Chapter 2 - THE MAID WHO EXPOSED HIS FIANCÉE’S SECRET WINE SALE RECEIVED A PHOTO OF HER LITTLE BROTHER—AND BY SUNRISE, LUCA DISCOVERED VANESSA HAD A SECOND MAN, A FAKE FOUNDATION, AND A FORTY-MILLION-DOLLAR PLAN
I called Owen before I called anyone else.
He answered on the fifth ring.
“Emma?”
“Where are you?”
“In bed.”
“You sure?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Owen.”
Something in my voice woke him completely.
“At home.”
“Lock your door.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“What happened?”
I looked at the photograph.
Someone had taken it from across the street.
“Owen, please.”
He stopped arguing.
“Okay.”
“Don’t leave.”
“Emma—”
“I’ll explain.”
I ended the call.
Then I called Luca.
He answered immediately.
“Emma?”
“I got a message.”
His voice changed.
“What message?”
I sent him the screenshot.
Silence.
Then:
“Stay in your room.”
Fear instantly became irritation.
“My brother is in that photograph.”
“I saw.”
“So I’m going to him.”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Luca.”
“What?”
“If we’re arguing at two in the morning because somebody threatened your family, call me Luca.”
I almost laughed.
Almost.
“My brother is alone.”
“Not anymore.”
I froze.
“What did you do?”
“I sent two men.”
Anger flashed through me.
“You what?”
“To the street. Not inside.”
“You don’t get to put armed strangers around my brother without asking.”
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
“I should have asked.”
I had prepared myself to fight.
An apology was inconvenient.
“But,” he continued, “there is a threat against him, and I’m not going to pretend there isn’t.”
“I’m going there.”
“Then I’ll take you.”
“I can drive.”
“You’re shaking.”
I looked at my hand.
He was right.
I hated that.
Ten minutes later, I walked through the mansion’s side entrance.
Luca waited beside a black SUV.
No tie.
Coat over his shirt.
Daniel in the driver’s seat.
Vanessa was nowhere in sight.
“Where is she?”
“Sleeping.”
“You didn’t confront her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because frightened people destroy evidence.”
That was the moment I remembered what kind of man he was.
Not because he threatened anyone.
Because his anger could wait.
Owen lived in a third-floor apartment in Logan Square.
He opened the door wearing sweatpants and holding a baseball bat.
He looked at Luca.
Then me.
Then Luca again.
“Emma.”
“Yes?”
“Why is Luca Moretti outside my apartment?”
“You know who he is?”
“Everybody knows who he is.”
Luca looked unimpressed.
“Good publicity?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
Owen stared at him.
Then at me.
“Did you join the mafia?”
“No.”
“Because I feel like that’s something you should tell your brother.”
“Owen.”
I showed him the photograph.
His expression changed.
“What the hell?”
Luca stepped backward deliberately.
“This involves me. Your sister saw something tonight.”
Owen looked at my lip.
“What happened to your face?”
I had forgotten.
“Nothing.”
“Emma.”
Luca said quietly, “Vanessa Bellini pushed her.”
Owen stared at him.
“Your fiancée?”
“Former fiancée.”
That was apparently the first time Luca had said it aloud.
Nobody commented.
Daniel traced the threatening message to a disposable number.
But the photograph contained something useful.
A reflection in the window behind Owen.
Part of a silver sedan.
Illinois plate.
Four digits visible.
By three thirty, Luca’s people had a match.
The car belonged to Bell Security Consulting.
Vanessa’s brother Dominic owned it.
I stared at Luca.
“She had her brother follow Owen?”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t know what you heard.”
“She could ask.”
“She already did.”
My lip throbbed.
Right.
Luca turned toward Daniel.
“Where’s Bell?”
“Registered address is empty.”
“And Nicholas?”
“We’re checking.”
I frowned.
“Nicholas Bell?”
Luca explained the second passport.
I shook my head.
“Vanessa’s brother is Dominic.”
“Yes.”
“So who is Nicholas?”
“We’re about to find out.”
By eight that morning, we knew.
Nicholas Bell did not exist.
His real name was Nicholas Caruso.
Thirty-seven.
Former commercial real-estate broker.
Two fraud investigations.
No convictions.
And photographs showed him with Vanessa across six years.
Restaurants.
Hotels.
Airports.
A condominium in Miami.
One photograph showed them kissing.
Four months earlier.
Luca studied it for five seconds.
Then placed it down.
I watched him.
“You okay?”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
The honesty surprised me.
“But that can wait.”
Adrian cleared his throat.
“There’s more.”
Nicholas Caruso controlled a company called Lakefront Heritage Partners.
That company had secured an option to purchase the Moretti warehouse on the Chicago River.
I frowned.
“I thought Vanessa couldn’t sell it.”
“She can’t,” Adrian said.
“Then what’s the point?”
