“Why were you looking for her?”
Another pause.
Then Dante said, “Because she was the last person to see my younger brother alive.”
My breath caught.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
The word landed heavily.
“What happened?”
“Six years ago, Adrian Valenti disappeared.”
I swallowed.
“And you think my mother knows why?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the window.
Chicago glittered beneath the afternoon sun.
A beautiful city.
A dangerous city.
A city full of people who could vanish without leaving anything behind.
“Then we need to find her.”
Dante’s voice changed.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“Nora, this isn’t something you should involve yourself in.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My dead mother just walked into your nightclub, Dante. I think I’m already involved.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Fair point.”
***
That afternoon, Cameron appeared on television.
A local news station showed him standing outside a police precinct.
He looked exhausted.
Worried.
Devastated.
“My girlfriend is missing,” he told the cameras. “She’s been struggling emotionally. I’m concerned someone may be taking advantage of her.”
My blood went cold.
He held up a photograph of me.
A photograph taken at Christmas.
I was smiling.
His arm was around my shoulders.
“We just want Nora home.”
I stared at the screen.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered before I could think.
“Nora.”
Cameron’s voice.
Warm.
Gentle.
Familiar.
“Sweetheart.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“How did you get this number?”
He ignored the question.
“You’re frightening everyone.”
I looked toward the door.
“I’m not coming back.”
A soft sigh.
“You’re confused.”
“No.”
“Nora, please.”
His voice lowered.
“You don’t understand what you’ve walked into.”
My fingers trembled.
“What does that mean?”
A pause.
Then Cameron said something that stopped my heart.
“Your mother should have stayed dead.”
The line disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Then ran for the door.
Because suddenly I understood.
Cameron hadn’t found me at Saint by accident.
And my mother hadn’t disappeared from my life by accident either.
Someone had arranged both.
And I was standing in the middle of it.
Dante arrived at the hotel twenty minutes after I called.
He entered wearing a dark gray suit, his black hair still damp from the rain.
Gabriel followed.
I showed them the call log.
Then repeated Cameron’s words.
“Your mother should have stayed dead.”
Dante’s expression didn’t change.
But Gabriel went very still.
“That’s a threat,” Gabriel said.
“I know.”
Dante looked at me.
“Would you be willing to make a police report?”
I hesitated.
“Cameron’s father knows half the police department.”
“Then we’ll arrange for someone outside his circle.”
I stared at him.
“You believe me?”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
The word was so simple that it hurt.
***
Two hours later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Dante’s armored SUV.
I had agreed to move somewhere Cameron couldn’t easily locate me.
Not because Dante ordered me.
Because a hotel with my name on the registration was no longer safe.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My house.”
I turned sharply.
“Absolutely not.”
Dante glanced at me.
“You’d prefer somewhere else?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
He waited.
Finally, I sighed.
“I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Ask reasonable questions when I’m trying to be difficult.”
His mouth twitched.
“Noted.”
***
The Valenti estate stood north of the city, surrounded by trees and high stone walls.
It looked less like a mansion and more like a European palace that had somehow landed in Illinois.
White limestone.
Tall windows.
A fountain shaped like a pair of swans.
And enough security cameras to make me reconsider every bad decision I’d ever made.
Inside, the house was surprisingly warm.
Cream-colored walls.
Gold-framed paintings.
Fresh flowers.
Sunlight pouring through enormous windows.
A woman with silver hair approached us.
“Dante.”
He kissed her cheek.
“Lucia.”
She looked at me.
Then smiled.
“You must be Nora.”
I nodded.
“Hello.”
“I’m Lucia Bellini. I run this house.”
I glanced at Dante.
“Does everyone in your life run something?”
Lucia laughed.
Dante looked unimpressed.
“Apparently.”
She took my coat.
“Come, sweetheart. I’ll show you your room.”
***
My bedroom overlooked a garden full of pale pink roses.
There was a fireplace, a reading chair, and a balcony.
I stood in the center of the room.
“It’s too much.”
Lucia smiled.
“Then use only the parts you like.”
I looked at her.
“You’re very practical.”
“I raised three sons.”
“That explains it.”
She laughed.
Then lowered her voice.
“Dante isn’t always easy.”
I glanced toward the door.
“I noticed.”
“But he keeps his promises.”
I wanted to believe her.
I really did.
***
At dinner, I met Matteo’s younger sister, Sofia.
She was twenty-four, a law student with dark curls and a talent for speaking before thinking.
