Chapter 4 - The Woman Behind the Locked Door
Three weeks after Sadi Miller agreed to spend the rest of her life with Roman Rossi, she discovered that loving a dangerous man came with an astonishing amount of paperwork.
Not romantic paperwork.
Not marriage licenses or mortgage applications or the sort of cheerful forms couples filled out while arguing over whose name went first.
Roman's paperwork came in black folders.
They arrived every morning at precisely seven.
Property deeds. Corporate structures. Employee lists. Security schedules. Insurance policies. Warehouse manifests. Legal retainers. Names of shell companies that sounded so boring Sadi suspected boredom itself was part of the disguise.
On her twenty-second morning at the Rossi estate, she sat at the enormous kitchen island wearing Roman's white dress shirt over black leggings and stared at a document titled MIDWEST COLD STORAGE HOLDINGS LLC.
"This is money laundering," she said.
Across from her, Roman continued reading the newspaper.
"That's a serious accusation."
"There are six companies paying rent to a seventh company, and you own all seven."
"Efficient."
"One of them is called Lakeview Produce Solutions. It has no employees."
"Produce is independent by nature."
Sadi lowered the folder.
Roman's expression remained perfectly straight.
She had learned something surprising during the past three weeks.
Roman Rossi did, in fact, possess a sense of humor.
It was simply buried beneath approximately six feet of intimidation, expensive wool, and unresolved childhood trauma.
"You're impossible," she said.
"And yet you're wearing my shirt."
"Because all my clothes are still in boxes."
"Your clothes have an entire dressing room upstairs."
"Your housekeeper organized them by color. I can't find anything."
"You are the housekeeper."
Sadi threw a grape at him.
Roman caught it without looking.
For one second, he smiled.
Then the kitchen door opened.
The smile disappeared.
Nico Bellini entered carrying another black folder.
Nico was Roman's oldest lieutenant, a lean forty-year-old with silver beginning at his temples and the permanently exhausted expression of a man responsible for preventing other men from doing stupid things with firearms.
He stopped when he saw Sadi.
The hesitation lasted less than a second.
Sadi noticed anyway.
Everyone hesitated around her now.
That was one of the strangest changes.
Three weeks ago, men in the Rossi organization had barely acknowledged the woman who refilled their coffee.
Now they called her Miss Miller and stood straighter when she entered rooms.
Not because she had changed.
Because Roman had.
Everyone had seen it.
The boss listened when she spoke.
That made her dangerous by association.
Sadi hated it.
And, if she was being truthful, a small part of her enjoyed watching arrogant men suddenly remember her name.
"What happened?" Roman asked.
Nico placed the folder on the island.
"Federal subpoenas. Twelve of them."
Roman did not move.
Sadi did.
She sat straighter.
"For what?"
Nico looked at Roman before answering.
Sadi caught it.
"Don't do that."
Nico blinked.
"Do what?"
"Look at him to see whether you're allowed to answer me. If this concerns the house I'm living in, I get to know."
Roman folded his newspaper.
"Answer her."
Nico's mouth tightened faintly.
"The country club shooting brought attention. The FBI has been reviewing Roman's legitimate companies. Someone gave them internal accounting records."
Roman opened the folder.
His face became unreadable.
Sadi knew that face.
It meant someone was about to have a terrible week.
"How internal?" he asked.
"Payroll. Freight schedules. Vendor transfers. Enough to know where to look."
"Who had access?"
"Seven people."
"Make it six."
Nico frowned.
Roman slid one page across the island.
"Daniel Moretti is dead."
"Right. Six."
Sadi looked between them.
"You think there's a traitor."
Roman's gaze met hers.
"I know there is."
A cold sensation crawled across Sadi's skin.
The house suddenly felt different.
The guards outside were no longer protection from enemies beyond the gates.
One of the enemies might already be inside.
Roman stood.
"Nico, lock down access to the financial servers. Nobody leaves Chicago without approval. I want every phone mirrored by noon."
"Including mine?"
"Especially yours."
Nico nodded once.
He turned toward the door.
"Wait," Sadi said.
Both men looked at her.
She picked up one subpoena.
"Why would someone give the FBI freight schedules? If they wanted Roman arrested, wouldn't they give them evidence of actual crimes?"
Silence.
Nico's eyebrows rose.
Roman's eyes narrowed.
Sadi continued.
"These records create pressure. They make investigators search warehouses, freeze accounts, question employees. But if there's nothing directly criminal in what they received, whoever leaked them isn't trying to finish Roman."
"They're trying to distract me," Roman said.
Sadi nodded.
"From something else."
Nico looked at her differently then.
Not as Roman's girlfriend.
As a person in the room.
"I'll check inventory movements," he said.
"Check properties too," Sadi replied. "Anything someone could move while everyone is watching the money."
Roman's gaze remained fixed on her after Nico left.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"That's your lying face."
"I don't have a lying face."
"You absolutely do. Your left eyebrow gets arrogant."
Roman walked around the island.
He stopped behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"You saw something Nico didn't."
"I spent years cleaning houses while rich people talked in front of me like furniture. You learn things when nobody thinks you're listening."
