Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty Seven
Antonio
The drive back is a blur of turns and glass and my own pulse thudding in my ears.
Elsa sits beside me in the back seat like her body made it out, but her mind is still in that hallway. She hasn’t said much since we left Northstar.
She’s not shaking now, but I keep my arm around her anyway. I can feel the tension in her muscles through the fabric of her skirt when the SUV hits a pothole and she flinches. I take out the comms in my ear that kept me connected to Vito while we were making our way out.
Vito sits in the passenger seat, half-turned, eyes flicking between the mirrors and the street. The driver’s focus never wavers. We’ve already switched cars once, then merged back into traffic as if nothing happened.
New York City disappears behind us, and I don’t let myself look back.
I look down at Elsa’s hands instead. They’re folded in her lap, fingers laced too tight. Her knuckles are pale. There’s a faint red mark on the inside of her wrist where I grabbed her and hauled her into that office.
Guilt flashes.
I tighten my jaw and breathe through it.
“Elsa,” I murmur, low so only she can hear. “Look at me.”
Her eyes lift slowly. They’re clear. Almost too clear. Like she’s in that post-adrenaline space where your body has no more blood to spend on panic, so your brain goes sharp and cold. I know that feeling well.
“You hurt?” I ask.
She swallows. “No.”
“Any dizziness?”
She blinks once. “I feel a little queasy, but it’s not too bad.”
I study her face. The lipstick she wore this morning is gone, eaten by fear and biting her own mouth. There’s a faint smear of mascara under one eye. It makes her look vulnerable in a way that twists something in my chest.
“It’s normal. It’ll pass,” I say and use my thumb to clean it off.
She nods and swallows. “They—” Her voice catches. She clears her throat. “They were going to…”
I don’t let her finish it. Not because she can’t handle it. But because I can’t.
“Don’t do that,” I say. “They didn’t.”
Her head turns. Her gaze lands on me like she’s trying to decide what I am—man, monster, miracle, mistake.
“Where are we going?” she asks quietly.
“My place,” I answer. “New Jersey.”
Her brows knit. “Your… place?”
“Yes.”
Silence again. But it’s different now. Less shock. More calculation. Elsa’s brain doesn’t stop just because she’s terrified. At least not for long.
“Is it safe?” she asks.
“We own the building,” I say. “Security is ours. Plus, one of my brothers and Vito live close by as well.” I nod to the man in the passenger seat.
Elsa turns to look at him. “You’re… Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry.”
Vito glances back over his shoulder then. “Don’t worry about it.”
After that, the ride is silent once again.
We pull off the highway and into a stretch of streets that lead to a stretch of buildings running along the Boardwalk.
The SUV turns into the garage entrance of one of the buildings.
The driver punches in a code, and the gate rises. We drive through and around to a second, private entrance. Another code, more security. This gate, more secure than the first, rises as well.
My hand stays on Elsa’s waist as the car rolls to a stop. I feel her inhale slowly. She’s frightened, but she’s dealing with it.
I respect the hell out of her for it.
Vito is out first, scanning the corners, the pillars, the stairwell. He’s quick and precise. I step out as well and do my own scan while the driver, named Angelo, makes a round through the private parking area.
I walk to Elsa’s door and open it, keeping her tucked close, one hand at her lower back, guiding her. She moves automatically, letting me lead.
“Eyes up,” I murmur. “Don’t stare at the floor. You look like prey when you do.”
Her chin lifts instantly. She squares her shoulders and walks at my rushed pace, even in heels that weren’t built for running from men with guns.
Vito’s gaze flicks to her and away. Respect. It’s one of the things I like about him. He sees a woman and doesn’t treat her like an object. He treats her like a person.
We move fast to the private elevator. The garage is quiet, but it’s no time to relax. Not just yet.
I key us in. The doors slide open. We step inside.
Elsa’s breath hitches when the doors close.
I press the button for my floor. Then I turn my body toward her.
“You okay?” I ask, softer.
Her gaze moves to my face. “I don’t know what I am.”
I reach up and touch her hair, gently, because I need to, for myself. “You’re here,” I say. “That’s enough right now.”
Her throat works. She nods once.
