28. Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Eight
Donna
For a few seconds after Lorenzo finishes, I say nothing.
We keep walking along the edge of the lake while Mocha moves several yards ahead of us, nose to the ground as he investigates a clump of dead grass with the concentration of someone solving a major crime.
The wind coming off the water is colder than I expected, and I pull my coat tighter around myself while I try to sort through everything Lorenzo just told me.
Behind us, far enough away to give us privacy and close enough that neither of us can pretend they are not there, two of his security people follow at an unhurried pace.
Under normal circumstances, I would probably make a comment about it.
Right now, I barely care.
“So Marcello thinks you killed Angelo,” I say finally.
Lorenzo looks out across the water. “In every way that matters to him.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
I glance at him, at the expression on his face. “You know that, too, right?”
His lips tighten slightly. “Knowing something and being entirely unaffected by it are different things.”
There is no defensiveness in his voice, which somehow makes the answer easier to understand.
“I get why you feel guilty,” I say. “I don’t agree with it, but I get it.”
He looks at me then.
“Do you?” he asks quietly.
“I don't have to be a parent to understand your guilt and where it's coming from.
You may not have liked Marcello, and yes, Angelo made his own choices, but you're still a father, and watching a father not be able to protect his son obviously hits close to home. You can know they made their own choices and still feel guilty at the part you played in all of it.”
Lorenzo watches me for a moment before looking ahead again.
“That is more or less the argument I have been having with myself since it happened.”
“Well, congratulations. You can stop now. I’ve settled it.”
That earns me a sideways glance.
“You have?”
“Yes. I’m very efficient.”
“It seems I underestimated you.”
I bump my shoulder lightly against his arm. “Don't do it again.”
“I shan’t.”
We watch Mocha for a moment as he trots farther along the path, pauses near the water, then turns to check where we are before returning to whatever smell has captured his attention.
“However…” I start, “the plan was to make you watch Alessio go to prison and eventually lose him. And, well, Alessio is free.”
“Yes.”
“That is worrisome.”
“Hence the heightened security,” he says.
“You think he'll come after me?” I shove my hands into my coat pockets.
“I think he knows someone interfered, and if he doesn't yet know that it was you, he will soon.” There is no humor in his voice now.
“Well, we know he's aware of me anyway. The break-ins answered that question,” I comment.
I look toward the lake.
The break-ins seemed infuriating when I was standing in the middle of my destroyed office. They still are, but hearing Marcello’s name and understanding the reason behind all of this changes a few things.
Someone did not simply want my notes.
Someone wanted to know how much I had discovered about a man who believed Lorenzo took his son.
I exhale slowly. “You could have told me.”
“I intended to.”
I turn my head toward him.
“Eventually,” he adds.
“Mhmm,” I say skeptically. I do not have enough energy to restart the argument we already had in my office. “I would have preferred to know I was walking around with a target on my back.”
“I did not know that you were.”
“You suspected enough to assign security.”
“Yes.”
“Close enough.”
Lorenzo stops walking.
I make it another step before realizing he has, then turn back.
His expression is serious and makes me forget the cold for a moment.
“I suspected Marcello might react once he realized someone was tracing Rachel’s money,” he says. “I did not know he had already identified you, and I did not know whether he understood there was anything between us beyond the investigation.”
“We still don't know that he does.” I fold my arms. “He had someone break into my office and home to find what I know about him and Lakeview Logistics. That doesn't mean he knows anything about us personally.”
“He knows you left your office last night and that you did not go home. I've stayed at your place, you've stayed at my place. We haven't made a secret of it. We have to assume he knows enough.”
“He spent months coming up with this plan.”
“And it failed,” Lorenzo says. “The man is grief-stricken, and we don't know what he'll do now that it's failed. He has shown exactly how he deals with someone I love.”
I glance away.
That is a very unfair way to frame it.
“I’m not helpless,” I say.
“Neither is Alessio.”
I blow out a breath, and it fogs the air between us.
“Fine, I get your point. I just mean we're not unaware anymore.”
Lorenzo steps closer, lowering his voice, which is far more effective than his yelling voice, and he knows it.
“Marcello does not need you to be helpless in order to hurt you. He does not need to overpower you personally. He can use other people. He can wait until you are somewhere you believe is secure. He can learn your routines. He can create a situation where your skill does not matter because you never see the threat coming.”
