Chapter 4 - The Man on His Knees
I confronted Adrian in the car.
"Who pulled Daniel from the wreck?"
His silence answered first.
"You?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"Elena."
The world tilted.
"She's alive?"
"I don't know."
"You just said she pulled him out."
"Nine months ago."
"And six months ago she supposedly died."
"Yes."
"Supposedly?"
"The body was burned."
I stared at him.
"Was it identified?"
"Dental records."
"Could they have been altered?"
Adrian looked at Vincent in the front seat.
Vincent answered.
"With enough money, yes."
Everything I believed about Daniel's death was cracking open.
Adrian finally told me the missing piece.
When he reached the crash, Elena had already dragged Daniel from the car.
Daniel was dying.
Elena was injured.
Adrian sent her away because Rizzo's men were approaching.
"Why hide that from me?"
"Daniel asked me to."
"Daniel was dying!"
"And still thinking about you."
I turned toward the window.
I wanted anger.
Anger was easier.
Instead, I felt exhausted.
Back at the townhouse, I locked myself in the guest suite.
For the next hour, I cried harder than I had at the funeral.
Not because Daniel was dead.
I had already learned how to grieve that.
Because every new truth gave me another version of his final night.
Daniel frightened.
Daniel running.
Daniel injured.
Daniel asking Adrian to protect me.
Daniel knowing Elena was there.
And somehow Elena might still be alive.
Eventually I went downstairs.
Adrian was in his office.
He looked up.
"I'm sorry."
It was the first apology I had heard from him.
Not polished.
Not strategic.
Just tired.
"I don't know what to believe anymore," I said.
"Believe that Daniel loved you."
"I already knew that."
"Then start there."
That was surprisingly gentle.
I looked at him.
"Why did you agree to protect me?"
"I told you."
"Because Daniel saved you."
"Yes."
"That's not the whole reason."
Adrian's eyes shifted.
I had learned his tells.
The feared mafia boss was terrible at lying when the subject was personal.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"Adrian."
"Daniel once asked what I would do if anything happened to him."
"And?"
"I told him I would make sure you were safe."
"Before he died?"
"Two years before."
That stunned me.
"Why was my brother discussing me with you?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Because he knew I asked about you."
My heartbeat stumbled.
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
"You knew me?"
"I knew of you."
"From Daniel?"
"And from the shop."
I stared.
"You'd been to my shop?"
"Twice."
"When?"
"Before Daniel died."
I tried remembering every intimidating dark-haired customer I'd ever served.
Then it came back.
A man buying white lilies.
Black coat.
Quiet voice.
I hadn't known his name.
"You bought lilies."
"For my mother's grave."
"You tipped me fifty dollars."
"You complained."
"I thought you'd made a mistake."
"I hadn't."
Something strange passed between us.
Then Adrian stepped backward.
"None of that matters."
"Why?"
"Because this marriage wasn't supposed to become real."
The words landed harder than they should have.
"Don't worry. I haven't forgotten."
I left.
I should have gone upstairs.
Instead, I went into the bathroom adjoining my suite and turned on the bath.
My mind wouldn't stop.
Daniel.
Elena.
Adrian.
Marriage.
Mafia.
One week earlier I had been arranging peonies.
Now men with guns stood outside my bedroom.
I stepped from the bath and reached for a towel.
My foot hit something sharp.
A broken glass perfume bottle.
Pain flashed through my ankle.
I gasped and dropped onto the tub.
Blood ran along my foot.
The bathroom door opened.
Adrian entered first.
He had heard the glass break.
He froze when he saw the blood.
"What happened?"
"It's a cut."
He crossed the room.
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding."
"Very observant."
He ignored the sarcasm and knelt.
Actually knelt.
Adrian DeLuca.
A man who reportedly made grown men tremble.
On both knees on my bathroom floor.
He lifted my heel gently.
"Does this hurt?"
"Yes."
"Here?"
"Less."
His tattooed hands were absurdly careful.
He called for a basin and medical kit.
A guard delivered them without entering.
Adrian cleaned the cut himself.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because you're injured."
"You have people."
"They're not touching you."
The answer was immediate.
Possessive.
Yet strangely protective.
I watched his face while he worked.
No disgust.
No impatience.
Only concentration.
"Adrian."
"Hm?"
"Look at me."
He did.
His dark eyes softened.
I asked, "Why are you really doing this?"
He remained silent.
Then:
"Because you're under my protection."
"That's the contract talking."
"No."
He looked at my foot again.
"That's me."
My chest tightened.
A shadow appeared in the doorway.
Vincent.
He stopped.
His eyebrows lifted.
"I never thought I'd see the day."
Adrian looked over his shoulder.
"Don't."
"I'm saying nothing."
"You're already saying something."
Vincent looked almost delighted.
"The great Adrian DeLuca. On his knees."
"Vincent."
"For a woman."
Adrian's stare could have stopped traffic.
Vincent disappeared.
I looked down at Adrian.
"You don't have to kneel for me."
He wrapped the bandage once around my foot.
Then raised his eyes.
"For you, I do."
Neither of us spoke.
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
No kiss.
No confession.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
I suddenly understood that my fear of Adrian had changed.
I wasn't afraid he would hurt me.
I was afraid I might trust him.
He stood.
"Try not to walk on it tonight."
"Yes, doctor."
His mouth almost smiled.
Then his phone rang.
The softness vanished.
He answered.
"What?"
His expression changed.
"Where?"
He turned toward the door.
I caught his wrist.
"What happened?"
Adrian covered the phone.
"Rizzo took someone."
"Who?"
He didn't answer quickly enough.
My heart began racing.
"Adrian."
"Your employee."
"Which employee?"
"Grace."
My best friend.
The woman who had worked beside me since college.
A text arrived on Adrian's phone.
A photograph.
Grace tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Marco Vieri.
Scar Face.
He held a card toward the camera.
On it:
BRING SOFIA TO PIER 19.
MIDNIGHT.
COME ALONE.
Then Adrian received a second image.
This one showed Elena Russo standing behind Grace.
May you like
Alive.
And Elena was holding my brother's missing photograph.
