Chapter 1 - I Fell Asleep in the Mafia Boss’s Forbidden Bedroom—By Sunrise He Had Announced Our Engagement to His Entire Family to Keep Me AliveElena Brooks opened her exhausted eyes to the sight of a black wolf tattoo stretched across a muscular forearm.
Then the arm around her waist tightened.
She froze beneath the charcoal-gray blanket.
For several seconds, her mind refused to process the obvious.
This wasn't her apartment.
This wasn't her bed.
And the man holding her definitely wasn't someone she should be waking up beside.
Her last clear memory was working inside Belladonna Estate, the enormous Moretti family property outside Boston, where she had spent eighteen exhausting hours coordinating an exclusive private celebration.
Four hundred guests.
Two orchestras.
Sixteen servers.
Three florists.
A pastry chef who had threatened to quit because the humidity was ruining his sugar sculptures.
And one manager who had spent the evening reminding Elena that failure at a Moretti event wasn't simply bad for business.
It was potentially career-ending.
Late that night, Elena had gone searching for replacement table linens after someone spilled red wine across an entire service station.
She had entered the west wing.
Found an empty bedroom.
Her feet had been bleeding inside her heels.
Five minutes, she had promised herself.
Five minutes with her eyes closed.
Apparently five minutes had become the entire night.
And somehow Adrian Moretti had climbed into the bed beside her.
Everyone in Boston's private-event world knew the black wolf tattoo.
Adrian Moretti.
Thirty-five.
Unmarried.
Owner of Moretti Maritime, several luxury hotels, private security companies, and enough legitimate real estate to explain only part of his wealth.
The other part was never discussed openly.
Newspapers called him a businessman.
Federal investigators reportedly preferred different terminology.
Boston whispered something simpler.
Mafia boss.
Elena carefully shifted toward the edge of the mattress.
His arm tightened.
"Don't."
Her heart nearly stopped.
"I can explain," she whispered.
"I sincerely hope so."
She slowly turned.
Pale gray eyes were already watching her.
Adrian appeared strangely calm for a man who had just discovered an unknown event planner sleeping in his bed.
Elena mentally calculated whether she could apologize, leave Belladonna Estate, quit her job, and possibly move to Vermont before breakfast.
Then she looked down.
She was wearing a man's black shirt.
Adrian's shirt.
Her memory returned in fragments.
A glass of water.
Her blouse soaked when a pitcher slipped from her exhausted hand.
Someone entering the room.
A deep voice asking why she was bleeding.
Adrian.
He had found her asleep.
She remembered trying to stand.
Her heel had caught in the carpet.
Then dizziness.
Adrian telling someone to bring a first-aid kit.
His housekeeper giving Elena a clean shirt because her blouse was wet.
Elena refusing to leave because she was too tired to walk downstairs.
Then nothing.
Apparently Adrian had returned later and, for reasons known only to God and dangerous men, decided to sleep in the same bed.
"Why are you here?" she whispered.
Adrian raised one eyebrow.
"This is my bedroom."
Right.
Of course.
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"I tried."
"And?"
"You told me to leave you alone."
Elena closed her eyes.
"Please tell me you're joking."
"No."
"Did I know who you were?"
"I introduced myself."
"And?"
"You said, and I'm quoting accurately, 'Congratulations.'"
Elena wanted the mattress to swallow her.
Adrian's mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then something struck the bedroom door.
His expression changed instantly.
The sleepy amusement disappeared.
His arm remained around Elena, but now the gesture felt different.
Protective.
Alert.
Dangerous.
The doors opened.
An elegant elderly woman entered with a silver cane.
Two armed guards followed.
Her sharp eyes moved from Adrian's bare chest to Elena.
Then to the black shirt Elena was wearing.
Silence.
The elderly woman smiled.
"So," she said. "This is the woman."
Elena stared.
"What woman?"
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Grandmother."
The woman ignored him.
"I'm Sofia Moretti."
Elena sat up carefully.
"Elena Brooks."
"I know."
That wasn't comforting.
Before Elena could ask how, hurried footsteps thundered through the corridor.
A guard appeared.
Pale.
