Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Idrum my fingers against my desk, glancing at my watch for the third time in five minutes. The wait is killing me. Two weeks have passed since we went to Chicago.
"Pacing won't make the call come any faster," Alessio says from the chair across from me. "Riccardo is always punctual. If he said eleven, he'll call at eleven."
"I know. But this deal could change everything for us."
The Venetian Rose Casino would be the crown jewel of our legitimate operations. The perfect money laundering front, with the added bonus of being incredibly profitable on its own. The plans have been sitting in my desk drawer for months, waiting for the right partner.
My phone vibrates against the desk, and I snatch it up before the first ring finishes. "Riccardo," I answer, putting it on speaker.
"Damiano." His deep voice fills my office. "Right on time, as promised."
"I appreciate punctuality." I catch Alessio's knowing smirk and ignore it. "I take it you've had time to review the proposal?"
"I have, although it took us a while to walk through it. My brothers and I are in agreement – we're interested in moving forward with the casino venture." There's a rustle of papers on his end. "Equal investment, equal profit share. The location you've chosen in Manhattan is prime real estate."
Alessio and I exchange a look. This is going better than expected.
"I'm glad to hear it," I reply. "I think this partnership will benefit both our families greatly."
"There are a few details I'd like to discuss before we finalize anything," Riccardo continues. "Security protocols, staffing, management structure. The usual."
"Of course."
"I was thinking we could meet again, perhaps at the property itself? Ava is quite interested in the design aspects. She has an eye for these things."
"That can be arranged." I lean back in my chair. "The building is currently empty. We can walk through it, discuss the renovations needed."
"Excellent. I can fly to New York next month since I have some things to take care of first.?"
"Of course." I make a mental note that he takes his time for everything. "I'll have Alessio send over some preliminary renderings of what we're thinking for the space."
After we finalize the details and end the call, Alessio raises an eyebrow. "You look pleased."
"This is good business," I say, finishing my drink. "And the Sartoris are good allies to have."
I'm about to tell Alessio to start drawing up the formal contracts when the door to my office crashes open.
Enzo storms in, face twisted with fury, his normally controlled demeanor completely shattered.
His breathing is ragged, like he's sprinted across the compound, and there's a vein pulsing at his temple that I haven't seen since the Rivera situation last year.
"What the fuck is it?" I demand, immediately on alert.
Alessio's already on his feet, hand moving instinctively toward the gun beneath his jacket. The way Enzo burst in, it could only mean trouble—serious trouble.
Enzo slams a folder down on my desk, sending papers flying. "You need to see this. Now."
"Jesus Christ, Enzo," I growl, but when I meet his eyes, the words die in my throat. Whatever this is, it's bad.
His voice drops low, almost a whisper. "It's about Zoe."
FUCK ME.
I trail behind Lucrezia as she flits from one designer boutique to another, her enthusiasm for fashion a stark contrast to the turmoil in my mind.
The mall bustles with life around us, but I feel oddly detached from it all.
Even the ever-present guards, hovering just out of earshot, seem like part of another world.
"Zoe, look at this dress! Wouldn't it be perfect for the charity gala next month?" Lucrezia's voice pulls me back to the present.
I force a smile, nodding in agreement. "It's beautiful, Lucrezia. You should definitely try it on."
As she disappears into the fitting room, I sink onto a plush velvet ottoman, my mind racing. I need to talk to Lucrezia, to find out what she knows about Bianca and my father. But how can I broach such a sensitive topic without raising suspicion?
The guards shift positions, their watchful eyes a constant reminder of the delicate situation I'm in. This shopping trip, our little escape from the Feretti mansion, suddenly feels like a missed opportunity. Here, away from Damiano and the others, I might have a chance to get some answers.
Lucrezia emerges, twirling in the dress. "What do you think?"
I stand, adjusting the fabric on her shoulder. "It's stunning on you," I say, then hesitate. "Lucrezia, can I ask you something?"
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, curiosity flickering across her face. "Of course, what is it?"
I open my mouth, then close it again, the words sticking in my throat. How do I even begin?
"Actually, Damiano told me about Bianca," I say, watching Lucrezia's reflection carefully.
Her shoulders tense, and she turns to face me. "He did?"
"Yeah. He opened up about what happened to her." I sink back onto the ottoman, patting the space beside me. "I was hoping to hear your perspective on it all."
Lucrezia sits, smoothing her dress. "What exactly did he tell you?"
"That she was killed on Thanksgiving, twelve years ago. That Damiano killed the man responsible." I pause, studying her reaction. "He seemed different when he talked about it. More vulnerable than I've ever seen him."
"That was the worst day of our lives. Well, the worst after our parents death." Lucrezia's fingers twist in her lap. "Damiano was never the same after that. He shut down completely, wouldn't talk about it with anyone. Not even me or Enzo."
"So he never discussed the details with you?"
"No. I just know that Damiano killed that man. They don't tell me much you know." She shakes her head.
I reach for her hand, genuine sympathy mixing with my need for information. "I'm so sorry, Lucrezia. It must have been horrible."
"It was." She squeezes my hand. "But you know what's strange? You're the first person he's talked to about it since it happened. He must really trust you, Zoe."
