Chapter 3 - Then she considered crushed digitalis tablets.
“Don’t drink that.”
“Clara, I’m thirsty.”
“I said don’t.”
Clara took the glass away.
Her eyes swept the room.
The nervous waiter was already retreating rapidly toward the kitchen.
Clara stood.
“Isabella, stay here. Don’t eat or drink anything.”
“Where are you going?”
Clara did not answer.
She followed the waiter.
Inside the kitchen, chefs and servers moved through controlled chaos.
Clara spotted the man slipping through a rear exit into the gardens.
She followed.
Outside, cool night air replaced the heat of the kitchen.
The waiter stood several yards away, hurriedly dialing a number on his phone.
“It’s done,” he whispered. “She drank it. The old woman is done.”
Clara’s blood turned cold.
He had tried to kill Isabella.
She looked around.
No guards were nearby.
Most security personnel were positioned around the front of the estate.
At Clara’s feet was a heavy stone garden ornament.
The waiter turned.
He saw her.
His expression changed instantly.
A switchblade appeared in his hand.
“You shouldn’t have followed me.”
Clara did not retreat.
She had grown up in East Pillars.
She had dealt with intoxicated customers and street muggers.
But this man was different.
He had been hired to kill.
“Who sent you?”
“Does it matter?”
He lunged.
Clara moved aside.
The knife passed inches from the green silk dress.
She stumbled backward and grabbed the stone ornament.
He came at her again.
A gunshot split the night.
The waiter stopped.
A small red hole appeared in the center of his forehead.
He collapsed onto the grass before Clara fully understood what had happened.
She screamed and dropped the stone.
Lorenzo stood approximately 10 feet away.
Smoke rose from the pistol in his hand.
His face carried pure rage.
But none of it was directed toward Clara.
He holstered the weapon and crossed the distance in 2 strides.
His hands closed around Clara’s shoulders hard enough to bruise.
“Did he touch you?”
He shook her once.
“Did he touch you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Clara looked at the dead man.
“He put something in Isabella’s water. I stopped her. I followed him.”
Lorenzo went completely still.
He searched Clara’s face as though confirming every word.
Then he pulled her against him.
The embrace was hard and desperate.
His face pressed against her neck.
“You saved her again.”
His voice was barely more than a whisper.
“God help me. You saved her again.”
Clara could feel his heart hammering.
For the first time, she understood that the monster everyone feared was capable of terror.
He had almost lost his mother.
And he had almost lost Clara.
“Lorenzo.”
Her hands rose hesitantly to his chest.
He pulled back and held her face between his palms.
Adrenaline still ran through both of them.
His eyes dropped to her lips.
“We have to go inside.”
His voice was rough.
“We have to lock down the estate. Someone inside allowed him access.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
The softness vanished from Lorenzo’s face.
The don returned.
“But I will burn the city to the ground to find them.”
He took Clara’s hand.
Their fingers intertwined.
“Stay with me, Clara. Do not leave my side.”
His grip tightened.
“Tonight, you are not the nurse.”
He looked directly into her eyes.
“You are mine.”
They returned toward the mansion, leaving the dead attacker in the darkness.
By then, Clara understood 2 things.
Someone powerful wanted the Moretti family dead.
And Clara was no longer merely an employee watching events from the edge.
She had become part of them.
That meant she had become a target.
It also meant she was falling in love with the man whose world had placed that target on her.
The estate went into lockdown.
Steel shutters descended over the windows until the Tuscan villa became a bunker.
Lorenzo turned into a storm of commands and barely restrained violence.
20 armed men searched the property, reviewed security cameras, and checked telephone records.
Clara sat inside the library with a blanket around her shoulders.
The adrenaline was fading.
In its place came a cold that seemed to reach into her bones.
A man had died only feet away from her.
She had nearly been stabbed.
The library door opened.
Lorenzo entered.
His tuxedo jacket was gone.
His sleeves were rolled back, revealing tattoos winding along his forearms, symbols connected to loyalty and death.
He crossed directly to Clara.
Without asking, he poured 2 glasses of brandy.
“Drink.”
Clara accepted the glass.
Her hand shook badly enough to ripple the liquid.
“Who was he?”
“A mercenary. A hired gun. No identification. No prints.”
Lorenzo swallowed the brandy in a single motion.
Then he crouched in front of Clara until their eyes were level.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“I dragged you into this hell.”
“You didn’t drag me.”
Clara’s voice regained some strength.
“I walked in. I needed the money.”
Lorenzo studied her.
“And now?”
He leaned slightly closer.
“You have the money. You could leave. I can put you on a plane to Switzerland tonight. New name. New life. You would be safe.”
Clara thought about East Pillars.
The tiny apartment.
The years of being unseen.
Then she looked at Lorenzo, the man who would burn a city for his family and who had looked at her across a chessboard with something close to wonder.
“I’m not leaving Isabella.”
She paused.
“And I’m not leaving you.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes briefly as though the words hurt.
Then he kissed her.
There was nothing gentle about it.
It was desperation, fear, and desire colliding at once.
The blanket fell from Clara’s shoulders.
Her hands entered his hair.
For several hours, while armed guards patrolled the property, the library became the only quiet place in the estate.
But safety inside the Moretti world never lasted.
At 4:00 a.m., the alarm system did not sound.
It simply stopped working.
The lights in the library went black.
“Stay down.”
Lorenzo drew a pistol from his waistband and moved toward the door.
The door exploded inward.
A flashbang detonated.
White light filled Clara’s vision.
The blast struck her ears like a physical blow.
She screamed and covered her head.
Men in tactical equipment poured into the room.
