Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Wasn't Supposed to Be There
They put me in a room without a lock.
That should have made me feel better.
It didn't.
A guard stood outside.
The room contained a leather couch, fireplace, television, and a window overlooking the mountain. Under any other circumstances it might have been luxurious.
That night, it was a beautiful jail cell.
I paced.
At 2:11, I tried the door.
The guard looked at me.
"Bathroom."
"Inside."
"Water?"
"Inside."
"Food?"
He pointed toward a covered plate.
"Inside."
"You people thought of everything."
No reaction.
"Can I have my phone?"
"No."
"My brother is home alone."
That changed something in his face.
Only slightly.
"How old?"
"Twenty-two."
"Then he's an adult."
"He has a lung condition."
The guard looked away.
"I need to call him."
"I'll ask."
"Thank you."
The door closed.
I sat on the couch.
My hands were still shaking.
I could still feel Lorenzo's fingers around my wrist.
Don't.
One word.
One command.
Every armed man in the room had obeyed.
Who was this person?
I looked at the untouched food.
Then I remembered the conversation downstairs.
Romano.
The way everyone stopped talking when they heard the name.
The guards.
The fortress.
The secrecy.
I suddenly wanted my phone for another reason.
I wanted Google.
Instead, twenty minutes later, the silver-haired man entered.
He closed the door behind him.
"My name is Vincent Moretti."
"Mia Sutton."
"I know."
Of course he did.
He sat across from me.
"You really work at a diner?"
"Six days a week."
"And catering?"
"When they call."
"Family?"
"My brother."
"Parents?"
"Dead."
He asked it casually.
I answered cautiously.
"My father died when I was nineteen. My mother three years later."
"Boyfriend?"
"No."
"Debts?"
I stared at him.
"Is this an interrogation?"
"Yes."
At least he was honest.
"Why?"
"Because Lorenzo Romano has been unconscious for six months, Miss Sutton."
"I heard."
"Thirty-seven specialists have treated him."
That was already more believable than the dramatic rumor I had overheard downstairs.
"Neurologists from Boston. Cardiologists from New York. Experimental-treatment specialists from Switzerland and Germany. None could produce a meaningful response."
"And you think I did?"
"I think you entered his room and thirty seconds later he woke up."
"I spilled coffee."
"You kissed him."
"Accidentally."
Vincent leaned back.
"Do you believe in coincidences?"
"Right now? Very much."
For the first time, the corner of his mouth moved.
Not a smile.
Almost.
Then his expression hardened again.
"Lorenzo was not injured in an accident."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Someone tried to kill him."
Silence.
I looked toward the door.
Vincent noticed.
"Now you're beginning to understand."
"I don't understand anything."
"That's safer."
"Then let me leave."
"Can't."
"Because of the storm?"
"No."
At least he had stopped pretending.
Vincent leaned forward.
"Because whoever tried to kill Lorenzo may still be inside this building."
I stared at him.
"Inside?"
"We never identified the person responsible."
"And somehow that involves me?"
"It might."
"I was working at Hal's Diner three hours ago."
"Someone requested your catering company."
"That isn't suspicious."
"Someone specifically requested a female server."
My mouth went dry.
"I didn't know that."
"Someone changed the delivery instructions forty-three minutes before your dispatch called you."
I said nothing.
Vincent studied me.
"Still believe in coincidences?"
Less than before.
"Who changed them?"
"We're finding out."
"And until then?"
"You remain here."
I stood.
"You can't imprison me."
Vincent remained seated.
"You're right."
"Good."
"But I can prevent you from walking into a situation that may get you killed."
That stopped me.
"What situation?"
"The person who poisoned Lorenzo knows he's awake."
Poisoned.
The word landed heavily.
Vincent continued.
"If your presence had anything to do with his recovery, they may assume you know something."
"I don't."
"People have died for knowing less."
My legs suddenly felt weak.
I sat down.
For several seconds, only the fire made noise.
Then I asked, "Who is Lorenzo Romano?"
Vincent looked at me.
"You truly don't know?"
"No."
His expression became almost amused.
"That's probably why he likes you."
"He doesn't know me."
"He asked for you twice."
My heartbeat stumbled.
"What?"
"He's conscious. Disoriented, but improving faster than expected."
"That's good."
"He wants to see you."
"No."
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
"No?"
"I've already kissed a stranger in a coma tonight. I'm done making bad decisions."
This time he actually smiled.
It vanished quickly.
"Tell him yourself."
Five minutes later, I was back in Lorenzo's room.
Most of the doctors had gone.
Only two remained.
Lorenzo was sitting slightly elevated now.
He looked different awake.
More dangerous.
That sounds ridiculous when describing a man connected to an IV.
But it was true.
His eyes followed me as I entered.
Vincent stopped near the door.
Lorenzo's voice was rough.
"Leave us."
The doctor protested.
"You've been conscious less than an hour."
"Then imagine how much privacy I've missed."
"Lorenzo—"
"Five minutes."
Everyone left except Vincent.
Lorenzo looked at him.
"That includes you."
Vincent frowned.
Then obeyed.
The door closed.
