Chapter 2 - The Name She Buried
“I’m not getting into your car.”
Alessandro stood in Liam’s living room while I paced in front of him.
“Then take Liam’s.”
“No.”
“Call a taxi.”
“No.”
“Walk.”
“Stop.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re pregnant, someone may be watching this house, and you’re arguing about transportation.”
“I’m arguing about going anywhere with you.”
“Why?”
Because you’re a Vitali.
Because I lied about my name.
Because your world may be connected to the people who killed my parents.
Instead, I said, “Because I barely know you.”
Alessandro stared at me.
“You knew me well enough six weeks ago.”
Liam muttered, “Bad argument.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
“And yet I heard you.”
“Liam.”
He lifted his hands.
“Fine.”
Alessandro turned back to me.
“Come somewhere secure. One night. Tomorrow, if you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
I studied him.
Men like Alessandro didn’t need to raise their voices.
Power lived in the certainty that people usually obeyed them.
But he wasn’t ordering me.
Not quite.
“One night.”
He nodded.
“One.”
Twenty minutes later, Liam and I followed Alessandro’s sedan to a penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan.
I refused to leave Liam behind.
Alessandro didn’t argue.
The moment we entered, a gray-haired man approached.
“Mr. Vitali.”
“Marco, lock down the floor.”
Marco glanced at me.
“Problem?”
“Possibly.”
“What kind?”
Alessandro removed his coat.
“The kind I intend to understand before sunrise.”
Marco nodded and disappeared.
I whispered, “Who was following me?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“That wasn’t convincing.”
My stomach turned.
Alessandro noticed.
“Sit.”
“I’m not fragile.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re looking at me like I’m going to break.”
“No.”
His gaze dropped briefly toward my stomach.
“I’m looking at you like there are suddenly two people I’m responsible for.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
“You’re not responsible for me.”
“For the baby?”
I hesitated.
“That’s different.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Because I intend to be the father.”
I stared at him.
“You just found out.”
“I didn’t require six weeks to decide whether my child matters.”
Liam quietly walked toward the kitchen.
“I’m going to pretend I’m not here.”
Alessandro waited until he was gone.
“Now tell me why someone would follow you.”
“Nobody would.”
“Emma.”
“What?”
“I know when people lie.”
I nearly laughed.
“Apparently not.”
His eyes sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
Before I could answer, Marco returned carrying a tablet.
“We identified the vehicle.”
Alessandro turned.
“And?”
“Registered to a shell company.”
“Whose?”
Marco hesitated.
“Victor Sloane.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Alessandro noticed.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“I’ve heard it.”
“Where?”
“News.”
Marco looked between us.
Alessandro didn’t blink.
“You went pale before Marco finished saying it.”
I backed away.
“I’m tired.”
“Who is Victor Sloane to you?”
“Nobody.”
Alessandro moved closer.
“Why is he watching you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you at his gala?”
My head snapped up.
“What?”
“The Obsidian event.”
“It wasn’t his gala.”
“He was the principal donor.”
I hadn’t known Alessandro knew that.
He continued.
“You weren’t on the original catering roster. You volunteered forty-eight hours before the event.”
Fear crawled through me.
“You investigated me?”
“I tried to find you.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“It isn’t.”
Liam returned.
“That’s enough.”
Alessandro ignored him.
“What is your real name?”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Emma Hayes.”
“Try again.”
“Alessandro.”
“Who are you?”
Liam stepped beside me.
“She doesn’t owe you that.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Someone connected to Sloane followed her home while she is carrying my child. She absolutely owes me enough truth to keep her alive.”
I stared at him.
Then whispered, “Elizabeth.”
Silence.
“My name is Elizabeth Mercer.”
Alessandro’s face changed.
Marco went still.
“What?” I asked.
Alessandro looked at Marco.
Marco quietly said, “Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas Mercer’s daughter?”
My skin prickled.
“You knew my father?”
Marco looked toward Alessandro.
Alessandro answered.
“No.”
I knew immediately.
Another lie.
“You did.”
“Elizabeth—”
“You knew him.”
Alessandro exhaled.
“Not personally.”
“Then how?”
He walked toward a cabinet and removed an old file.
He placed it on the table.
My father’s name was printed across the front.
THOMAS MERCER.
My knees nearly gave out.
“What is that?”
Alessandro’s voice dropped.
“Something my father kept hidden for four years.”
I looked up.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas Mercer wasn’t investigating the Vitali family.”
He opened the file.
May you like
“He was working with them.”
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