20. Epilogue
Dom
“Sophie?”
I watch her snap out of her daze as she glances around, trying to grasp her bearings. She’s been like that all morning—staring into space, fidgeting with her hands.
Running.
It’s Italy all over again. “Are you coming? You’re making the introductions, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” she exits the car in a hurry, slapping on a smile as she brushes her hands over her dress. But her voice is tight, stretched thin like she’s about to snap. “I’m sorry. It’s this way.”
She’s already marching toward the doors before I can say anything else, her shoulders squared like armor, but tension still leaks from how her hands curl at her sides.
I widen my stride to match her pace, falling beside her, even though she doesn’t look at me.
The silence stretches between us as we enter the building and the elevator. The ride to the top floor feels like being shoved into a too-small box, although I have a feeling she’s the one struggling to breathe.
Not just a feeling. I can see it in her panicked eyes.
Sophie stands just far enough to make it feel like I’m not supposed to close the distance.
When the doors slide open, I speak again, quietly this time. “You sure you’re okay?”
She doesn’t look at me and gives a stiff nod. “Yes.”
“And you can handle the meeting? If you want to reschedule, I’m sure I can make up an excuse. After what happened in Italy—”
“No.” Her response is hurried, and her voice rises like a cry for help.
“ Okay.” I shrug, “Lead the way, then.”
We walk into the office of the CEO of One Construction, a man with a flashy suit and a grin that feels suspicious from the moment the door opens. Mark Ross.
“Welcome,” he says, gesturing to the leather chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit, Mr. Moretti.”
I nod, then gesture to Sophie. “You’ve met my personal attorney, Miss Greco.”
When she was supposed to make a play on behalf of the company—when she lied to me that One Construction wasn’t a viable option.
“Making a play for One Construction at this time is a wrong move. The company is falling apart, literally, from the inside. The contracts that put them on the map were completed by outside agencies, real construction firms who signed under the table to make it look like One Construction was capable.”
Those were her exact words while she sat across from me at the restaurant.
“Oh yes,” he says flippantly, but I don’t miss the glances they exchange before he turns away. In fact, I anticipated it.
That’s why I gave her time to change her mind; I know what’s about to happen.
I know this is a trap. The only way Enzo Bellini would let go of a five-year contract is because what Sophie Greco fed me as the truth before…was actually real. She had no idea then and neither did I. That’s how well they hid their shortcomings. The inside contracts, the illegal bidding.
The clients who were swindled by the company and still have no idea that One Construction was behind the contracts that never saw the light of day.
But I’m sure she knows now.
The second I sign the agreement to buy One Construction, I’ll be the scapegoat.
“Why don’t we skip the small talk and get down to it?” I say, unbuttoning my suit and sitting down. They glance at each other again, and I see hesitation in Sophie’s eyes before she joins me. “I’m sure we all have better things to do.”
Mark clears his throat, and his grin widens. “Sure.” He rubs his hands together. “Why not?”
He pulls out the contract and slides it across his desk. “There you go. Once you sign, we’ll start the process of turning everything over to you.”
It’s a sloppy game, too. Who would buy a deal out of thin air, and one that looks too good to be true on paper?
It makes me feel like she did this on purpose so that I would find out. Then again, I know better than to trust anything Sophie says.
Except Italy.
She saved my life.
“ Mr. Moretti?” Mark pulls me back to focus, scratching his chin like a man running out of time. “Do you need a pen?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I have one.” I pull it out of my pocket and flip the pages to the last, where I have to sign. My pen hovers, the ink inches away from scribbling my signature.
The air is thick, and I feel Sophie watching me, her hands pressed to her thighs. How does she plan on getting away after all this?
I hear Mark’s inhale, his hopes hanging on bated breath. I lean in, bringing the pen closer to the paper. Then I pull back abruptly. My phone vibrates just in time.
“Shit.” Mark.
“I’m sorry,” I say with a thin smile, reading the message. “But before we proceed, I’d like someone else present.” I turn to the door, and when it opens, Raffaele walks in.
“What—” Sophie’s voice breaks. She turns to me, eyebrows knitting. “What’s going on?”
Raffaele doesn’t acknowledge her. He walks over and hands me a large envelope. I place it, not in front of Mark, but Sophie.
Her hand twitches.
“I know you’re setting me up,” I say, voice low and even, each word measured and lethal. “You were initially against my decision to make a play for One Construction and now—” I chuckle softly, “you’ve decided that it’s worth buying.”
The chair swivels as I turn to face her, cutting Mark off. “Why?” My tone is soft…and the anger I’m supposed to feel at being set-up is non-existent now. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because of Italy.
Maybe.
“Who put you up to this?” I ask. “Your uncle?”
Sophie doesn’t speak but her face twists. First in confusion, then in fear. On the other hand, Mark pushes up from his chair and slams both hands on the desk.
“How dare you?”
My gaze snaps to him. “Sit down.” It isn’t a request.
The weight of my voice drops heavy enough to make the blood drain from his face. He hesitates, then slowly lowers himself back into his chair, silence thick as concrete between us.
I look back at Sophie. “I knew your pitch was too good to be true,” I say, quieter now. “So I did some more digging. I found out that I couldn’t trust you after all.”
Her lips part, and her breath catches. I tap the envelope, my eyes never leaving hers. “The proof is all there, as is the evidence that you knew the truth and hid it from me.”
She looks down at it like it’s a bomb counting down. Her throat bobs, eyes glinting with something I don’t want to name, regret or shame. I wait for her to defend herself, but she doesn’t.
Well then.
“And yet…” I lean forward, voice dropping further, deliberate and personal. “I know there’s more you’re hiding from me—”
I wait until it looks like she’s about to run, and then I let the final piece drop.
“Sophie Bellini.”
THE END