Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
M y phone buzzes like an angry hornet against the nightstand. I grab it before it wakes Evelyn, who's curled against my chest, her breath warm on my skin.
"What?" I growl into the phone, voice low.
"We can't find her." Matteo's voice is tight, urgent.
I sit up immediately, every muscle tensing. "What do you mean you can't find her?"
"Jessica. She's gone, Noah. We went to the address you gave Damiano. Place was empty. Her phone's dead—going straight to voicemail."
"Fuck." The word escapes through clenched teeth as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "How long has she been missing?"
"Hard to say. Neighbors saw her yesterday morning. Nothing since."
My movement stirs Evelyn. She blinks awake, her hair spilling across the pillow as she watches me with half-lidded eyes. The sight would normally distract me, but not now.
"Keep looking. Check security cameras, traffic cams, everything. I will reach her workplace."
I end the call and stand, grabbing my pants from the floor.
"Noah?" Evelyn's voice is soft with sleep. "What's wrong?"
When I turn to face her, the words stick in my throat. Her eyes widen as she reads my expression and I watch fear bloom across her face like spilled ink.
"It's Jessica, isn't it?" She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Something's happened to her."
I nod once. "We can't find her."
Terror transforms her features. The soft, willing woman from last night vanishes, replaced by raw panic.
"What do you mean you can't find her?" Her voice rises sharply.
"I gave Damiano her address and phone number. I've seen you go to her place before." I pull on my shirt. "They went there. She's not home and her phone is dead."
Evelyn scrambles out of bed, grabbing clothes frantically. "This is my fault. This is all my fault."
"We don't know that Ivan has her," I say, but the words sound hollow even to me.
"Don't lie to me!" She whirls on me, eyes wild. "We both know exactly who has her."
She's right. Ivan's deadline is still two days away but he's already making his next move. Using Jessica as leverage is exactly his style.
"Get dressed," I tell her. "We need to move."
Evelyn's hands shake as she pulls on her clothes. I've seen her defiant, seductive, even afraid—but this is different. This is pure terror, the kind that strips away everything else.
"If he hurts her..." She can't finish the sentence.
I cross the room and grip her shoulders. "I will find her, Evelyn. I promise you that."
Her eyes meet mine, desperate for something to believe in.
"How?"
I don't answer Evelyn's question. What can I say? That I'll tear the city apart? That I'll kill anyone who stands between us and her sister? Words mean nothing right now. Only action matters.
She watches me, waiting for something I can't give her. After a moment, she turns away and finishes dressing in silence, movements sharp with urgency.
I grab my gun from the nightstand drawer, checking the magazine before tucking it into my waistband. My knife goes into my boot. The weight of both is familiar, comforting in a way nothing else is.
"Let's go," I say, leading her out of the bedroom.
We move through the apartment in tense silence. The air between us has changed—no longer charged with desire but with fear and determination. The woman who played violin naked for me last night is gone. In her place stands someone ready to burn the world down to save her sister.
I can respect that.
The elevator takes us to the underground garage. I scan the space instinctively, checking for threats before guiding Evelyn forward with my hand at the small of her back.
"Which one?" she asks, looking at the row of vehicles.
I point to the black Audi with tinted windows. "That one. No one will see you inside."
She nods once, accepting this without argument. The fight has gone out of her, replaced by something more dangerous—resolve.
I unlock the car and open her door. As she slides in I pull out my phone and dial Damiano.
"We're on our way," I tell him when he answers. "Ivan's taken Jessica."
"You're bringing her here?" Damiano sounds surprised.
"I can't leave her alone and I can't sit around doing nothing while Ivan has her sister." I close my door and start the engine.
There's a pause on the line. I know what he's thinking—bringing Evelyn to the Feretti mansion is a risk.
"Fine," Damiano says finally. "I'll have security ready. Come through the east entrance."
"We'll be there in twenty."
I end the call and pull out of the garage, the Audi's engine purring beneath us. Beside me Evelyn stares straight ahead, her knuckles bloodless where she grips the door handle.
I guide the Audi through the wrought iron gates of the Feretti estate, tension radiating from Evelyn beside me. Her fingers haven't stopped moving since we left the apartment—twisting, tapping, a physical manifestation of her anxiety.
"We're here," I say, pulling up to the east entrance as instructed.
Evelyn stares at the mansion through the tinted windows.