Lorenzo fired repeatedly.
3 shots.
2 attackers fell.
There were too many.
Taser wires struck Lorenzo in the chest.
His body convulsed.
He collapsed.
“Lorenzo!”
Clara moved toward him.
A heavy boot struck her in the ribs.
She fell, struggling for breath.
“Grab the girl. Leave him.”
Clara looked toward the doorway.
A familiar man stood there beneath the tactical lights.
It was not Luca Rossi.
It was Carlo.
Lorenzo’s head of security.
The man who had come to Clara’s apartment the first night.
The man Lorenzo trusted with his life.
“Carlo.”
Lorenzo tried to move as the electrical paralysis began to fade.
“Why?”
Carlo smiled grimly.
“Business, boss. Luca Rossi pays better.”
He stepped farther into the library.
“He also promised me the territory after you’re gone.”
Then he looked at Clara.
“Bring her. She’s insurance. If the old woman refuses to sign over the assets, we start sending pieces of the nurse to her.”
Lorenzo’s voice became a guttural growl.
“If you touch her, I will kill you. I will peel the skin from your bones.”
Carlo looked amused.
“You have to catch me first, Enzo.”
He kicked Lorenzo in the face.
Lorenzo went limp.
2 men grabbed Clara.
She fought violently.
She bit.
Scratched.
Kicked.
They were stronger.
They dragged her out of the library, through the estate, past the bodies of loyal Moretti guards.
The last thing Clara saw was Lorenzo motionless on the Persian rug with blood pooling around his head.
Clara regained consciousness to the smell of salt and diesel.
She was tied to a chair in the middle of an enormous warehouse.
Shipping containers rose around her like rusted skyscrapers.
Waves struck a nearby dock.
“She is awake.”
Clara blinked until her vision cleared.
Luca Rossi stood in front of her.
He was the man in the white suit Lorenzo had warned her about at the gala.
Even inside the filthy warehouse, Luca appeared immaculate.
He held a clean handkerchief near his nose as though the smell offended him.
Carlo stood behind him.
He looked pleased with himself.
“Ms. Vance.”
Luca smiled.
“The waitress who plays doctor. I hear you’re quite talented. You saved the old witch twice.”
His smile widened.
“A pity you won’t be able to save yourself.”
“Where is Lorenzo?”
Clara’s mouth was dry.
“Oh, he’s alive.”
Luca waved dismissively.
“For now.”
He pulled another chair over and sat opposite her.
“He’s currently tearing the city apart looking for you, which is exactly what I wanted. Lorenzo becomes reckless when he’s emotional.”
Luca leaned back.
“Here is the plan, Clara. I call Lorenzo. I tell him to come here alone and trade his life for yours. He comes. He signs over the Moretti territories.”
Luca smiled again.
“And then, well, I dislike loose ends.”
“He’ll kill you.”
Luca’s expression hardened slightly.
“He’s smarter than you.”
“He plays checkers.”
Luca scoffed.
“I play chess.”
“You don’t know anything about chess.”
Luca slapped her.
The blow snapped Clara’s head aside.
Blood filled her mouth.
“Quiet, staff.”
He pulled out his phone.
The call connected.
Luca put it on speaker.
“Rossi.”
Lorenzo’s voice came through the device, distorted but terrifyingly calm.
“Enzo, I have your little nurse.”
Luca watched Clara while he spoke.
“She is very pretty. It would be unfortunate if she lost that pretty face.”
“Name the place.”
No pleading.
No bargaining.
Only ice.
“Pier 49. The old cannery. Alone. 1 hour, or she dies.”
“I’m coming.”
The call ended.
Luca laughed.
“Too easy.”
He looked at Carlo.
“Put the men in position. Snipers above. When he walks through those doors, I want him on his knees before he gets 3 steps inside.”
Clara began examining the room.
She was in serious danger.
But she noticed something.
The knot around her left wrist was loose.
Whoever had tied it had been careless.
Her father’s lessons returned to her.
Observe the board.
Find the weakness.
Her weakness was obvious.
Physical strength.
Their weakness was arrogance.
They did not consider her dangerous.
She was a woman.
A waitress.
A nobody.
Clara slowly began rotating her wrist.
The rope burned her skin.
She kept moving.
Millimeter by millimeter, it loosened.
30 minutes passed.
Approximately 20 armed men waited throughout the warehouse.
Then the large metal doors opened.
A silhouette appeared.
Lorenzo.
Alone.
He wore a long black coat.
He walked inside with his hands raised.
“I’m here.”
His voice echoed through the warehouse.
“Let her go.”
“Checkmate,” Luca whispered.
He emerged from behind a shipping container with a gun aimed at Clara’s head.
“Welcome, Enzo.”
Luca smiled.
“So noble.”
He pointed downward.
“Kneel.”
Lorenzo looked at Clara.
His eyes found the bruise across her cheek.
Something in his expression darkened until his eyes seemed almost black.
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the dirty concrete.
“Sign the papers.”
Luca indicated a table.
“Then she walks.”
Lorenzo reached into his coat.
“Slowly,” Carlo shouted from a catwalk overhead.
He held a rifle trained on Lorenzo.
Lorenzo removed what appeared to be a pen.
He did not sign.
Instead, he looked at Clara.
Then at her hands.
Clara’s left hand was free.
She concealed it behind the chair.
Their eyes met.
She tapped 1 finger against the chair leg.
It was a rhythm they had established during late nights in the library.
The queen moves.
“I’m not signing,” Lorenzo said calmly.
“Then she dies.”
May you like
Luca cocked the pistol.
“Now!” Clara screamed.
