Chapter Nineteen #2
“A surrender he can survive.”
“Why do we care whether he survives?”
“Because men like Mikhailov would rather burn everything than be seen losing.”
“Then let him burn.”
“Not while Lucia is in the house.”
Gio looks away.
Mikhailov doesn’t need to win.
He needs to appear as if whatever happens was his decision.
My eyes return to the report.
An engagement before the trust transfers.
A husband Viktor selects would give him another means of controlling Lucia and the Rossi assets. The marriage would remove her from his household without forcing him to admit he lost her.
It would look like an alliance.
A settlement rather than a surrender.
The idea arrives slowly.
Then all at once.
“What?” Gio asks.
I look up.
He knows my face.
“What did you just think of?”
“Mikhailov wants to choose her husband.”
“We know.”
“He needs money, and he needs a way out of this without appearing weak.”
Gio’s expression changes.
“No.”
I haven’t said it yet.
I don’t need to.
“Marco.”
“A marriage gives him a face-saving surrender.”
“You think he’ll let you marry her.”
“I think he’ll bring her somewhere neutral if the offer is large enough.”
“And then?”
“She decides.”
Gio laughs without humor.
“That would be new.”
I accept the blow.
“I negotiate the opportunity. Nothing more.”
“You think she’ll agree after what you did?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“It gets her out of Mikhailov’s house long enough to put the decision in front of her.”
“And if she refuses?”
“She leaves with Viktor.”
The words are difficult to say.
Gio stares at me.
“You’d let him take her back?”
“It has to be a real choice.”
“After you made sure the other option was Viktor?”
“It’s the only door I can open.”
“That doesn’t make it a good one.”
“No.”
His frustration breaks through.
“She hates you.”
“She has every right to.”
“And you still think she might marry you?”
“I think she deserves the chance to refuse me to my face.”
The room falls quiet.
Gio loves her.
I’ve known it for weeks.
He knows I love her too.
Neither of us has said what that means.
Perhaps nothing.
Lucia may never willingly sit at the same table with me again.
Marriage doesn’t repair betrayal. It doesn’t restore trust or erase the sound of her begging me not to leave her at Mikhailov’s door.
It only creates an exit.
Whether she takes it must be hers to decide.
“What do you need from me?” Gio asks.
“Antonov.”
His eyes harden.
“Alive?”
“For now.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Find out what Mikhailov promised him. Then offer something better.”
“And if there’s nothing he wants more than Lucia?”
“There is.”
“How do you know?”
“Men like Antonov always have a price.”
Gio heads toward the door.
“Gio.”
He stops.
“I’m sorry.”
His back remains to me.
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
He stands there for several seconds.
Then he leaves without answering.
By morning, we own another of Mikhailov's debts.
By noon, the Albanian contract is ours.
At three, Sergei Antonov learns that the financing for his Montenegrin resort has been withdrawn.
At four fifteen, he calls Gio.
At five, Viktor Mikhailov calls me.
I let the phone ring three times before answering.
“Catenzio.”
“You’ve been busy,” he says.
“So have you.”
“I assume this concerns Lucia.”
“Everything concerns Lucia.”
Silence stretches across the line.
“What do you want?”
I look at the marriage agreement Grace has placed on my desk.
The line for Lucia’s signature remains blank.
“A meeting.”
“We have nothing to discuss.”
“You’re arranging a marriage.”
His voice cools.
“My niece’s future is none of your concern.”
“You haven’t heard my offer.”
“I don’t need to.”
“Six million dollars. Forgiveness of every note held by Orchard Street. Restoration of two shipping contracts.”
Mikhailov goes silent.
“You control Orchard Street.”
“I do.”
“What do you want in return?”
I look at the unsigned agreement on my desk.
“Lucia leaves your house as my wife.”
Silence fills the line.
Finally, Mikhailov laughs.
“You think she’ll marry you?”
“No.”
“Then you’re wasting my time.”
“Possibly. But you can survive accepting my offer.”
“And if I refuse?”
“By the end of the week, you won’t own a warehouse in Massachusetts.”
His breathing changes.
“You’re attempting to purchase my niece.”
“I’m purchasing your absence from her life.”
“The distinction seems convenient.”
“The Rossi trust remains solely hers. You receive six million dollars, forgiveness of every note held by Orchard Street, and restoration of two shipping contracts.”
“Then increase the cash.”
“No.”
“You’re in no position—“
“Neither are you. Those are the terms.”
“And if Lucia refuses?”
“The agreement is void.”
“You would allow her to refuse?”
“It isn’t a marriage if she can’t.”
“Men arrange marriages every day.”
“Not this man.”
He considers that.
“She won’t agree.”
“Then you have nothing to lose by bringing her.”
“Where?”
“Saint Cecilia’s. Tomorrow night at ten.”
“A church?”
“Father Russo will perform the ceremony if Lucia consents.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She returns with you.”
The words nearly choke me.
He hears the hesitation.
“You’re prepared to watch her walk back into my house?”
“No.”
“Then perhaps this choice of yours is less genuine than you pretend.”
I look at the security monitor.
Lucia’s sweater remains visible through the conservatory glass.
“I negotiated the opportunity,” I say. “The decision belongs to her.”
“You’ve become sentimental.”
“So you’ve mentioned.”
“And remarkably arrogant.”
“Tomorrow. Ten o’clock.”
A long silence follows.
Then—
“I’ll bring her.”
The call ends.
I set down the phone.
Tomorrow, I’ll return to the church where Lucia sought safety the night she escaped.
This time, I’ll offer her the only door I’ve been able to open.
I only hope she doesn’t choose the cage.