Chapter 16
994 Words
The drive back from the Shipyard was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the morning. Inside the SUV, the air was thick with the scent of leather and the heavy, brooding silence of three men who had spent the last six hours looking for a ghost. Silas sat next to Roxanne, his jaw tight, staring out at the passing industrial district as if he could find the traitor hiding in the graffiti.
Killian drove with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, while Cassian sat in the front, unusually quiet, his eyes glued to his tablet. Every now and then, Silas would glance at Roxanne, his eyes lingering on her tired face, but he didn't ask her anything. Not yet.
The moment the SUV crunched onto the gravel driveway of the Vane Manor, the "Mafia Base" felt like a bad dream. The afternoon sun was draped over the limestone walls of the estate, making the ivy look like emeralds. It was peaceful. It was beautiful. It was a lie.
The heavy front doors swung open before the car had even come to a full stop. Elena Vane was standing there, clad in a stunning cream-colored silk dress that flowed around her like a cloud. She looked like she hadn't a care in the world—certainly not a worry about shipping manifests or munitions.
As soon as Roxanne stepped out of the car, Elena was on her.
"There she is!" Elena chirped, her eyes bright. Before Roxanne could even get her bearings, Elena had hooked an arm through hers, effectively pulling her away from the men. "Silas, dear, you look like you’ve been chewing on glass. Take your brothers and go do... whatever it is you do in that dusty office. I am stealing Roxanne."
"Mother," Silas started, his voice flat. "We have things to discuss. The audit—"
"The audit can wait until dinner," Elena interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "The florist is arriving in twenty minutes with the mock-ups for the engagement party centerpieces, and I refuse to choose between 'Midnight Calla Lilies' and 'Bridal White Peonies' without my future daughter-in-law’s input."
Roxanne looked back at Silas, her eyes wide with a silent plea for help. She was a PI; she could handle a server room full of hackers, but the prospect of choosing flower arrangements with a Mafia Matriarch felt significantly more dangerous.
Silas looked like he wanted to argue, but he caught his mother’s pointed expression and sighed. He gave Roxanne a look that was half-apology, half-warning. "Go. I’ll be in the study if you... survive."
"Traitor," Roxanne mouthed at him as Elena began to lead her toward the sun-drenched conservatory in the West Wing.
"Don't mind him, dear," Elena said, her voice dropping into a warm, conspiratorial tone. "The Vane men think the world stops turning if they aren't staring at a computer screen. But we know better, don't we? The world turns on the details. The things people see."
The conservatory was a glass-domed paradise filled with exotic ferns and the scent of damp earth. On a long marble table, dozens of sketches and fabric swatches were laid out.
"Now," Elena said, sitting Roxanne down and handing her a glass of chilled hibiscus tea. "I know this all feels very fast. The engagement, the move, the party next month. But I want you to know, Roxanne, that I’ve waited a long time for Silas to find someone like you."
Roxanne took a sip of the tea, her heart doing a nervous little dance. "Someone like me, Elena?"
"Someone sharp," Elena said, her eyes narrowing slightly in a way that reminded Roxanne that this woman was married to Marcus Vane. "Someone who sees the world for what it is, but still chooses to stand her ground. This family... it’s a fortress, but it can be a very lonely one if you don't have a partner who understands the weight of the walls."
Roxanne looked at the sketches of the flowers—deep purples and stark whites. It was exactly the kind of "Iron and Velvet" aesthetic the Vanes lived by. For a second, she felt a pang of genuine guilt. Elena was talking to her like she was actually going to be part of the family, not a consultant hired to find a rat.
She thought of David. If her mentor were here, he’d tell her to use this. 'The Matriarch always knows the secrets the Don is too proud to see,' he’d say.
"The party... it's going to be a lot of people, isn't it?" Roxanne asked, trying to keep her voice light. "Friends of the family? Old associates?"
"Everyone who matters will be there," Elena said, tapping a finger on a sketch of a grand ballroom. "Even some of Marcus’s old partners from the early days. It’s important to show the world that the Vane line is strong and unified. No cracks in the foundation."
No cracks in the foundation. Roxanne realized then that Elena wasn't just planning a party; she was staging a show of force.
"I’ll do my best to play the part," Roxanne said, a bit of her genuine self slipping through.
Elena reached across the table and squeezed Roxanne’s hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "Oh, honey. You aren't playing a part. You’re a Vane now. And Vanes don't play. We endure."
As the florist arrived and the room filled with the scent of crushed petals and high-stakes social planning, Roxanne felt the walls of the Manor closing in.
Upstairs, Silas was hunting a traitor. Down here, Elena was weaving a web of silk and tradition.
Roxanne realized with a jolt that she was starting to like Elena. And in this house, liking someone was the fastest way to get your heart broken—or worse.
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