Two guards approach as we exit the car. They nod at me, eyes lingering curiously on Evelyn before escorting us inside. The mansion's marble foyer gleams under crystal chandeliers, wealth and power etched into every surface.
"Noah?"
Lucrezia Feretti appears at the top of the grand staircase, her petite frame draped in a designer dress that can't hide the new hardness in her eyes. She descends quickly, studying Evelyn with open interest.
"Lucrezia." I incline my head slightly.
She reaches us, extending a hand to Evelyn. "You must be Evelyn Anderson. I've heard you perform. You're brilliant."
Evelyn takes her hand automatically, social training kicking in despite her distress. "Thank you."
Lucrezia turns to me, her expression shifting to something more serious. "Damiano's in his office with Enzo. They're waiting for you."
I glance at Evelyn, reluctant to leave her alone but knowing I need to speak with Damiano immediately.
"Lucrezia, can you keep Evelyn company while I talk to your brother?"
Lucrezia's smile is quick, almost predatory. "Of course. We'll have tea in the solarium."
I look at Evelyn, catching the flash of panic in her eyes at being separated from me. It's ironic—days ago she was desperate to escape me and now I'm her only constant in a world spinning out of control.
"I won't be long," I tell her, my voice low enough that only she can hear.
Evelyn's eyes hold mine, searching for reassurance I'm not sure I can give. Finally she nods, her shoulders stiff with tension.
"This way," Lucrezia says, linking her arm through Evelyn's with casual familiarity.
I follow Lucrezia through the Feretti mansion, my heart hammering against my ribs. Jessica is missing. The words keep repeating in my head, a terrible mantra I can't silence. Noah's hand was warm on my back as we arrived, but now I'm alone with Damiano's sister and I feel adrift.
"The solarium is just through here," Lucrezia says, her heels clicking on marble floor. "It's more comfortable than sitting in Damiano's study while they talk strategy."
I nod, unable to find words. I don't know these people. A week ago they were just names, powerful families I performed for. Now I'm caught in their war.
The solarium is beautiful—all glass and greenery, sunlight streaming through tropical plants. Under different circumstances, I might appreciate its magic.
"Sit," Lucrezia gestures to a wicker chair. "Would you like some tea?"
"No. Thank you." My hands won't stop trembling.
I've heard things about the Feretti family. Whispers at events, fragments of conversations. They're dangerous, ruthless in business. But they're also fiercely loyal to family. I saw it firsthand at the christening—the way Damiano looked at Zoe and their baby. Like they were his entire universe.
When I played at their celebration I watched them from behind my violin. The way Damiano's eyes followed Zoe across the room. How his hand never left the small of her back when they stood together. How they seemed to communicate without words, existing in their own bubble despite the crowd surrounding them.
"Your brother and his wife," I say suddenly. "They seem very..."
"In love?" Lucrezia smiles. "Disgustingly so. It wasn't always that way."
I twist my hands in my lap. "The Ferettis really do put family first, don't they?"
"Above everything." Her voice hardens. "Which is why Ivan has made a critical mistake if he's taken your sister. Noah considers you his, which makes you—and by extension Jessica—under our protection."
The thought of Noah claiming me as ‘his’ should make me angry. Days ago, it would have. Now I feel a complicated twist of emotions I can't untangle.
"I just want Jessica safe," I say. "She has nothing to do with any of this. She doesn't even know about Ivan."
Lucrezia sits beside me, taking my trembling hands in hers. Her grip is surprisingly strong.
"Listen to me, Evelyn. My brothers and Noah—they're very good at what they do. If anyone can find your sister, it's them."
I look into her eyes, searching for empty reassurance but finding only fierce determination.
"I hope you're right."
I sit in silence, staring at my hands. The minutes stretch endlessly while somewhere in this mansion Noah and Damiano are discussing how to find my sister. Every second that passes is another second Jessica might be with Ivan. The thought makes me physically ill.
Lucrezia sits nearby, her presence surprisingly comforting despite our brief acquaintance. She doesn't fill the silence with empty reassurances, which I appreciate. She simply stays, occasionally glancing at her phone.
After what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes, Lucrezia looks up from her device.
"They might be a while," she says, tucking her phone away. "Would you like to join Zoe? She's with her baby girl and always enjoys company."
I hesitate. The last time I saw Zoe Feretti was at her daughter's christening where I was simply the violinist—background music for their celebration. Now I'm entangled in their world in ways I never imagined.
"I don't want to intrude," I say softly.
