
“No.”
“It made Peter weak.”
Emma’s throat tightened.
Marco looked over Lorenzo’s shoulder.
“Your father begged me to leave you out of it.”
Emma almost lost control.
But she remembered the microphone.
“What did he offer?”
“The company.”
“You created the debt.”
Marco smiled again.
“The debt was useful.”
“You wanted Carter Freight.”
“I wanted the routes.”
“For weapons.”
Silence.
Marco realized too late how much he had said.
His gaze dropped toward Emma’s dress.
Then her neckline.
The wire was hidden lower.
But suspicion had arrived.
He stepped backward.
“Take it off.”
Emma frowned.
“What?”
“The dress.”
Lorenzo moved.
Marco pulled a gun and pressed it against Rachel’s head.
Everything stopped.
“Remove the wire.”
Emma’s heart hammered.
“I’m not wearing one.”
Marco smiled.
“Then you won’t mind being searched.”
Lorenzo’s voice was almost inaudible.
“Touch her and you die.”
Marco laughed.
“That’s the Lorenzo I remember.”
Emma slowly reached toward her neckline.
She pulled out the microphone.
Marco’s eyes flashed.
“Destroy it.”
Emma dropped it.
Crushed it beneath her heel.
Static sounded in her earpiece.
Connection gone.
Marco smiled.
“Now the evening improves.”
He gestured toward the purse.
Emma handed it over.
Marco opened the ledger.
His expression changed.
“This is a copy.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the original?”
“Safe.”
“With Isabella?”
Lorenzo’s face shifted.
Marco smiled.
“There. Finally.”
Emma realized.
He had not known for certain Isabella was involved.
They had just confirmed it.
Marco raised the gun.
“Where is she?”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Marco pointed at Emma instead.
“Maybe your bride will answer.”
Lorenzo stepped directly in front of Emma.
“Put the gun on me.”
“Very noble.”
“Put it on me.”
Marco studied him.
Then smiled.
“You really do love her.”
Emma’s breath caught.
Lorenzo did not correct him.
Marco looked almost delighted.
“That makes this so much easier.”
A side door opened.
Four armed men entered.
Matteo’s backup did not move.
The wire was dead.
Marco had planned for everything.
Or believed he had.
Emma looked toward Rachel.
Her sister’s hands were behind the chair.
But Rachel was moving them.
Slowly.
Working at the knot.
Emma kept Marco talking.
“You rejected all those women because you were scared.”
Marco frowned.
“Excuse me?”
She was speaking to Lorenzo.
He knew immediately.
A distraction.
“All those beautiful women.”
Lorenzo looked at her as if she had lost her mind.
Emma continued.
“Sabrina. Celeste.”
“Emma.”
“You scared them.”
“Yes.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“Sometimes.”
Marco’s men looked confused.
Good.
Emma smiled.
“But I nearly strangled you.”
“Frequently mentioned.”
“And you kept me.”
“I did not keep you.”
“You tried.”
“I provided security.”
“You imprisoned me in a room with Egyptian cotton sheets.”
“That is not imprisonment.”
Rachel slipped one hand free.
Emma saw.
Lorenzo saw Emma see.
Marco did not.
Emma stepped closer to Lorenzo.
“So say it.”
“Say what?”
“Why you didn’t send me away.”
His eyes narrowed.
Not now.
Emma smiled.
Exactly now.
“Tell me.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
Then something softened.
“Because you looked at me.”
Marco laughed.
Emma ignored him.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Rachel freed the second hand.
Lorenzo continued.
“Because you made me laugh when nobody had in months.”
Rachel reached toward the chair leg.
A broken piece of wood lay nearby.
“Keep going,” Emma whispered.
Lorenzo understood.
“Because you are impossible.”
“That sounds less romantic.”
“Because you argue with me.”
“I do.”
“Because you make every room louder.”
Rachel gripped the wood.
“And?”
Lorenzo looked directly into Emma’s eyes.
“Because when you are gone, I notice.”
Emma forgot the plan for half a second.
Then Rachel swung.
The wooden piece struck Marco’s knee.
He shouted.
Lorenzo moved.
Gunfire exploded.
Emma dropped.
Rachel rolled behind the chair.
Lorenzo slammed Marco into a column.
One gunman fell when Matteo’s team burst through a side entrance.
The ballroom became chaos.
Emma crawled toward Rachel.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
They reached cover.
Seconds later, it ended.
Marco lay pinned beneath Lorenzo.
Police sirens approached.
Federal agents entered behind Matteo.
Emma stared.
“You had another plan?”
Matteo grinned.
“The wire wasn’t our only microphone.”
He pointed to Emma’s purse.
She laughed.
Lorenzo looked over.
Blood marked his shirt.
Emma’s smile disappeared.
She ran toward him.
“Are you shot?”
“No.”
“That is blood.”
“Marco’s.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She grabbed his face.
“Don’t scare me like that.”
The entire room seemed to notice.
Lorenzo placed his hand over hers.
“I’m all right.”
Marco began laughing from the floor.
Everyone looked at him.
“You think this ends with me?”
Lorenzo’s expression hardened.
Marco smiled through blood.
“Ask Isabella who ordered Peter Carter’s death.”
Emma froze.
Marco’s eyes found hers.
“I arranged the car.”
His smile widened.
“But I wasn’t the one who wanted your father dead.”
Emma stepped toward him.
“Who did?”
Marco laughed again.
Then the ballroom doors slowly opened.
A man stood on the other side.
Same shoulders.
Same walk.
Same face Emma had seen at Lorenzo’s gate.
Michael Carter looked directly at her.
May you like
And said:
“Your father did.”
