Chapter 2: The Envelope Beneath My Floorboards
I had exactly three seconds to decide whether to show Dante Russo the message.
Three seconds to decide whether the man who could destroy my life was safer than the stranger who had threatened a five-year-old child.
“Grace.”” Dante's voice was calm.
“Your phone.””
Sophia stirred in my arms.
I turned the screen facedown.
“It's nothing, sir.””
Dante looked at me for a long moment.
Then he extended his hand.
“People who tell me it's nothing usually have something to hide.””
Victor made a strangled noise behind him.
“Mr. Russo, I'm certain Grace didn't mean—”
“Victor,” Dante interrupted, “if I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it.””
Victor immediately fell silent.
I hated the way everyone in the restaurant seemed to shrink around him. I hated the fear in their faces, the careful silence, the certainty that Dante Russo could do whatever he wanted and nobody would challenge him.
But Sophia's hand was curled around my collar.
She trusted me.
So I unlocked my phone and passed it across the table.
Dante read the message.
His expression didn't change.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
He enlarged the photograph, studying the reflection in the restaurant window behind me. Then he turned the phone toward Marco.
“Who took this?””
Marco examined it.
“The angle suggests someone near the front windows.””
“Find them.””
“Already checking, boss.””
Dante returned the phone to me.
“Did you receive anything else from this number?””
“No.””
“Do you know who sent it?””
“No.””
“Grace.””
He said my name with such precise emphasis that I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
I looked at Sophia.
Then I looked at the photograph of Isabella.
“I need to tell you something,” I whispered.
Dante leaned closer.
“Then tell me.””
“Not here.””
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Why?””
“Because whoever sent that message can see us.””
For the first time, something resembling alarm crossed his face.
He glanced toward the windows, then toward the entrance. Marco immediately moved between our booth and the rest of the restaurant.
Dante stood.
“Bring your coat.””
I stared at him.
“I'm working.””
“You're finished for tonight.””
“Mr. Russo, I can't just leave.””
He glanced toward Victor.
“She's finished.””
Victor nodded so rapidly that I thought his head might detach.
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.””
Dante turned back to me.
“Your apartment. We're going there.””
My mouth went dry.
The envelope was still beneath my floorboards.
The one Isabella had begged me to hide.
“Sir, I don't think that's a good idea.””
“Neither do I,” he replied.
“But someone just threatened my daughter while she was sitting three feet away from me. So we're going to have a conversation somewhere I can control.””
He lifted Sophia from my arms with surprising tenderness. She made a small protesting sound, then settled against his shoulder.
“Daddy?”” she murmured.
“I'm here, sweetheart.””
“Don't let them take Grace.””
Dante's jaw tightened.
“No one's taking Grace.””
I wasn't sure whether that was a promise or a warning.
Twenty-five minutes later, I sat in the back of a black SUV between Dante and a window darkened by rain. Sophia slept across his lap, one small hand gripping his tie.
Marco occupied the front passenger seat. Another vehicle followed us.
I stared at the wet streets sliding past.
“Does your wife know where I live?”” Dante asked.
The question caught me off guard.
“She came to my apartment three nights ago.””
His head turned slowly.
“You said you'd never met her.””
“I panicked.””
“Try again.””
I swallowed.
“She knocked on my door. She was frightened. Her sleeve was torn, and there was blood on it.””
“Was she injured?””
“I don't know. She said she didn't have much time.””
Dante looked down at Sophia.
“What did she tell you?””
“To hide something.””
“What?””
“An envelope.””
The muscles in his face tightened.
“Where is it?””
“Under the floorboards in my bedroom.””
“Did you open it?””
“No.””
“Did she tell you what was inside?””
I hesitated.
“She said that if anything happened to her, I should give it to someone who still remembered who you were before you became Dante Russo.””
Silence filled the vehicle.
Even Marco turned around.
Dante stared at me as if I had spoken a language he hadn't heard since childhood.
“Those were her exact words?””
“Yes.””
He looked out the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he asked, “How long did you know her?””
“Maybe ten minutes.””
“And you agreed to hide evidence for a woman you had never met?””
“She was scared.””
“People can use fear to manipulate you.””
“I know.””
“Then why did you help her?””
I glanced at Sophia.
“Because she kept looking over her shoulder as though she expected someone to drag her away. And because she asked me to protect her daughter.””
Dante's eyes hardened.
“What did she say about Sophia?””
“That she couldn't trust anyone who worked for you.””
The SUV seemed to grow smaller around us.
Marco turned forward again.
Dante's hand tightened around his daughter's tiny fingers.
“Did she name anyone?””
“No.””
“Did she mention a location?””
“No.””
“Did she tell you why she came to you?””
I shook my head.
“I barely had time to close the door before she left.””
That part was true.
What I hadn't told him was that Isabella had slipped a folded piece of paper into my hand before disappearing down the stairs.
I had read it after she left.
It contained a single sentence.
If Dante finds you, ask him what happened to his brother.
I had no idea what it meant.
But something in Isabella's eyes had convinced me that the answer could get someone killed.
The SUV stopped outside my apartment building.
Dante handed Sophia to Marco.
“Take her upstairs with us.””
Marco looked uncomfortable.
“Boss, perhaps she should stay in the vehicle.””
Dante's expression turned cold.
“Would you prefer to explain to me why you left my daughter alone in a car after someone threatened her life?””
“No, boss.””
“Then move.””
Inside my apartment, the air smelled faintly of coffee and laundry detergent. Dante looked around the cramped living room, taking in the secondhand couch, the chipped kitchen counter, and the stack of unpaid bills beside my microwave.
For one humiliating moment, I wondered what a man like him thought of my life.
Then I remembered that his daughter was asleep in my bedroom, and the thought disappeared.
“Where's the envelope?”” he asked.
I led him to the narrow hallway.
I knelt beside the loose floorboard near my bedroom door and pulled it up.
The envelope was gone.
I stared into the empty space.
“No,” I whispered.
Dante crouched beside me.
“Grace?””
I searched beneath the surrounding boards, my hands moving faster as panic rose in my chest.
“It was here. I swear it was here.””
“Step back.””
I moved aside.
Dante examined the floorboard, then touched the edge of the opening.
Someone had scratched the wood.
Fresh marks.
A thin line of dust crossed the floor, leading toward the window.
My apartment was on the third floor.
The window was locked from the inside.
Dante stood slowly.
“Who has a key to this apartment?””
“Only me.””
“Does anyone know you hid the envelope?””
“No.””
His gaze moved to the front door.
The deadbolt was still engaged.
Then a quiet voice came from the bedroom.
Sophia was awake.
“Daddy?””
Dante hurried to her.
“I'm here, sweetheart.””
She sat on my bed, clutching the edge of her cardigan.
“Bad man came.””
Dante went motionless.
“What bad man?””
Sophia looked at me.
Then she pointed toward the hallway.
“The man who took Mommy.””
A sound came from somewhere inside the wall.
Three slow knocks.
Dante drew his daughter against his chest.
Marco reached beneath his jacket.
May you like
And from the other side of my bedroom door, a man's voice whispered my name.
“Grace Bennett. We know you found the envelope.””