"You wouldn't be. Zoe spends too much time alone with just the baby and the nannies when Damiano is working." Lucrezia stands, smoothing her dress. "Besides, sitting here alone with your thoughts isn't helping anyone, especially you."
She's right. The waiting is torture, and I can't do anything to help Jessica by staring at the wall, imagining worst-case scenarios.
"Okay," I agree, rising from my seat. What choice do I have anyway? I'm a guest—or prisoner—in their world now.
Lucrezia leads me through more corridors of the sprawling mansion. The place is like a maze, all marble floors and priceless art. It's beautiful in a cold, intimidating way—wealth displayed as power rather than comfort.
I follow her up a curved staircase, wondering what it must be like to be Zoe—to marry into this world, to love a man like Damiano Feretti. Is it anything like what I'm experiencing with Noah? The comparison makes me uncomfortable.
"Here we are," Lucrezia says, stopping before double doors. She knocks gently before pushing them open. "Zoe? I've brought someone to meet the baby properly."
I step into a sunlit nursery that feels worlds apart from the rest of the mansion. The walls are a soft yellow, adorned with whimsical paintings of animals. In the center of the room Zoe Feretti sits in a rocking chair, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a delicate white blanket.
She looks up as we enter, her face brightening with a genuine smile. "Evelyn, hi! So great to see you again."
I nod, surprised she remembers me.
"Come in, please," she says, gesturing to a nearby chair. "Lucrezia, would you mind getting us some tea?"
Lucrezia nods and slips out, leaving me alone with Zoe and her baby.
"I'm sorry about your sister," Zoe says softly. "Damiano and Noah will do everything possible to find her."
"Thank you," I manage, my eyes drawn to the baby in her arms. "Your daughter is beautiful."
Zoe beams with pride. "Would you like to hold her?"
Before I can answer, she's already standing, crossing to where I sit. I find myself with a warm, tiny human in my arms, her perfect little face peaceful in sleep.
"She likes you," Zoe says, settling back in her chair. "She usually fusses with strangers."
Something shifts inside me as I look down at this innocent life. I never wanted children—never even considered it a possibility. My parents showed me that parenting was more obligation than joy. My father pushed me relentlessly toward perfection, while my mother stood by silently. There was no warmth, no encouragement—just expectations.
"I never thought about having children," I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.
Zoe tilts her head. "Really? Why not?"
"I guess I never saw myself as mother material. My parents weren't exactly role models in that department."
"Well, many parents aren't," Zoe says with a small laugh. "But we get to choose what kind of parents we become."
I look down at the sleeping baby, her tiny hand curled around my finger. Something warm and unfamiliar blooms in my chest.
"Besides," Zoe continues, "you need the right partner. Someone who makes you feel safe enough to create a family."
"I never found anyone who made me think about marriage or children," I say quietly. "My career always came first. I'm still young, I suppose," I murmur, gently rocking the baby.
"You are," Zoe agrees with a warm smile. "But it's also completely okay if you never want to be a mother. That's a valid choice too."
I glance up, surprised by her words. Most women I know—especially in the social circles I perform for—treat motherhood as an inevitable destination, not a choice.
"Really? You don't think every woman should want children?" I ask.
Zoe shakes her head firmly. "God no. We have enough parents in this world who should never have been parents in the first place." Her voice takes on a harder edge. "People who have children because it's expected, or to fix a marriage, or because they want little versions of themselves to control."
The baby stirs in my arms and I adjust my hold instinctively.
"My father wanted a prodigy," I say quietly. "Not a daughter."
"Exactly." Zoe leans forward. "Being a parent means putting someone else's needs before your own. Always. It means loving them for who they are, not who you want them to be." She gestures to her daughter. "I have no idea who she'll become, but I can't wait to find out."
I study Zoe's face, seeing genuine contentment there. Despite being married to one of the most dangerous men in New York, she seems... happy. Secure.
"How did you know?" I ask suddenly. "That you wanted this life? Children with Damiano?"
Zoe laughs softly. "I didn't at first. Our beginning was... complicated. But I fell in love with him, and the rest followed naturally." She pauses, studying me. "Noah is different from Damiano in many ways but they share the same loyalty. The same protective instinct."
I feel my cheeks flush. "Noah and I aren't—I mean, it's not?—"
"It's something," Zoe says gently. "I recognize the look."
I don't know how to respond. What Noah and I have—I can't even define it myself. Captor and captive? Lovers? Something more dangerous than either?