His thumbs moved slowly against her neck.
"I told you that you belonged at the table."
"I'm not sure I want your table. Half the people at it get shot."
"Occupational hazard."
Sadi leaned her head back against his chest.
For a few seconds, the room softened.
Then someone screamed upstairs.
Sadi was on her feet before Roman.
The scream came again.
A woman's scream.
Roman drew a pistol from beneath his jacket and moved toward the hall.
"Stay here."
Sadi stared at his back.
"Absolutely not."
"Sadi."
"We discussed this."
"We discussed you not shrinking yourself. We did not discuss you following gunfire."
"There wasn't gunfire."
"Yet."
He moved fast.
Sadi followed faster than he wanted.
Two guards appeared from the east corridor.
The scream had come from the second floor.
Roman climbed the staircase silently.
Sadi stayed six steps behind.
At the top, they found Maria, the senior housekeeper, pressed against the wall outside the east wing.
Her face was white.
The heavy oak door stood open.
Sadi stopped.
For nearly a year she had worked in this house.
That door had always been locked.
She had never asked why.
Maria pointed inside.
"Someone broke the lock."
Roman's face changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
It was the first time Sadi had ever seen fear on him.
He pushed through the doorway.
The east wing was not what Sadi expected.
No torture chamber.
No weapons.
No secret stacks of money.
It was an apartment.
Warm yellow walls.
Bookshelves.
A small television.
A vase of fresh flowers.
And sitting in an armchair beside the window was an elderly woman with silver hair.
She wore a pale blue cardigan.
Her hands trembled in her lap.
"Roman?"
Roman lowered the gun immediately.
"Mama."
Sadi stopped breathing.
The woman looked at Roman, then beyond him toward Sadi.
Her frightened expression softened.
"Is that her?"
Roman went completely still.
Sadi looked at him.
"Her?"
The old woman smiled.
"The girl from the kitchen."
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
Sadi almost laughed despite the tension.
"You told your mother about me?"
"This is not the time."
"You told your mother about me before we were even fake dating?"
"Sadi."
The elderly woman laughed.
It was a delicate sound.
Roman Rossi, feared across Chicago, looked genuinely embarrassed.
Then Sadi noticed the broken window latch.
The laughter died.
Someone had entered the room.
Roman saw it too.
He crossed to the window.
A small envelope rested on the sill.
His name was written across it.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Sadi standing outside her old apartment.
Taken two days earlier.
On the back were six words.
YOU FOUND SOMETHING TO LOSE.
Roman's hand tightened until the photograph bent.
"Everybody out," he said.
The room emptied immediately.
Everyone except Sadi.
Roman looked at her.
"That includes you."
"No."
"Sadi."
"Who is your mother? Why is she hidden here? And who knows about her?"
Roman's jaw worked.
His mother watched them quietly.
Finally she spoke.
"Tell her, Roman. If she is going to love you, let her love the truth."
Roman looked as though he would rather face ten armed men.
But he obeyed.
"My father built this organization," he said. "He was cruel. To everyone. Especially her. When I was seventeen, she tried to leave. He found her."
Roman's voice became flat.
"He beat her badly enough to cause permanent neurological damage."
Sadi's stomach tightened.
"What happened to him?"
Roman looked at her.
He did not answer.
He did not need to.
Sadi understood.
At seventeen, Roman Rossi had killed his father.
His mother looked toward the window.
"My son has spent twenty years believing locked doors are the same thing as safety."
Roman flinched.
The sentence landed harder than an accusation.
Sadi stepped closer.
"And now someone knows she's here."
"Yes."
"And they know about me."
"Yes."
Roman turned toward the doorway.
"Pack a bag. You're leaving Chicago tonight."
Sadi stared at him.
There it was.
The command.
The decision.
The locked door.
"No."
Roman turned slowly.
"This is not negotiable."
"Then you misunderstood what partnership means."
His mother smiled faintly.
Roman did not.
"Someone broke into my house, reached my mother, and photographed you. I am not debating this."
"You're not protecting me if you make every choice for me. You're just building a prettier locked room."
Roman's face went hard.
"I would rather have you hate me alive than love me dead."
Sadi stepped close enough to touch him.
"And I would rather stand beside you informed than spend my life wondering which danger you're hiding from me."
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Roman's phone rang.
He answered.
Nico's voice came through the speaker, urgent.
"Boss. We found what the subpoenas were distracting us from."
Roman's eyes stayed on Sadi.
"What?"
"Someone emptied Warehouse Nine last night."
Roman's expression darkened.
"What was stored there?" Sadi asked.
Nico heard her.
He hesitated.
Then answered.
"Thirty million dollars."
Sadi blinked.
Roman said nothing.
Nico continued.
"And there's something worse. The security code used to enter belonged to a dead man."
"Whose?" Roman asked.
A pause.
"Your father's."
The room became silent.
Roman's mother dropped her teacup.
May you like
Porcelain shattered across the floor.
And for the first time since Sadi had known him, Roman Rossi looked like a man being haunted by a ghost.