Breathless.
"Boss."
Adrian was out of bed instantly.
"What?"
"They know she's here."
Sofia's smile disappeared.
Adrian's entire body went still.
"Who knows?"
"Falcone."
Elena looked between them.
Nobody explained.
"Excuse me?"
Adrian turned.
"Elena, get dressed."
"What is happening?"
"Now."
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"I'm sorry?"
"You don't get to say mysterious things and order me around because you own an intimidating number of black suits."
Sofia's eyebrows lifted.
One guard looked fascinated.
Adrian stared at Elena.
Then:
"Someone entered this estate last night."
Her irritation disappeared.
"What?"
"They were looking for leverage against me."
"Why would that involve me?"
Adrian's gaze dropped briefly to the shirt she wore.
Then back to her face.
"Because someone photographed you entering my bedroom."
Elena stopped breathing.
"They believe you're important to me."
"But I'm not."
The words came out quickly.
Something strange crossed Adrian's face.
Then vanished.
"I know."
"Then tell them."
"That won't protect you."
"Why?"
"Because people who operate this way don't correct assumptions. They exploit them."
Elena climbed out of bed.
Pain shot through her feet.
She ignored it.
"I'll leave."
"No."
"Watch me."
"You won't reach the front gate."
That stopped her.
Sofia closed the bedroom door.
"Adrian."
He looked toward his grandmother.
She said something quietly in Italian.
Adrian responded sharply.
Elena understood none of it.
Then Sofia looked at her.
"My grandson has enemies."
"I gathered that."
"One of them has spent six months searching for a weakness."
"I'm an event planner."
"Today you're a weakness."
"I don't even know him."
Sofia's gaze moved toward Adrian.
"That may no longer matter."
Another guard entered.
"Boss, Falcone's people are already asking who Elena Brooks is."
Elena's blood turned cold.
"How do they know my name?"
Nobody answered.
That frightened her more.
Adrian reached for her hand.
"Whatever happens next, stay beside me."
"Adrian—"
He turned toward the guards.
"Tell everyone Elena Brooks is my fiancée."
Elena stared.
"What?"
Nobody laughed.
Nobody corrected him.
The guards exchanged the kind of looks men gave one another when they expected violence.
Elena pulled her hand free.
"I fell asleep in your room by accident. I'm an event planner. I am absolutely not your fiancée."
"I know."
"Then why would you say that?"
"Because if Falcone thinks you're a random woman I slept with, you're disposable."
Her stomach twisted.
"And being your fiancée makes me safer?"
"It makes touching you an act of war."
"That's supposed to comfort me?"
"No."
At least he was honest.
Elena grabbed her clothes from the chair.
"I need privacy."
Adrian looked toward his men.
"Out."
Everyone left except Sofia.
Elena looked at her.
Sofia smiled.
"I'm eighty-two. There's nothing under that shirt I haven't seen."
Elena stared.
Sofia sighed.
"Fine."
She left.
Twenty minutes later, Elena entered the downstairs library wearing yesterday's black pants, borrowed flats, and a clean cream sweater Sofia's housekeeper had found.
Adrian stood near the fireplace.
Now fully dressed.
Black suit.
White shirt.
No tie.
He looked far more like the man newspapers photographed.
Sofia sat nearby.
Three other men occupied the room.
Adrian introduced them.
Marco Moretti, his cousin and security chief.
Nico DeLuca, family attorney.
And Dominic Moretti.
Adrian's uncle.
Dominic was in his early sixties, silver-haired, polished, and warm in a way Adrian wasn't.
He smiled at Elena.
"So you're the mysterious fiancée."
"No."
Adrian said simultaneously:
"Yes."
Elena glared at him.
Dominic laughed.
"I like her."
"I don't care," Adrian said.
"Clearly."
Elena crossed her arms.
"I would like someone to explain why criminals I've never met know my full name."
Dominic's smile faded.
Marco placed a tablet on the table.
A photograph appeared.
Elena entering Adrian's bedroom at 1:14 a.m.
Another at 2:03.
Adrian carrying a medical kit inside.
Another at 3:17.
