Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
I backed away from the door.
My heart hammered so violently that I could feel it beneath my ribs.
"Luca?"
"Yes."
"That's impossible."
"I know what Dante told you."
I stared at the door.
Eleven months earlier, Luca Moretti had supposedly died in a boating accident off the coast of Connecticut.
There had been a funeral.
A closed casket.
Dante had stood beside the grave wearing a black suit and an expression so cold that even his own men avoided approaching him.
I remembered placing white lilies beside the coffin.
I remembered Dante gripping my hand so tightly that my fingers ached.
And now Luca was standing outside my hotel room.
"How do I know it's really you?" I whispered.
A pause.
Then he said, "You broke the blue vase in the library the first Christmas you spent with Dante. I told him I did it because you were terrified he'd think you were careless."
My eyes filled.
Nobody else knew that.
I approached the door but kept the security chain fastened.
When I opened it a few inches, I saw him.
Luca.
Alive.
His dark hair was longer. A scar crossed his left eyebrow. He looked thinner than I remembered.
But it was him.
"Oh my God."
His expression softened.
"Hi, Elena."
I almost collapsed.
He reached toward the door.
"Please let me in."
I shook my head.
"Why are you here?"
"Because Dante knows about the documents."
My blood turned cold.
"What documents?"
Luca looked down the hallway.
"The ones proving you own forty percent of Moretti Maritime."
I gripped the doorframe.
"How do you know about that?"
"Because I helped your attorney find them."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then Luca said something that changed everything.
"Elena, Vivian wasn't in your bedroom because Dante wanted her there."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"She was there because somebody wanted you to leave the house tonight."
My hand moved instinctively to my stomach.
"Who?"
Luca looked directly into my eyes.
"My father."
Dante's father, Salvatore Moretti, had died three years earlier.
Or so everyone believed.
I suddenly felt sick.
"Luca, stop."
"Elena—"
"Your father is dead."
Luca's expression darkened.
"That's what he wanted us to believe."
I stared at him.
Two dead men.
One night.
And a husband who had somehow discovered documents I'd spent months hiding.
My phone began ringing again.
Dante.
Luca looked at the screen through the opening.
"Don't answer."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because if Salvatore knows where you are, Dante isn't the only man coming."
I looked toward the hallway.
For the first time, I noticed the security camera above the elevator.
Its tiny red light had gone dark.
Then footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor.
Luca's expression changed.
"Elena. Open the door."
I hesitated.
May you like
He leaned closer.
"Now."