Her words hit hard.
Trust.
The one thing I came here to betray.
As Lucrezia's words sink in, my mind races. The details align with what Damiano told me, but something still feels off. I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this story, something crucial I'm missing.
"Zoe? Are you okay?" Lucrezia's concerned voice breaks through my thoughts.
I blink, realizing I've been staring blankly at the mirror. "Oh, I'm fine," I stammer, trying to gather myself. "Just feeling a bit strange, that's all."
Lucrezia's brow furrows as she steps closer, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "Strange how? Do you need to sit down?"
I shake my head, forcing a smile. "No, no, it's nothing serious. I think I'm just tired from all the shopping. It'll pass."
But even as I reassure Lucrezia, I can't stop the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.
There's something going on here that's bigger than me, bigger than what I've been told.
The pieces don't quite fit together, and I can't help but feel like I'm being played in a game I don't fully understand.
My plan was to gather information either from Lucrezia, or Enzo.
Well, Enzo is not much of a talker and something holds me from making any discussion with him anyway.
Lucrezia's eyes search my face, concern evident in her expression. "Are you sure? We can head back to the house if you're not feeling well."
"Really, I'm okay," I insist, patting her hand. "Let's finish up here. I want to see you try on that blue dress we saw earlier."
As Lucrezia returns to the fitting room, I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. I need to be careful, to keep my suspicions hidden. But I also need answers, and I'm more determined than ever to uncover the truth, no matter where it leads me.
Lucrezia emerges from the fitting room, resplendent in the blue dress and I feel a genuine smile spread across my face. Despite the turmoil in my mind, I can't help but admire how the dress suits her and brings out the warmth in her eyes.
"Wow, Lucrezia," I say, "you look absolutely stunning. That color is perfect on you."
Lucrezia's face lights up at the compliment, her earlier concern seemingly forgotten. She twirls once, the dress flowing around her like water. Then, without warning, she rushes towards me and envelops me in a tight hug.
"Oh, Zoe," she says, her voice muffled against my shoulder, "thank you so much. Not just for the compliment, but for being in our lives. You've brought so much light to our family, especially to Damiano. I'm so grateful you're here."
As Lucrezia's words wash over me, I feel a crushing weight settle in my chest. My arms tighten around her reflexively, but inside, I'm crumbling. The guilt I've been trying to suppress comes rushing back with a vengeance.
Here's this sweet, innocent woman thanking me for being part of their family, when in reality, I came into their lives with the intention of destroying everything they hold dear. The warmth of Lucrezia's embrace feels like it's burning me, a stark reminder of my betrayal.
I struggle to maintain my composure, to keep my voice steady as I pat Lucrezia's back. "That's... that's so kind of you to say, Lucrezia. I'm glad to be here too."
And that's when it hits me.
I need to talk to Damiano.
I can't stay any longer not knowing what the hell happened that night.
Even if it means that it will get me killed.
After Lucrezia's unexpected hug, we finish our shopping in a daze. I barely register the dresses she buys or the shoes I somehow end up purchasing.
The drive back to the Feretti mansion passes in relative silence.
Lucrezia chatters about redecorating her wing with the new fabrics we found, but I only half-listen, nodding at appropriate intervals.
The guards flank our car like always, ever-present shadows ensuring our safety—or perhaps my captivity.
When we pull into the circular driveway, I notice Daniel standing at the entrance, his military posture rigid even as he holds the door for us. His face gives nothing away, but something in his stance makes my stomach drop.
"Welcome back, Ms. Lucrezia, Mrs. Feretti," he says, his voice professional as always.
Lucrezia bounces past him with her shopping bags. "Thanks, Daniel! We found the most amazing things today."
But Daniel's eyes lock on mine, and I know something's wrong. "Mrs. Feretti, Don Feretti requests your presence in his office immediately."
Lucrezia turns back, a curious expression on her face. "Oh? Did something happen?"
"Family business," Daniel says, which is code for "not your concern." His gaze never leaves my face. "He was quite insistent, Mrs. Feretti."
My heart pounds so hard I'm certain Daniel can hear it. "I'll go right away."
As I hand my shopping bags to a waiting staff member, Lucrezia squeezes my arm. "Don't worry, it's probably just about the contracts for Chicago. You know how he gets with business stuff."
I force a smile. "You're probably right."
But we both know she isn't.
I walk through the mansion's grand hallway, my heels clicking against the marble floor like a countdown. Daniel follows a few paces behind—escort or guard, I'm no longer sure.
Outside Damiano's office door, I pause. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe them on my dress. Taking a deep breath, I raise my hand to knock, but hesitate.
What awaits me behind this door? Has he discovered my mission? Has Byron betrayed me? Or is it something else entirely?
Daniel stands at attention several feet away, giving me space but making it clear I'm not going anywhere else.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to still the trembling in my hands. Part of me wants to run, to flee this mansion and never look back. But there's nowhere to go. I'm in too deep now.
My mind races through possible scenarios, rehearsing explanations and excuses. But the truth is, I don't know what Damiano knows, and that terrifies me more than anything.
I raise my hand again, knuckles hovering inches from the heavy wooden door.