Someone standing outside the bedroom.
Photographing the door.
Elena looked closer.
"That isn't one of my staff."
Marco nodded.
"We know."
"Who is he?"
"We don't."
"How did he get inside?"
Silence.
Adrian answered.
"Someone invited him."
Elena looked around the room.
"Meaning?"
"We have a traitor."
That word changed everything.
"Last night's event wasn't just a party?"
Adrian shook his head.
"It was a meeting."
"About?"
"Something you don't need to know."
Elena laughed bitterly.
"I became your imaginary fiancée twenty minutes ago because someone might murder me. I think we've passed 'need to know.'"
Sofia smiled slightly.
Adrian did not.
But he answered.
"The Moretti organization is leaving several businesses."
"What kind of businesses?"
"The kind you don't put on LinkedIn."
Elena stared.
"You're trying to go legitimate."
Dominic laughed.
"She really is smart."
Adrian ignored him.
"Parts of the organization are legitimate already. Others aren't. I've been shutting those down."
"And Falcone?"
"Doesn't want me to."
"Why?"
"Because he makes money from them."
Elena understood.
"So he needs leverage."
"Yes."
"And now he thinks I'm leverage."
"Yes."
"Because I took a nap."
Marco coughed.
Adrian almost smiled.
Elena pointed at him.
"Do not find this funny."
"I'm trying very hard not to."
"Try harder."
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
"Boss."
Adrian looked at him.
"What?"
"Her apartment."
Elena froze.
"What about it?"
Marco turned the phone.
Security photographs.
Her apartment door.
Broken.
Rooms destroyed.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress cut open.
Elena stopped breathing.
"No."
She grabbed her phone.
"Who lives with you?" Adrian asked.
"My sister."
His expression changed.
"Call her."
Elena did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
"Chloe."
Voicemail.
Elena looked at Adrian.
"My sister is twenty-three."
Adrian was already moving.
"Marco."
"I'm on it."
Elena grabbed Adrian's arm.
"I'm coming."
"No."
Her fingers tightened.
"You announced to half of Boston that I'm your fiancée without asking me. You do not get to keep me here while my sister is missing."
He stared.
Then nodded once.
"Stay beside me."
This time Elena didn't argue.
Four armored SUVs left Belladonna Estate.
Adrian sat beside her.
Neither spoke.
Twenty minutes later, Marco received information.
Chloe's phone had last connected near Elena's apartment.
Then disappeared.
Elena's hands shook.
Adrian noticed.
He didn't touch her.
Instead he said:
"We'll find her."
"Don't promise things you can't control."
He looked at her.
"Fair."
They reached the apartment.
Police were already outside.
Moretti influence moved faster.
Inside, everything Elena owned had been searched.
But something bothered her.
"They weren't looking for valuables."
Adrian turned.
"How do you know?"
"My laptop is still here."
Jewelry.
Television.
Cash.
Untouched.
"What were they looking for?"
Elena walked toward her desk.
Then stopped.
A folder was missing.
The Belladonna event file.
Guest lists.
Vendor information.
Staff credentials.
Adrian saw her face.
"What?"
"My event records."
"Why would they want those?"
"I don't know."
Then Elena noticed a photograph beneath the desk.
Chloe.
Taken that morning.
Alive.
Standing outside a coffee shop.
On the back:
ASK YOUR FIANCÉ WHAT HAPPENED TO MICHAEL BROOKS.
Elena stopped breathing.
Adrian read it.
His face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Elena looked at him.
"Michael Brooks was my father."
Adrian said nothing.
"He died eighteen years ago."
Still nothing.
"Adrian."
His eyes met hers.
"What happened to my father?"
Before he could answer, Elena's phone rang.
Chloe.
She answered instantly.
"Chloe?"
Crying.
"Elena?"
"Oh my God. Where are you?"
"I don't know."
A man's voice replaced hers.
"Miss Brooks."
Elena went cold.
Adrian held out his hand.
She put the phone on speaker.
"Who are you?"
"Carlo Falcone."
Adrian's expression became murderous.
Falcone continued.
"Your sister is unharmed."
"What do you want?"