I do not like how logical that sounds.
Mostly because it is exactly what someone did to my office and my house.
It also gets me thinking.
“They bypassed my alarm,” I say. “And got through my office lock without leaving obvious damage.”
“Yes.”
I look at him.
“So whoever Marcello is using is competent.”
“Very.”
“That could be useful information.”
His eyes close briefly.
“What?”
“You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Turning the danger into evidence.”
I shrug. “It is evidence.”
“Of course it is.”
I can hear the resignation in his voice now, which makes me smile despite myself.
“We already agreed we’re meeting in the middle.”
“We agreed I would try.”
“Try harder.”
He mutters at me in Italian.
I laugh and start walking again.
After a second, he falls into step beside me.
Mocha has discovered a fallen branch and is sniffing every inch of it as though he expects someone to have hidden contraband underneath.
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“We find Marcello before he makes his next move.”
“And by we, you mean your family.”
“I mean all of us.”
I look at him with narrowed eyes.
“That sounds dangerously close to acknowledging that I am still on the case.”
“I'm smart enough to know that you will not stop investigating, and I can protect you better if I don’t try to make you.”
“That might be the most sensible thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“I am going to regret learning compromise.”
“You definitely are.”
His hand finds mine, and he threads his fingers through mine. The gesture is so ordinary that it feels almost out of place in this conversation.
But I like it.
I suppress my cheesy smile at the casual romance of it all.
Donna Costa doesn’t do cheesy smiles and romance.
I shake my head.
The lake stretches ahead of us, gray beneath the afternoon sky, while Mocha trots along the edge of the path and Lorenzo’s security keeps their distance behind us.
This morning my office was destroyed, my house was searched, and I found out a man I had never heard of may now consider me useful leverage against Lorenzo.
And yet somehow I am walking around a lake holding Lorenzo Conti’s hand less than an hour after we declared our love for each other mid-argument in the middle of the wreck of my office.
My life has become strange.
I squeeze his fingers once.
“Marcello paid Rachel through those shell companies?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“And Harbor Peak still leads back to him?”
“Yes. So I’ll keep following the financial trail I was planning on following before you gave me all of this background.”
Lorenzo glances at me.
“You are already planning your next move.”
“Obviously.”
“Your office was broken into this morning.”
“I remember.”
“Your house was also broken into.”
“I remember that too.”
“And you are already planning to go back to work.”
I look at him and shrug.
“You fell in love with me. This sounds like a you problem.”
For a moment, he simply stares.
Then he laughs, warm and surprised. Something inside me loosens.
He brings my hand up and presses his mouth briefly against my knuckles. “You are going to be a handful.”
I lower my voice seductively. “I'm sure you're up for the task.”
His eyes darken as he looks at me. “Careful, Donatella. I may take that as a challenge.”
“I intended it as one.”
Lorenzo glances over his shoulder. “I suddenly regret bringing an audience.”
“Well, if I recall correctly, my house is pretty ransacked. So I'm going to need somewhere to stay tonight. And I don't have any clothes with me.” I poke out my lip in a pout.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “That is a very serious problem.”
“I thought so.”
“I suppose I could offer you something to wear.”
“How generous.”
His smile turns wolfish as he steps closer. “Though I don’t think I will.”
I let out an exaggerated gasp. “You would take advantage of me like that?”
“Sì, amore mio,” he murmurs, leaning in. “In every possible way."
I shiver in anticipation as his hand settles on the back of my neck, and his lips descend.
Mocha decides he has had enough of us ignoring him and trots back to nudge my leg with his nose.
Lorenzo sighs as he pulls back. “Your timing is terrible.”
Mocha pants, tail wagging.
I laugh. “He's used to being the only man in my life."
Lorenzo gives me a look. “Not anymore.”
“No,” I agree, my smile softening. “Not anymore.”
He starts walking again, and I fall into step beside him. His security remains at a distance.
There is a difference between knowing about a threat and understanding it. I know about Marcello Greco now. I know why he might be interested in me.
Marcello wants Lorenzo to believe that loving someone means eventually being powerless to save them.
It's now my job to make sure that he never succeeds. No matter what.