A GAME OF SECRETS
1324 Words
Naomi’s hand trembled as she stared at the photo again.
She wasn’t dreaming.
It was intimate. Vulnerable.
Private.
And someone had captured it.
Naomi’s chest tightened. Her mind raced. Who took the picture? When? Why? She had been left alone after all. David had vanished without explanation, and now this? A photo printed and delivered in a black envelope like a warning.
"You stole more than hearts. Now it’s our turn."
The message was a threat.
But what had she stolen?
Her phone buzzed.
Leila: You okay? Haven’t heard from you in days. Want to grab lunch at the Mall?
Naomi stared at the screen. Her thumb week. Then she put the phone down. She wasn’t ready to talk. Not to Leila. Not to anyone.
She slipped the photo back into the envelope and kept it in her desk drawer. Then she turned on the her workout machine and took a deep breath.
She needed to clear her head.
Fitness now. Emotions to deal with later.
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By late afternoon, Naomi arrived at the Marciano Ventures office for the follow up meeting. The high rise in Maintown Manhattan was ripe and intimidating, just like the men who ran it.
Ronaldo Marciano was already seated at the conference table when she walked in. Smart suit, tie perfectly knotted, eyes cold and unreadable.
“I trust the documents are in order?” he asked without looking up.
“They are,” Naomi said, droping the folder across the table.
She noticed that David wasn’t there.
Ronaldo read through the proposal, his fingers hovering on the signature page. “Have you given any thought to my other suggestion?”
Naomi met his eyes. “You mean the personal dinner invitation you disguised as a ‘business discussion’?”
A slight smile seen at his lips. “You’re sharper than most.”
“I’m not here to play games, Ronaldo.”
He leaned back in his chair. “That’s a defeat. I always win at games.”
Naomi didn’t blink. “So do I.”
Ronaldo’s expression shifted. For the first time, she saw something beneath the surface curiosity… maybe even respect.
“I will see you tonight, then,” he said coolly. “Seven o’clock. The Irish Closet suit.”
She opened her mouth to decline, but he cut her off.
“Unless, of course,” he added, “you’re scared.”
Naomi narrowed her eyes. “i will be there.”
But as she stepped into the elevator, a sick thought came on her mind .
She had a photo in her drawer. A ghost in her past. And two billionaire brothers pesting her like bees.
And she was about to dine with the third.
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The Irish Closet suit, was every bit as intimidating as its name suggested. Chandeliers dripping with crystals blocks, menus without prices, and waiters who spoke five languages. Naomi arrived fashionably late, wrapped in a blood red dress that cling to every curve.
Heads turned. Whispers followed.
Ronaldo stood as she approached the table. He wore black, of course. Always so controlled, so calculating.
“You clean up nicely,” he said.
Naomi sat down without a smile. “Let’s get to the point.”
He poured her a glass of red wine. “Very well. What do you know about Marciano Global?”
Naomi sipped the wine. “You’re one of the largest venture firms in North America. Heavy in real estate, tech, media, press… and secrets.”
That earned a some taste of amusement. “Secrets?”
Naomi leaned forward gently. “Let’s not pretend this is just about business. I’ve been watched. Followed. Someone took a photo of me in a restaurant and mailed it to me like some trophy. You and your brothers know more than you are saying.”
Ronaldo’s eyes didn’t blink. “What photo?”
She stared him down. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” he said calmly. “But if someone is watching you, we need to find out who. You're more valuable than you realize, Naomi.”
“Because of my inheritance?” she challenged.
“Because of who you are,” he said, gaze steady. “You’re the last Rossman. The final piece in a billion dollar chess game. Everyone wants some move.”
Naomi’s heart ached.
She wasn’t paranoid.
She wasn't.
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Back in her hotel suite that night, Naomi couldn’t sleep.
Her thoughts went all over between Diego, David, and now Ronaldo. All three brothers were powerful. Dangerous. And hiding something.
But which of them had taken the photo?
Which of them wanted to destroy her?
Or worse… own her?
She turned on the lights and opened her laptop, searching for answers. News articles. Corporate headlines. Public statements. Anything that could link the brothers.
But what she found made her blood freeze.
Marciano Global’s private subsidiary. Silver Seal Holdings, had acquired Rossman Urban Properties six weeks before her parents’ accident.
The deal had been sealed in the past. No headlines. No announcements.
Why would such a firm buy out her family’s property asset… before the crash?
And more importantly, who authorized it?
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: You’re asking the wrong questions.
She stared in disbelief. The sender was watching her… in real time.
She jumped to her feet and checked through the room. Nothing seemed out of place. But the message was clear.
She wasn’t alone.
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The next morning, Naomi called her private investigator, Garraway Chase. He was expensive, ex-military, and owed her father a favor.
“I need eyes on three men,” she said. “Diego, David, and Ronaldo Marciano. I want surveillance, tracking, everything intense and off the normal.”
Garraway hesitated. “You sure you want to do this, Miss Rossman?”
“I don’t have a choice,” she whispered.
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That evening, Naomi returned to Miami for a weekend charity gala her parents had once hosted. It was the kind of event the old Naomi would have dominated postures, compose, and smile for cameras.
But this Naomi was different.
Stronger. And angrier. And smart.
As she descended the grand staircase of the Rossman estate, the crowd murmured. She looked exceptional in her sapphire gown, heir to a legacy and target of a game she didn’t understand.
At the far end of the ballroom, she saw him.
Diego.
Leaning against the bar, drink in hand, watching her like a predator.
He looked exactly as she remembered him. Rugged, untamed, unapologetically handsome.
Naomi’s heart thumped in her chest. She walked straight toward him.
“You disappeared,” she said when she reached him.
He smiled faintly. “You’re still thinking about that event?”
“I got a photo in the mail,” she said, voice cold. With David in a bar.”
Diego’s smile faded.
“I didn’t take it,” he said slowly.
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “But if you got it… it means you’re in deeper than you think.”
Naomi stared at him, the air between them charged.
“I trusted you all,” she whispered.
“And I never asked you to.”
She stepped back. “Stay away from me.”
But as she turned, Diego grabbed her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop her.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“They’re not who you think they are, Naomi. Neither am I.”
Before she could ask what that meant, a sudden commotion interrupted at the front of the estate.
Security guards shouted. Guests gasping.
Naomi turned.
A man stood at the entrance, holding up a phone.
Onscreen was a video feed.
Naomi’s bedroom.
Right now.
On the screen, someone in a black hoodie was planting a hidden camera under her pillow.
“Check her room!” someone yelled.
Naomi’s blood ran cold.
The enemy wasn’t coming.
They were already inside.
- Writer
