Chapter 2 - The House That Wouldn’t Let Her Leave
At 2:13 the next morning, Lena discovered that someone had entered her bedroom.
She knew because the closet door was open.
Lena never left doors open.
Professional kitchens trained strange habits into people.
You closed refrigerators immediately.
You returned knives to the same position.
You wiped surfaces as you worked.
And Lena closed doors.
Always.
She stood motionless in the hallway.
The bedroom beyond looked ordinary.
Bed.
Nightstand.
Chair.
Small writing desk.
Moonlight across the carpet.
Nothing moved.
Still, every instinct told her not to enter.
She backed away.
A voice came from behind her.
“Something wrong?”
Lena nearly jumped.
Dominic stood at the far end of the corridor.
No jacket.
Black shirt.
Dark trousers.
He looked as though sleep was something other people required.
“Someone was in my room.”
His entire expression changed.
Not dramatically.
That was what made it frightening.
“Stay here.”
He walked past her.
Entered the bedroom.
Checked the bathroom.
Closet.
Window.
Under the bed.
Then he came back.
“What’s missing?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said someone entered.”
“My closet was open.”
Dominic looked at the closet.
“That’s it?”
“I close doors.”
Something in her tone convinced him.
He pulled out his phone.
“Raphael.”
Less than two minutes later, Raphael appeared.
Security footage was checked.
At 1:47 a.m., the camera covering Lena’s hallway had gone black for four minutes.
Dominic became very still.
“Who has access?”
“Five people.”
“Names.”
Raphael hesitated.
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“Now.”
Raphael listed them.
Himself.
Dominic.
Two senior security officers.
And Marco Fieri.
Lena said nothing.
She thought about the photograph hidden beneath her mattress.
Dominic noticed her silence.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“I’m an excellent liar.”
“Then you're choosing to be bad at it.”
Despite herself, Lena almost smiled.
Almost.
Dominic sent Raphael away to investigate.
Then he looked at her.
“You shouldn't stay here tonight.”
“Where should I stay?”
“My room.”
Lena stared.
Dominic realized how that sounded.
His expression actually shifted.
“I'll sleep in the study.”
“No.”
“Lena—”
“I am not moving into the bedroom of a man whose organization apparently thinks I’m collateral.”
“My organization does not think that.”
“Marco does.”
Dominic went silent.
That told her enough.
“Who is Marco to you?”
“Family without blood.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
“Does he work for you?”
“Yes.”
“Does he obey you?”
Dominic paused.
“Usually.”
Lena crossed her arms.
“That's comforting.”
He looked toward her room.
“You shouldn't sleep alone.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Dominic sighed.
“I continue phrasing this badly.”
For the first time since learning the truth, Lena laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Dominic looked at her.
And something changed.
Not in him alone.
Between them.
For one dangerous second, he was not Dominic Moretti.
Not the man guards feared.
Not the man connected to her father's debt.
He was simply a tired man standing in a hallway at two in the morning trying unsuccessfully to protect a woman who refused to cooperate.
Then Lena remembered who he was.
“I'll stay in the kitchen.”
Dominic blinked.
“The kitchen.”
“Yes.”
“You're going to sleep in my kitchen?”
“There’s a couch in the staff office.”
“That couch is terrible.”
“You've slept on it?”
“No.”
“Then your opinion is irrelevant.”
Dominic stared.
Then, unbelievably, smiled.
“Fine.”
They walked downstairs together.
Lena did not sleep.
Instead, she made coffee.
Dominic remained.
At three in the morning, they sat opposite each other at the marble island.
No guards.
No Marco.
No audience.
Lena finally removed the photograph.
Dominic looked at it.
His face changed immediately.
“You recognize them.”
“Yes.”
“Who is the man beside my mother?”
Dominic did not answer.
“Dominic.”
“My father.”
Lena looked at the photograph again.
Vittorio Moretti.
She knew the name.
Everyone did.
He had died eight years earlier.
“What does the message mean?”
Dominic read the words on the back.
The debt began with Sofia.
“I don't know.”
She watched him carefully.
“You’re telling the truth.”
“Yes.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“It often is.”
Lena turned the photograph over.
“My father asked about my mother's recipe notebook three months ago.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Why?”
“I thought he was being sentimental.”
“Where is it?”
“Storage.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
Dominic stood.
“We'll go in the morning.”
“We?”
“You think I'm letting you walk into a storage facility after someone searched your room?”
“I thought I wasn't a prisoner.”
“You’re not.”
“Then stop saying ‘letting.’”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
“Will you please allow me to accompany you?”
“Better.”
At nine the next morning, they left.
No one stopped Lena.
That mattered.
Dominic could have surrounded her with guards.
Instead, only Raphael drove.
The storage facility was nearly empty.
Lena found unit 318.
The lock was broken.
Her stomach dropped.
Dominic moved in front of her.
The unit had been searched.
Boxes torn open.
Furniture moved.
Old photographs scattered.
Lena rushed inside.
“My mother's things.”
She found the box.
Empty.
The notebook was gone.
She stared at it.
Then saw something underneath.
An envelope.
Her name was written across it.
LENA.
Her mother's handwriting.
Her hands began trembling.
She opened it.
Inside was a single sheet.
Lena read silently.
Then again.
Dominic watched her face.
“What does it say?”
Lena handed him the paper.
Sofia had written:
If anything happens to me, Gianni must never give them the notebook.
Dominic looked up.
“Give who?”
Lena pointed toward the final line.
Three words.
Not the Morettis.
Dominic went completely still.
May you like
And Lena realized the person her mother had feared belonged to Dominic’s family.
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