Chapter 8 - Isabella Santoro ReturnsIsabella Santoro entered the estate at 6:12 the next morning wearing cream trousers, dark sunglasses, and the expression of a woman who had not apologized since approximately 1987.
Leo stood in the foyer.
Tessa stood beside him.
Carlo blocked the doors behind Isabella.
No one spoke.
Finally, Isabella removed her sunglasses.
She looked at Leo.
“You got taller.”
Leo’s face remained stone.
“I was twelve.”
“I remember.”
“You left.”
“Yes.”
“And apparently returned months ago without telling me.”
“Yes.”
Tessa whispered, “This family communicates beautifully.”
Isabella looked at her.
A slow smile appeared.
“Tessa Jenkins.”
Leo stepped forward.
“You don’t say her name.”
Isabella rolled her eyes.
“Oh, please. You’re thirty-eight, Leonardo.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“You were born Leonardo.”
“And you were born Isabella Moretti. We all survive disappointments.”
Tessa covered a cough.
Carlo suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Isabella looked at Tessa.
“I see why he likes you.”
“That makes one of us.”
Leo glanced at her.
Tessa ignored him.
“Why did you manipulate Greg into meeting me?” she asked.
Isabella’s amusement disappeared.
“Because I needed someone close to you who Antonio would underestimate.”
Greg stood near the staircase.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That wasn’t gratitude.”
“I know.”
Tessa stepped forward.
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
“At least this family is consistent.”
Leo’s mouth tightened.
Isabella sighed.
“I needed to know whether you had Evelyn’s archive.”
“You could have asked.”
“And you would have told a stranger?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why Greg?”
“Because Antonio already knew you worked here. I suspected he would eventually move against you. A harmless civilian attached to you offered an information channel he might exploit.”
Tessa stared.
“You deliberately made me bait.”
“No. I positioned another piece on the board.”
“I am not a piece.”
Isabella’s expression changed.
“You’re right.”
The immediate admission disarmed Tessa.
“I spent too many years among men who call manipulation strategy.”
Her eyes moved to Leo.
“I see my son inherited some habits.”
Leo’s face darkened.
“You don’t get to judge me.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You left me with him.”
The room went silent.
Isabella’s face lost color.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I have known every day for twenty-six years.”
“Not enough to come back.”
“Your father threatened your life if I did.”
“He was dead six years ago.”
“And Antonio took control of his network before the funeral.”
Leo froze.
“What?”
Isabella removed a file from her bag.
“Antonio has controlled more of the Santoro organization than you realize.”
She placed photographs on the table.
Meetings.
Payments.
Leo’s captains speaking to Antonio.
“Half these men report to me.”
“They report to whoever they believe will win.”
Carlo stepped closer.
“How long have you been investigating?”
“Seventeen years.”
Tessa stared.
“You knew my mother?”
Isabella looked at her.
“Yes.”
Tessa’s heart stopped.
“How?”
“Evelyn helped me escape.”
Leo’s expression shattered.
Isabella continued.
“Your mother arranged documents, money, and a route out of the country. She knew what Vittorio was. She knew what Antonio was becoming.”
Leo whispered, “You knew Evelyn Jenkins.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“You became Santoro boss.”
“So?”
“I didn’t know whether you had become your father.”
The words struck.
Leo turned away.
Tessa saw his fists close.
Isabella looked at her.
“Evelyn believed Leo could be different.”
Tessa blinked.
“She wrote about him?”
“She believed children should not inherit their fathers’ sins.”
Leo laughed once.
Cold.
“That was optimistic.”
“No,” Isabella said. “It was an instruction.”
Silence.
Tessa placed both hands on the table.
“Where is my father?”
Isabella looked toward Carlo.
“Antonio uses three private properties. One burned last year. One is watched by federal agents.”
“The third?” Leo asked.
“An abandoned winery north of Hudson Valley.”
Leo was already moving.
Isabella stopped him.
“If you attack directly, Michael dies.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Yes.”
“The archive?”
“Yes.”
Tessa shook her head.
“We don’t have it yet.”
“You know where it is.”
“How?”
“Because I know Evelyn.”
“Bank box.”
Isabella nodded.
“Antonio knows too.”
Tessa’s stomach dropped.
“He’ll watch the bank.”
“He already is.”
Leo cursed.
“We need a duplicate.”
Greg spoke.
“Give him fake records.”
Everyone looked at the actuary.
Greg adjusted his glasses.
“What?”
Leo stared.
“Continue.”
“If the archive contains financial documents, you can manufacture something plausible enough to pass inspection for a few minutes.”
Carlo looked impressed.
“You can do that?”
Greg frowned.
“I’m an actuary, not a counterfeiter.”
Leo looked disappointed.
“But,” Greg continued, “I understand financial structures. If you show me some original ledger pages, I can build records consistent with them.”
Tessa stared at Greg.
“You’re volunteering to help the mafia create fraudulent documents?”
Greg looked uncomfortable.
“I prefer ‘rescue your father.’”
Leo gave him a strange look.
“I underestimated you.”
Greg nodded.
“You threatened me over tiramisu.”
“I was having a difficult evening.”
By noon, they had a plan.
Greg would construct a convincing partial archive.
Isabella would arrange a meeting with Antonio.
Tessa would appear to surrender the documents.
Leo hated every part of it.
Especially the part involving Tessa physically entering the winery.
“No.”
They stood inside his office.
“No what?”
“You’re not going inside.”
“Antonio demanded me.”
“He demanded the archive.”
“He kidnapped my father because of me.”
“He kidnapped your father because Antonio is a psychopath.”
“I’m going.”
Leo slammed both hands onto the desk.
“No.”
Tessa went still.
His breathing was heavy.
Old Leo had returned.
Control driven by terror.
“Remember the rules.”
“This is different.”
“It always is when you’re frightened.”
“He could kill you.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t—”
Leo stopped.
Something almost desperate crossed his face.
“I cannot stand outside while someone points a gun at you.”
Tessa’s anger softened.
Not disappeared.
Softened.
“You might have to.”
“No.”
“Leo.”
“I watched my mother leave through a door when I was twelve.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I watched my father burn every photograph of her. I learned that people disappear when you let them walk away.”
Tessa stared.
“I know that isn’t rational.”
He looked ashamed of the admission.
“But when you walked toward Greg’s car in that dress, every stupid, ugly instinct in me said stop her before she disappears too.”
Tessa’s throat tightened.
“And now?”
“Now I know stopping you is the fastest way to lose you.”
Silence.
Tessa approached.
She stood inches from him.
“Then trust me.”
Leo looked at her.
“I don’t know how.”
“Try.”
His eyes closed briefly.
Then he nodded.
“I’ll try.”
Tessa touched his cheek.
The gesture surprised both of them.
Leo did not move.
He waited.
Tessa could feel his breath against her wrist.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
The question mattered.
Maybe more than the kiss itself.
Tessa answered by rising onto her toes.
Their mouths met.
Nothing about it was gentle at first.
A year of hidden glances collided with fear, anger, jealousy, and relief.
Leo’s good hand settled against her waist.
Then immediately loosened.
Giving her room.
Tessa moved closer voluntarily.
His control broke with a rough sound against her mouth.
She kissed him harder.
When they separated, both were breathing too fast.
Leo rested his forehead against hers.
“That was a terrible tactical decision.”
“Why?”
“Because now I’m definitely not letting you into that winery.”
Tessa laughed.
“You learned nothing.”
“I learned kissing you destroys judgment.”
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“It is.”
She stepped away.
“I’m still going.”
Leo looked miserable.
May you like
“Yes.”
It was perhaps the most important yes he had ever given her.