The elevator opens into a hallway, but not the one that leads to my apartment.
We head down the hall and around the corner to another set of elevators. This is the one that leads to our floor. I key in my personal code, and the elevator moves.
The doors open to a hallway that is clean and quiet. Cameras are set high in the corners, every angle covered and overlapped.
I unlock the door to my apartment, pull it open, and usher her inside.
Elsa steps in and stops dead. She’s still standing now, but I know it won’t be long until all of this hits her, and she’ll have to process it however her mind and body need to.
I need to be here for her, but I have to take care of a couple of things first.
I close the door behind us and step to her.
Her hair is slightly mussed from the ceiling crawl. Her face is pale even under the dim lights of the entrance hall.
“Elsa,” I say. “I just need a minute, all right? I need to talk to Vito, and I’ll be right back.”
Her gaze snaps to me. “Antonio—”
“Just one minute, dolcezza,” I say quickly, because the fear in her voice slices through me. “I'll be right outside the door. I promise.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue. Then she nods.
I step back out and pull the door closed behind me, leaving it on the latch, not fully locked.
Vito is in the hallway, leaning against the wall. My nephew is a lot younger than I am, by a lot. Broad shoulders, sharp eyes, and an aura of danger and violence that seems to surround him.
“You good?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say.
He snorts. “Not what I meant.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You heard what those fuckers in the hallway said. Elsa’s not exactly used to hearing people talk about wanting her dead because she’s not useful anymore.” My voice shakes with rage at the way she was trembling in my arms.
Vito’s jaw tightens.
“And right on the tail of that,” I say, “she’s being shot at.”
“Lot of firsts for her today,” he says.
“And lasts,” I say definitively.
He nods once.
“Tell me what you have,” I say.
“Four confirmed inside Northstar,” he replies. “Two outside. Plus another in a vehicle posted half a block out—spotter. We took care of him before you came out. We lost one after you got into the ceiling, but we’ve got eyes on exits now. Vanni’s team is on the other three.”
“And Bellandi?” I ask.
Vito’s eyes narrow. “Emilio is in Chicago still, but he’s directing.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. It irritates me. If you’re going to have someone killed, at least have the damn decency to oversee it yourself.
I hold Vito’s gaze. “Any chance they tracked her from the building to here?”
“No,” he says immediately. “We scrubbed. Two car swaps. Different routes. No tails. I watched it myself.”
I nod. “They might figure it out, though. I heard them talking about us, too, in that hallway. ‘Cunti.’”
Vito snorts. “Clever. Never heard that one before.”
“Right,” I say. “But that means they know we’re involved and that we have Elsa. They might track her here.”
“They shouldn’t, but we’ll take care of it if they do.”
I exhale through my nose and force my brain into the next steps.
“I want extra coverage,” I say. “Garage, elevator bank, and the street.”
“Already happening,” Vito replies. “Two outside. One in the building with the super. Cameras are on a separate feed.”
I nod once. Then I add, quieter, “No one comes to this door without my say.”
Vito’s expression shifts as he considers me.
“You’re serious about her,” he says.
I don’t answer right away. Because saying it out loud makes it real in a way that isn’t strategic. In a way that can be used.
“Something wrong with that?” I narrow my eyes.
“Not a thing.” Vito’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “She’s hot.”
“I know,” I say. “And mine.”
He laughs. “Just an observation.”
“Get out,” I mutter.
He laughs under his breath. Then his face goes serious again. “I’m going to check in with Gio.” He nods at the other apartment door across the hall. “Then make a round. I’ll be nearby.”
I nod, then pause, because there’s one more thing I need.
“Vito,” I say, and my voice hardens. “If they come anywhere near here—"
His eyes go flint. “I know.”
Good.
I turn back to the door and step inside.
The apartment is quiet.
Elsa is exactly where I left her, standing in the entryway like her feet forgot how to move. But now she’s turned slightly, looking around with that lost expression she never wears in a boardroom. Like she’s searching for a script and realizing she doesn’t have one.
My chest tightens.
I close the door and lock it fully this time.
Elsa’s head turns.
“I didn’t think to thank him before,” she says, voice thin.
