Chapter 20
TWENTY
ISABELLA
Later that day, I'm in Lucien's office preparing to go over the details of our upcoming meeting with the Russians.
The room feels different from the last time I was here, charged in a different way, the threat less immediate but somehow more complex, especially after what happened between Anthony and me in Hawaii.
I try not to remember the last time I was in this room and what I did. That doesn't help anyone. Not to mention it’s one of the reasons I'm in this predicament now.
Lucien comes into the office and shuts the door.
Anthony is beside me, and he reaches over and takes my hand.
The gesture is so natural it takes me a moment to register it, and when I do, I feel the knot in my chest loosen a small degree.
Lucien clocks the hold and looks at us both before sitting down without comment.
He opens one of the drawers of his desk and pulls out two phones, sliding one across to me.
I reach for it and quickly scan my messages. There are several from Maeve.
I've noticed an unmarked SUV in town on Saturday. They were parked in front of the local gas station and then left. Should I be concerned?
Haven't heard from you. Can only assume something's afoot in NY. I'll go to the safe house.
I send off a quick reply.
I'm safe. Will come to you when I can.
I set the phone face up on the desk where I can see it and take a breath that I intend to be steadying, but isn't entirely. They’re safe, I’m certain of it.
I glance at Anthony, and guilt pricks my conscience.
I know it's time to tell him the truth. To tell all of the Morettis what I'm hiding.
My stomach churns over at the thought. Surely he will see the reasons why I never told him.
We both know how Alex deceived us both. I just hope it's enough for him to forgive me for not telling him sooner.
It has to be enough. Because I’m running out of time and excuses in equal measure.
Another man joins us in the office.
"This is Franco Moretti."
He reaches across Anthony and holds out his hand, a warm smile on his handsome face. "Call me Luca. It's my middle name."
"Nice to meet you, Luca,” I say.
Anthony's hold on me tightens before Lucien clears his throat, pulling my attention back to him. "The latest intel on the Dragunoviks is that they've sent several of their guys north."
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I lean forward.
"How far north and what for?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
This could all be a coincidence. The text from Maeve, and now this information.
I turn to Anthony. "Is that what Lucien told you in my apartment today when you mentioned Canada. Is that where they've headed?"
I stand, unable to sit still. I feel as though something cold has opened up in the center of my chest, a trapdoor dropping away beneath my feet. A hot panic pierces through me, and my stomach rolls in waves of fear.
"Bells, what's wrong?"
I turn to Anthony, fearing the worst. They wouldn't dare. But even as I think it, I know it’s more than possible.
The Dragunoviks would dare anything. That is precisely what makes them dangerous.
My phone is missing from that drawer. I curse myself for not putting it in my safe before leaving New York.
But everything happened so fast. I didn't even get to come home in the first place to secure my belongings.
Lucien stands. "Do you know why they'd be heading to Canada?"
I'm going to be sick. I can feel it rising in my throat, and I swallow it back down through sheer force of will. But they wouldn't find Ivy there. Maeve was taking her to the safe house. Maeve was smart and careful, and she knew the protocol. I pick up my phone again. Message sent but unread.
Still unread.
Shit.
"Anthony, I'm so sorry."
"About what?" He stands and comes to me. He pulls me into his arms, and I go willingly, pressing my face briefly against his chest. My throat is so tight it aches. My eyes prickle with tears. Tears of frustration and fear.
"What's in Canada, Bells?"
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. "I should have told you, but I didn't know how. I wanted everything to be settled with the Dragunoviks before I did. I wanted a fresh start. I didn't want you or me distracted while we finished what started in this office, but…" I shrug, biting my lip.
Anthony stares at me, a question forming in his eyes before he pulls away, stumbling back.
His face changes in a way I have never seen it switch before, and I know he knows.
I don’t need to tell him because he’s figured it out.
"Oh, my God. You had the baby, didn't you?
" His mouth works as if he’s trying to form words.
“You never had the abortion at all, did you?”
"What fucking baby?" Lucien demands.
I glance at the others. Both have their attention fixed on me. The room feels suddenly very small.
I meet Anthony's eyes and hate myself. I can see pain written across his face, and my heart aches for him, for us both, for all the time we've lost. "It's why I left.
Not even my family knew where I went, only that I was alive.
I had a daughter. I named her Ivy." My voice catches on her name, and I force myself through the truth.
"She's the reason I went to Canada. I needed to see her, and now I think that's what the Dragunoviks are after. "
"Our daughter," Anthony finishes. He says it quietly, almost to himself, like a man testing the weight of a word he’s never been allowed to use before.
Then the quiet breaks. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me this in Hawaii?
" His voice drops to a low, dangerous tone, and he storms over to me, clasping my arms and shaking me a little.
"I could have sent men to her immediately.
I could have had her protected before we even landed back in New York. "
"Anthony —"
"You had days, Isabella." He steps back, and I feel the loss of him like a physical severing.
The warmth gone, replaced by something cold and distant.
Like we were for the past five years. "You had days in Hawaii when you knew the truth.