I stood six feet from the bed.
Lorenzo watched me.
"You look terrified."
"Your employees searched me, confiscated my phone, and put a guard outside my room."
"They're not employees."
"That makes it worse."
Something almost warm appeared in his eyes.
"Come closer."
"I'm comfortable here."
"You're twelve feet away."
"Exactly."
He looked at the chair beside his bed.
I reluctantly moved closer and sat.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked, "Did you really kiss me?"
I closed my eyes.
"Can we please never discuss that?"
"So yes."
"I fell."
"I've been told."
"It wasn't romantic."
"Disappointing."
I stared at him.
He smiled faintly.
That was when I realized something.
He was testing me.
Not flirting.
Watching.
Measuring.
"What do you remember?" I asked.
His smile disappeared.
"Before waking?"
"Yes."
"Nothing."
"Nothing at all?"
"Pieces."
His eyes shifted toward the window.
"Rain."
"It was snowing tonight."
"Not tonight."
His jaw tightened.
"I remember being in Manhattan."
He paused.
"A glass breaking."
Another pause.
"Someone saying my name."
His heart monitor increased slightly.
"Then darkness."
I didn't know what to say.
Lorenzo looked back at me.
"And then you."
"Sorry."
"Why?"
"For falling on you."
"You woke me up."
"The doctors woke you up."
"No."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do they."
Fair point.
He studied my face.
"What's your name?"
"Mia."
"Mia what?"
"Sutton."
"Mia Sutton."
The way he repeated it made me uncomfortable.
Like he was filing it somewhere permanent.
"What were you doing in my room?"
"Coffee delivery."
"At two in the morning?"
"Apparently unconscious mafia lords keep terrible hours."
The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Lorenzo became still.
"Who told you I'm mafia?"
"No one."
"Then why say it?"
I gestured around the room.
"Private mountain fortress. Armed guards. Everyone terrified of you. Men in expensive suits. Secret poisoning."
He considered that.
"Reasonable."
"So am I wrong?"
He didn't answer.
Which was an answer.
I stood.
"I need to call my brother."
Lorenzo looked toward the door.
"Vincent."
The door opened instantly.
Apparently privacy had limits.
"Give her phone back."
Vincent hesitated.
"Lorenzo—"
"Now."
Ten minutes later, I heard Tommy's voice.
"Mia?"
My knees nearly gave out.
"Hey."
"Where are you?"
"Work."
"At three in the morning?"
"Long story."
He coughed.
That familiar dry, painful cough.
I closed my eyes.
"You took your medication?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Don't call me Mom."
"You act like one."
"How's your breathing?"
"Fine."
"Tommy."
A pause.
"A little rough."
"I'll be home soon."
I looked through the glass wall.
Vincent stood in the corridor.
Behind him, two guards.
I wasn't sure whether that statement was true.
Tommy said, "Mia?"
"Yeah?"
"Something weird happened."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"A man came to the apartment."
I stood immediately.
"What man?"
"I don't know. Suit. Expensive car."
"When?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
"What did he want?"
"He asked for you."
Every hair on my arms rose.
"What did you tell him?"
"That you were working."
"Did you let him inside?"
"I'm sick, not stupid."
"Lock everything."
"It's already locked."
"Tommy, listen to me. Don't open that door for anybody."
"Mia, what's happening?"
"I don't know."
That was the truth.
And suddenly it terrified me more than any lie could have.
The call ended.
I turned.
Lorenzo was watching me from his bed.
He had heard enough.
"Someone went to your home?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
Lorenzo's expression changed.
Weakness disappeared behind something colder.
He looked at Vincent.
"Bring her brother here."
"What?"
I stepped toward the bed.
"No."
Lorenzo ignored me.
"Send two cars."
"I said no."
His eyes moved to mine.
"Someone knows you're here, Mia."
"You don't know that."
"The catering company knows."
"So?"
"The people who poisoned me may control someone inside that company."
My stomach twisted.
"You're guessing."
"Yes."
At least he admitted it.
"But if I'm right, your brother is exposed."
I hated him for making sense.
"I want police."
Vincent and Lorenzo exchanged a look.
That frightened me more than anything else.
"What?"
Lorenzo's voice lowered.
"We don't know who we can trust."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
I stared at him.
Then Vincent's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
"What?" Lorenzo asked.
Vincent slowly lowered the phone.
"The man outside Sutton's apartment wasn't alone."
My heart stopped.
"How do you know?"
"Our people reached the building."
"And Tommy?"
Vincent didn't answer immediately.
"Where is my brother?"
"They found his apartment door open."
I couldn't breathe.
"Where is he?"
"Mia—"
"WHERE IS HE?"
Lorenzo ripped the sensor from his finger and tried to rise.
The monitor alarmed.
Doctors rushed through the door.
Vincent stepped toward him.
"You can't get up."
"Find the boy."
"We are."
"Find him now."
I stood frozen while people moved around me.
My world had narrowed to one sentence.
The apartment door was open.
Tommy was gone.
May you like
And for the first time since Lorenzo Romano had opened his eyes, I understood something worse than being trapped inside his world.
His world had already reached mine.