I step to her and wrap my arms around her. “He knows. Don’t worry.”
She holds on and rests her head on my chest.
“I don’t know what to do,” she admits, and the words look like they cost her. Like saying them is worse than crawling through a ceiling.
“You don’t have to do anything right now,” I tell her. “You made it out. That’s the only job.”
She looks up at me. “And everyone else?”
“They’re being handled,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “They were never the target.”
“Are you sure they won’t try anyway? What about my family? Are my parents safe?”
“You said they’re out of the country, right?”
“Yeah. My mom is doing some event in Italy, and then they’re going to Sweden to visit family.”
“Bellandi’s influence doesn’t go that far. He can’t even reach New England in this country.” I hold her closer and press my lips to her forehead. “But if it makes you feel better, we have family in Italy. I’ll make a couple of calls and have them checked on.”
“It would make me feel better,” she says quietly.
“Then it’s done.”
She puts her head back on my chest, and I know she’s fighting tears she doesn’t want me to see.
“Elsa.”
“This is my fault,” she says, her voice thick.
“No,” I say immediately.
“It is,” she insists, and there’s anger in it now, anger at herself because it’s easier than fear. “If I’d just—if I hadn’t—if I’d taken Bellandi seriously—”
“Stop,” I say, firmer, tightening my arms around her. “This is not on you. This is on them. This isn’t just pressure or blackmail or even threats. This is just malice. Their acquisition was rejected—it’s a done deal—and this is how they respond to it.”
Her breath shakes.
“I feel…” She swallows. “Stupid.”
That breaks something in me.
“You’re not stupid,” I murmur into her hair. “You’re brave.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt.
“I hate this,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say. “I do too.”
She exhales, and it’s shaky. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
Her voice is smaller now. “Antonio, I don’t want to bring any danger back to your family like this. You said your brother lives here, and he has a wife and child.”
I tug her hair to tilt her face up to mine. “Elsa, stop. We have it handled. They’re safe. You’re safe. No one is getting to you or anyone else. I promise.”
I press my lips to hers. “I promise,” I repeat.
“And what about after?” she murmurs. “You can’t keep me under protection forever. I have to go back to work sometime.” She sighs. “If I still have a job after this.”
“I’ll make sure you’re safe then too, and you will have a job after this,” I reassure her.
“Really? Because I’m sleeping with my first choice for the acquisition, and I don’t think the board is going to be convinced that it’s because I think you guys look good on paper.”
Her words slice me to the core.
“You’re not going to lose your career because you fell for me,” I say firmly. “I won’t let that be the price.”
Her eyes flicker. “Antonio—”
“Listen.” I take her face in my hands. “Northstar can put an ethics wall around you. Recuse you from the recommendation. Assign an independent lead. Bring in outside counsel. There are a dozen clean ways to handle this, and we’ll pick the one that protects you.”
Her throat works. “And the deal?”
“If the deal is worth doing, it survives scrutiny,” I say. “If it can’t, then it shouldn’t happen.”
“Okay? And what happens after that?” she says. “My job is in New York. You aren’t.”
She says the last two words quietly.
I press my forehead to hers.
“You once told me you wouldn’t give your job up for a man,” I say.
“It was diff—”
“Elsa,” I say. “If you need to be in New York… then that’s where I’ll be.”
She wraps her fingers around my wrists. “Antonio, your family is here.”
“My family is wherever I am,” I say quietly.
Her fingers tighten on my wrists. “Don’t say that like it’s simple.”
“It isn’t simple,” I admit. “But it is clear.”
Her eyes glisten, frustration and fear braided together. “You can’t just pick up and—”
“I can,” I cut in, not harsh, just certain. “I’m not Luca. I’m not the don. I’m not the one holding the whole structure on my shoulders.”
She inhales like she wants to argue again, and I beat her to it.
“I can work from New York,” I say. “I can be there without abandoning them. And if they need me, I get on a train, a car, a plane—whatever it takes. But I’m not asking you to shrink your life to fit mine.”
I brush my thumb over her cheekbone, catching the tremor in her.
“I’m telling you,” I murmur, “I’ll expand mine to fit you.”