Luca understood first.
“The foundation.”
Adrian nodded.
Once the altered papers were signed, the warehouse would be transferred into the Bellini-Moretti Cultural Preservation Foundation.
Vanessa would control it.
Lakefront Heritage would buy it for eleven million dollars.
“What is it actually worth?” I asked.
Luca answered.
“Forty to forty-five.”
I stared.
Vanessa planned to use marriage to gain control over a forty-million-dollar asset and sell it to her secret partner for eleven.
Then Nicholas could resell it.
The wine?
Operating cash.
The lake property?
Another asset.
The paintings?
Collateral.
The marriage was not romance.
It was the lockpick.
Vanessa came downstairs at nine fifteen.
Cream trousers.
Cashmere sweater.
Perfect hair.
She stopped when she saw me inside Luca’s study.
Then smiled.
“Emma.”
I did not answer.
Her gaze moved to Luca.
“Darling, what is she doing here?”
“Sit.”
Vanessa’s smile weakened.
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down.”
She did.
Luca placed the evidence in front of her.
The wine inventory.
Keller’s card.
The altered foundation documents.
The property option.
The photographs of Nicholas.
The airline tickets.
Vanessa stared.
Then:
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
Luca leaned back.
“Which part?”
He touched Nicholas’s photograph.
“Sleeping with Caruso?”
The inventory.
“Selling my parents’ wine?”
The foundation papers.
“Replacing legal documents?”
Then the property option.
“Or selling forty million dollars of my family’s property to your boyfriend for eleven?”
Vanessa’s eyes moved toward me.
Luca’s voice hardened.
“Don’t.”
She looked back.
“You’re believing a servant over me?”
“No.”
He leaned forward.
“I’m believing documents, bank records, travel records, photographs and a wine broker.”
Then he glanced at me.
“Emma merely had the courage to tell me where to look.”
Vanessa’s cheeks flushed.
“She was spying.”
“She was carrying glasses.”
“She hates me.”
“She barely knows you.”
“She wants you.”
Silence.
My entire body went hot.
Luca stared at Vanessa.
I stood.
“I’m leaving.”
Luca immediately answered:
“Okay.”
Not sit.
Not stay.
Okay.
But Vanessa turned toward me.
“Tell him.”
I stopped.
“Tell him what?”
“That you’ve been waiting for me to disappear.”
I stared at her.
“You pushed me into a table because I heard you planning to steal from him.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“No.”
I steadied myself.
“It wasn’t.”
Vanessa smiled.
Then I continued.
“Because whatever I feel about Luca has nothing to do with whether you committed fraud.”
Her smile disappeared.
“And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m waiting to replace you.”
I left.
By noon, the wedding was canceled.
Detective Ruiz arrived.
Nicholas Caruso was detained at O’Hare.
Vanessa surrendered her passport.
Six thousand white roses were loaded back into florist trucks.
I watched from the service entrance.
Luca stood beside me.
“Expensive compost,” I said.
He almost smiled.
“You want some?”
“What would I do with six thousand roses?”
“I don’t know. Apparently I’m bad at deciding what women want.”
I laughed.
My lip hurt.
I stopped.
His expression changed.
“Sorry.”
“You didn’t cut it.”
“No.”
We stood quietly.
Then he said:
“Vanessa was wrong about something.”
“Only one thing?”
That earned a smile.
“About you wanting to replace her.”
I stiffened.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Luca.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You ended your engagement yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“I work for you.”
“Yes.”
“You have more money than I’ll probably see in ten lifetimes.”
“Yes.”
“So whatever this is—”
I gestured between us.
“—we’re not doing it.”
He was silent.
Then:
“Okay.”
I blinked.
“That’s it?”
“What would you prefer?”
“I don’t know.”
“I could make a dramatic speech.”
“Please don’t.”
“Then okay.”
“You’re not angry?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you said no.”
Something inside my chest shifted.
Then Daniel came running from the garage.
“Luca.”
We turned.
His face was pale.
“What?”
“Vanessa’s phone records.”
Luca’s expression sharpened.
Daniel looked at me.
Then back at him.
“She wasn’t only talking to Caruso.”
“Who else?”
“Your uncle.”
Luca stopped.
“Which uncle?”
“Salvatore.”
Everything in his face disappeared.
I knew the name.
Salvatore Moretti.
Luca’s father’s younger brother.
The man who had worked beside Luca for twenty years.
The man scheduled to stand beside him at the wedding.
Daniel handed him another document.
“Caruso’s company.”
Luca read.
“The financing behind it came through Salvatore’s accounts.”
The canceled wedding was no longer the story.
The wine was no longer the story.
Vanessa had not merely planned to steal from Luca and run away with another man.
May you like
Someone inside his own family had built the entire plan.
And Luca’s uncle had just realized the maid with the bleeding lip knew enough to destroy it.
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