The Proxy He Stole

Chapter 2 The Ashes and The Slip

I drove back to the Bellini estate without turning on the radio. After my father died, Adrian had promised that our ancestral home would remain mine until our wedding, free of Moretti business and family politics.

I should have known what his promises were worth by then.

My tires crunched over the gravel inside the grand iron gates. The calm I usually found there was gone. A bright red tricycle stood on the marble steps. Through the leaded glass, I could see a woman's flimsy coat hanging over a priceless 18th-century chair.

Adrian had moved Chloe and Leo into my house.

Inside, Chloe's floral perfume had covered the usual smell of lemon oil and old books.

Smoke was slipping under the library door.

I dropped my keys and ran.

Chloe was kneeling at the great stone fireplace, feeding pages into the flames. The scorched leather cover in her hand belonged to my mother's diary. She tore out another delicate, ink-covered sheet and watched it burn. Beside her lay the Bellini shipping maps, hand-drawn by my family, the foundation of our fortune, and now half charred.

The room already had central heating. She had lit the fire with my mother's diary anyway.

I crossed the room and slapped her. The sound cracked through the library.

“What did you do?”

Chloe stumbled back and covered her cheek. “I'm sorry! It was so cold, and these old books, that dark leather cover, it reminded me of Pier Seven!”

My hand fell to my side.

I had read Rico's police report a hundred times and knew every location in it. His body had been found at Pier Four, nowhere near Pier Seven.

Chloe had just named the wrong pier.

Footsteps pounded down the hall. Adrian rushed in. “What the hell is going on? The ports are in chaos. Every capo is screaming for my head.”

He stopped and looked straight at my desk. For years, that had been the first place he searched when a crisis needed fixing.

Then he noticed Chloe on the floor and the red mark on her cheek.

He forgot the desk. He did not look at the burning diary or the ruined maps.

“Evangeline!” He shoved past me and knelt beside Chloe. “Are you all right? Did she hurt you?”

He helped Chloe stand and put himself between us. “She's a grieving widow under my protection, and you attack her? What is wrong with you?”

His hand stayed on Chloe's arm while ash from my mother's diary settled across the hearth. Whatever had kept me beside him for six years was gone.

“Get them out of my house, Adrian.”

“*Our* house,” he said. “They're staying. You're the one who needs to learn her place.”

I looked at him for another second. “Fine. Then our engagement is over.”

Adrian smirked. He had heard another threat, one I would regret after a night alone with my jealousy. By morning, he expected me to apologize.

I left him standing between Chloe and the fireplace.