You knew what Alex had done to us both, and you still said nothing.
You let me hold you and—" He stops. Runs a hand over his jaw.
The muscle there ticks once, twice. "She’s my daughter.
My child. And you made the decision to keep her from me even then by yourself. "
"I was frightened." The words come out smaller than I intend.
"You were frightened," he repeats without inflection, which is somehow worse than anger. "You had five years of frightened, Bells. I understand that. But you had Hawaii, too, and you chose to say nothing. That isn’t fear. That’s a choice."
The accusation lands, and I don't deflect it because he isn't wrong, and we both know it. Guilt sits in my stomach like a lead weight.
"How the fuck does a Moretti have a child with a Romero and none of us are aware?" Luca says, cutting through the silence. We all turn to look at him.
Anthony runs a hand through his hair and glances at me, but doesn't hold my eyes. He is angry and hurt, and working very hard to keep both in check. "We met years ago, and what started out as a little dangerous fun, for both of us, changed."
I raise an eyebrow despite myself. A little dangerous fun?
It had turned into something I had no vocabulary for at twenty-two years old.
I had been obsessed with him. Hooked in a way that frightened me more than my family ever had.
It didn't matter that he was the enemy. I didn't care about anything other than when I would see him again.
I craved being in his arms. I couldn't sleep without him beside me.
I was utterly, completely, head-over-heels in love with him, and five years, a daughter, and a brother's betrayal later, still hadn't changed a single thing about that.
It should have. God knows it should have.
But it didn’t.
Lucien clears his throat. "On the matter of the meeting." He folds his hands on the desk and looks between us both. "We need to discuss what the Dragunoviks are likely to want out of this conversation, because I don't think it's simply a ceasefire."
"What do you think it is?" Anthony asks, pulling himself back into the room in that way he has. Compartmentalizing with a speed I have always found both impressive and slightly terrifying.
"Leverage," Lucien says simply. "We think they may have something on Isabella. Something they intend to bring to the table."
"What kind of something?" Anthony's voice is very quiet.
"We don't know yet. But the movement north, the missing phone, and documents from the apartment.” Lucien looks at me directly. "If they've put it together, Isabella, then they may already know about the child."
The room tilts. I reach for a nearby chair and grab hold, trying to breathe.
They could have Ivy. The thought is merciless in its horror.
I shove the fear down with everything I have because if I let it take hold, I’ll fall apart, and I can’t, not here, not now, not when she needs me to hold it together.
Please, I pray with a fervency I haven't felt since the night I gave birth alone in a Canadian hospital room with nobody's hand to hold.
Please let Maeve get her out. Please let them be in the safe house.
Please let my daughter be sitting somewhere warm and safe and entirely unaware of what is moving toward her.
I pick up my phone for the third time. The message sits there, still unread.
"Anthony." I turn to him, and for once I don't try to hide what's on my face. "If they have her…"
"They won't." His eyes find mine and hold steady. The anger, beneath the hurt, I see it. The same terror I’m feeling. There is comfort in knowing he cares, even if only for Ivy.
He turns to Lucien. "I’m putting men on every border crossing between New York and Canada. Every airport, every private strip within five hundred miles of Toronto. If anyone matching Rodin's description or any known Dragunovik asset moves, I want to know within the hour."
"Agreed," Lucien states.
Lucien's phone pings, and we all turn. He reads the message quickly before his gaze meets mine. "The meeting has been brought forward to tomorrow. They want it held at our club. 10 a.m. sharp.”
I check my phone again. Still no message. Where are you, Maeve? Where is my daughter? Please God let them be safe.
"I'll be ready." Hopefully, I'll get out of there, too. Before I can do anything further, Anthony stands and leaves the office.
I chase after him, only catching him when he’s at the elevators. I clasp his arm and pull him to look at me. “Where are you going?” I ask. Was he even going to bring me along with him or just leave me here in Moretti Global? A place so foreign to me it may as well be the moon.
“I’m leaving.” His words are flat, no emotion whatsoever. I shake my head. What the hell is going on?
“And what, you were going to just leave me here? With Lucien Moretti.”
He stares at the elevators, and for several seconds I wonder if he’s going to answer at all. “Yes.” He pulls out his phone and sends off a quick text.
“I’m coming with you,” I say, settling in at his side.
“No, you’re not. You’re the last person I want to talk to right now. I’m angry and need a moment, and you’re going to give me that grace after lying to me these past days.”
I sigh. He was right, of course, but still. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I was going to tell you, I promise.”
His lips thin, and he nods, but I know he doesn’t believe me. “You’ll stay at Lucien’s tonight. Briar, his wife, is back from Ireland, and she’ll keep you company. I’ll see you at the meeting in the morning.”
I swallow my hurt and fear and wonder if this time I’ve pushed Anthony too far. Maybe he’ll never forgive me for keeping Ivy a secret. Maybe I was as bad as my brother. “I’m sorry.”
The elevator dings and opens up before us. “Yeah, so am I,” he says, stepping away from me. I can’t help but feel it’s an omen for what is to come.