Chapter1
1397 Words
Elena Moretti knew she had walked into the wrong room.
She just didn't know how wrong until she saw the body.
She stopped so suddenly that the file tucked beneath her arm nearly slipped from her hand.
A man lay on the marble floor a few feet away.
He wasn't moving.
There was blood on his shirt.
For a moment, Elena couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. Her brain seemed determined to convince her that she'd misunderstood the situation somehow.
Maybe the man had fainted.
Maybe someone had called an ambulance.
Maybe—
The gun in the hand of the man standing beside him killed every excuse.
Elena's eyes moved slowly upward.
The stranger was tall, dressed in a black suit that looked far too expensive for the small private room. His dark hair was neatly styled, his face expressionless.
He looked at the dead man.
Then at her.
Elena forgot how to breathe.
Neither of them moved.
She should have left immediately.
Instead, she heard herself say, “I'm sorry.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
Elena swallowed.
“Wrong room.”
She started backing toward the door.
“Stop.”
She stopped.
His voice wasn't loud.
That was what scared her.
He didn't need to shout.
Elena tightened her grip on the file.
“I was looking for Victor Romano.”
“Why?”
“My boss sent me.”
“Your name?”
She hesitated.
There was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel like she was being searched from the inside out.
“Elena.”
“Elena what?”
“Moretti.”
Something changed in his expression.
It was quick.
So quick she almost wondered if she'd imagined it.
Then his face became unreadable again.
“Close the door.”
Elena stared at him.
“I'm leaving.”
“No, you're not.”
She reached for the handle anyway.
He raised the gun.
Elena froze.
“Close the door, Elena.”
Her hand fell away from the handle.
She slowly closed it.
The click of the lock sounded much louder than it should have.
Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat.
“Now come here.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
Elena immediately wished she hadn't said it.
But she couldn't help herself.
“I don't know who you are,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I don't know that man, and I definitely don't know what happened here. I was told to deliver this file and leave.”
She held up the envelope.
“That's all.”
The man looked at it.
“Put it on the table.”
Elena didn't move.
“Please.”
She almost laughed.
He had a gun pointed at her, there was a dead man on the floor, and he was saying please as though they were having a normal conversation.
She placed the file on the table.
“Can I go now?”
“No.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Why?”
“Because you saw something you shouldn't have.”
“So?”
“So witnesses are inconvenient.”
The meaning of his words sank in.
Elena's stomach turned.
“You're not going to kill me.”
He looked at her.
“I haven't decided.”
Her mouth went dry.
Great.
Just great.
She should never have accepted this job.
The money had sounded too good, but she'd needed it. Her rent was overdue, her electricity bill was sitting on the kitchen counter, and she'd convinced herself that delivering one envelope couldn't possibly cause any trouble.
She had been wrong.
Very, very wrong.
The man stepped toward her.
Elena took a step back.
He stopped.
“You're afraid.”
“Yes.”
At least she was honest.
“Good.”
“That's not exactly comforting.”
For the first time, she saw something almost like amusement in his eyes.
It disappeared just as quickly.
“What did Victor Romano tell you?”
“Nothing.”
“Who hired you?”
“My boss.”
“Name.”
“Mr. Bellini.”
“First name?”
“I don't know.”
He studied her for a few seconds.
Elena hated the way he did that.
As if he could see every lie before she even finished telling it.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Find out who Elena Moretti is.”
Elena's stomach dropped.
She took a small step backward.
The man noticed.
“Twenty-five,” he continued. “Lives alone. Works at Bellini Logistics.”
Elena stared at him.
How did he know that?
He ended the call.
“Who are you?”
He looked at her.
“Alessandro De Luca.”
The name meant nothing for half a second.
Then everything clicked.
Elena had heard it before.
Not from friends.
Not from television.
From whispered conversations.
From articles that disappeared from the internet almost as quickly as they appeared.
The De Luca family.
Money.
Nightclubs.
Construction companies.
Private security.
And rumors about things nobody could prove.
Her eyes widened.
“You're him.”
Alessandro said nothing.
“Oh my God.”
She backed away.
“I really need to leave.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“Then let me go.”
He walked toward her.
“Elena.”
She stopped.
“You're in more danger than you realize.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, her phone vibrated.
She pulled it from her pocket.
One message.
Unknown number.
DON'T TRUST THE MAN IN THE ROOM.
Her blood went cold.
She looked up.
Alessandro was watching her.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
His gaze dropped to her phone.
“Show me.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
He held out his hand.
She shook her head.
“It's private.”
His expression hardened.
“So is your life.”
She didn't understand what that meant until another message appeared.
HE KNOWS ABOUT YOUR FATHER.
Her fingers went numb.
Alessandro noticed her expression.
“What happened?”
She didn't answer.
“Who is your father?”
Elena looked at him.
“My father is dead.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because someone just mentioned him.”
She stared at him.
Alessandro's voice became quieter.
“What's his name?”
Elena hesitated.
“Marco Moretti.”
Something changed.
Alessandro went still.
She noticed immediately.
“You know him?”
He didn't answer.
“You do, don't you?”
His eyes remained on hers.
“How old were you when he died?”
The question made her uncomfortable.
“Seven.”
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
He looked away for a moment.
When he looked back, the coldness in his face was different.
Almost troubled.
“What happened to him?”
“I don't remember.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was seven.”
“You don't remember?”
Elena shook her head.
“My mother never talked about it.”
Alessandro's jaw tightened.
Before she could ask another question, gunshots exploded outside.
Elena screamed.
The lights went out.
Someone grabbed her.
She barely had time to react before Alessandro pulled her down.
They hit the floor together.
More shots rang through the hallway.
Elena pressed a hand over her mouth.
Alessandro was above her, shielding her with his body.
She could hear his breathing.
Calm.
Controlled.
As if bullets weren't flying through the door.
He reached for his gun.
“Stay down.”
“What is happening?”
He didn't answer.
Another bullet tore through the wooden door.
Elena flinched.
“Alessandro—”
“They're coming for you.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
His eyes met hers in the darkness.
“This isn't about the man I killed.”
Another gunshot echoed through the hallway.
Alessandro's voice dropped.
“They came here because they knew you'd be here.”
Elena's blood ran cold.
“But I didn't know I was coming here.”
“I know.”
“Then how did they?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“That,” he said quietly, “is what we're going to find out.”
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