"The ledger your father stole eighteen years ago."
Elena stared at Adrian.
"What ledger?"
Falcone laughed.
"Ask your fiancé."
Elena looked at Adrian.
Falcone continued.
"Midnight tomorrow. Bring me the ledger."
"I don't have it."
"Then perhaps Adrian should explain why his father killed yours looking for it."
Elena stopped breathing.
Adrian whispered:
"That's not what happened."
Falcone laughed.
"Of course he'd say that."
The call ended.
Elena slowly lowered the phone.
"My father died in a warehouse fire."
Adrian said nothing.
"Police called it an accident."
"Elena—"
"Was your family there?"
"Yes."
Her knees nearly gave out.
Adrian reached toward her.
She stepped back.
"Don't."
He stopped.
"My father."
Her voice broke.
"Tell me."
Adrian's expression changed.
"The fire wasn't an accident."
The room went silent.
"And my father?"
"He worked for mine."
Elena stared.
"As what?"
"An accountant."
The same word seemed absurd.
"My father was a bookkeeper."
"He kept books for legitimate businesses."
Adrian paused.
"And others."
"What ledger?"
"A record of every payment made by my father's organization for almost twenty years."
Elena's blood chilled.
"Bribes?"
"Among other things."
"Murder?"
Adrian didn't answer.
That was enough.
"Why did my father take it?"
"Because he discovered someone inside the Moretti organization was selling information to the Falcones."
"Who?"
"We never found out."
"And your father killed mine?"
"No."
"Falcone says—"
"Falcone lies."
"So do you."
That landed.
Adrian accepted it.
"My father believed Michael betrayed him. He went to the warehouse to confront him."
"And?"
"Someone locked them inside."
Elena stared.
"What?"
"The fire killed both our fathers."
Silence.
"My father and yours died together?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't anyone tell us?"
"Because Sofia decided the Brooks family would be safer knowing nothing."
Elena looked toward the old photograph in her hand.
Eighteen years.
Her mother had died believing Michael's death was an industrial accident.
Elena had built an entire life on a lie.
"Where's the ledger?"
Adrian shook his head.
"Nobody knows."
Falcone thought Elena did.
Then Elena remembered something.
A strange sentence her father had repeated when she was a child.
Whenever Elena misplaced something, Michael Brooks would smile and say:
If something matters, Ellie, never hide it where people look for secrets. Hide it where they look for memories.
She stopped breathing.
Adrian noticed.
"What?"
Elena looked toward the photograph of Chloe.
"Maybe I know where he put it."
Six hours later, they stood inside an old storage unit in Cambridge.
Boxes belonging to the Brooks family had remained untouched since Elena's mother died.
Christmas decorations.
School photographs.
Michael's records.
Then Elena found it.
A wooden music stand.
Her father's.
He had played violin badly every Sunday morning.
Elena ran her fingers beneath the base.
Something clicked.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside sat a black notebook.
Adrian stopped breathing.
Elena lifted it.
Michael Brooks's handwriting covered the first page.
But beneath it was something else.
An envelope.
FOR ELENA AND CHLOE.
Her hands trembled.
She opened it.
The letter began:
My girls, if you are reading this, I failed to come home.
Elena covered her mouth.
Adrian stepped back, giving her space.
She continued.
Michael wrote that he had discovered a traitor inside the Moretti family.
Someone secretly working with Carlo Falcone.
Someone who intended to kill Adrian's father, take control of the organization, and eventually eliminate Adrian.
Michael had taken the ledger as insurance.
He planned to expose the traitor.
Then the final line.
The man you must never trust is Dominic Moretti.
Elena looked up.
Adrian went completely still.
His uncle.
The warm man from the library.
The man who had smiled and said he liked her.
Then Elena's phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared.
Chloe tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Dominic Moretti.
And beneath it:
Bring my ledger home, Elena.
Adrian stared at the image.
For the first time since Elena woke in his bed, Boston's most feared Mafia boss looked genuinely afraid.
Not for himself.
For her.
And Elena finally understood.
May you like
The enemy hadn't broken into Belladonna Estate.
He had been living there all along.
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