Chapter Thirty-Four
MARCO
At four fifty-seven, Gio begins pacing.
He crosses my office, turns near the windows, and walks back. His route takes him behind the chair across from my desk, past the shelves, and within inches of the same corner every time.
“You’re making it difficult to concentrate.”
“You aren’t concentrating.”
I look down at the report in front of me.
I’ve been reading the same paragraph for nine minutes.
My phone sits on the desk beside the divorce packet. My signature appears on every document requiring it.
Lucia’s lines remain blank.
“She has three minutes,” I say.
Gio checks his watch.
“Yes.”
“They may have encountered traffic.”
“They’re coming from Barrington, not another continent.”
“Traffic exists in Rhode Island.”
“Thank you, Marco. That’s very reassuring.”
He crosses the office again.
At five, my phone remains silent.
The second hand moves around the clock on the shelf.
I wait.
Lucia agreed to call at five.
Not approximately five.
Not sometime after five.
At five.
She knows I will be watching the clock.
At five-oh-one, Gio stops pacing.
“Call her.”
I pick up the phone.
It rings four times before going to voicemail.
I call again.
This time, it goes directly there.
Gio takes out his own phone and tries.
Nothing.
I call Dario.
His phone is off.
Bruno’s is the same.
The fear I have been holding at a distance moves closer.
I press the intercom.
“Armando.”
He answers immediately.
“Yes?”
“Where is the vehicle?”
Keys click in the adjoining security room.
“It hasn’t left Moretti’s estate.”
“When was the last signal?”
“Four twenty-eight.”
Gio goes still.
“Why weren’t we told?” he asks.
“The vehicle hadn’t moved. There was no indication anything was wrong.”
“Find another signal,” I say.
More keys.
“Dario and Bruno’s phones are offline.”
“I know.”
“I’m pulling the road cameras now.”
“Get in here.”
Armando enters less than a minute later with his laptop already open. He places it on the corner of my desk, shifting the divorce packet aside without looking at it.
I call Lucia again.
Voicemail.
“She’s not answering,” Gio says.
“I’m aware.”
“Then do something.”
I look at him.
His face is pale beneath his anger.
Losing Lucia once nearly destroyed him.
I won’t let it happen again.
“Call Moretti’s house,” I tell Armando.
He finds the number and places the call through my desk.
I put it on speaker.
A man answers.
“Moretti residence.”
“This is Marco Catenzio. Put Moretti on the phone.”
“Mr. Moretti is unavailable.”
“Make him available.”
There is a brief silence.
“One moment.”
The line goes quiet.
Gio braces both hands against my desk.
“If he hurt her—”
“He hasn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But Moretti wants her love. Hurting her won’t get it.”
“He locked her inside his house.”
“We haven’t confirmed that.”
Gio stares at me.
I stare back.
We both know.
The call clicks.
“Marco,” Moretti says.
No surprise.
No concern.
He was expecting my call.
“Put Lucia on the phone.”
“She is safe.”
“That wasn’t my request.”
“She’s had an emotional afternoon. It would be better if she rested.”
My hand tightens around the edge of the desk. The wood presses into my palm.
Across from me, Gio’s expression changes.
The fear is still there.
Now it has company.
“She was supposed to leave your home thirty minutes ago.”
“Plans changed.”
“Did Lucia change them?”
Moretti is silent.
That is answer enough.
“You’re holding her against her will.”
“I’m protecting my daughter from men who have taken advantage of her vulnerability.”
“You mean us.”
“I mean you.”
Gio opens his mouth.
I hold up one hand.
Not yet.
“You invited her there under false pretenses,” I say. “You used Maria’s belongings to get her inside your house.”
“I showed my daughter her mother’s history.”
“And then you locked the door.”
“I lost twenty-four years with her.”
“You keep saying that as if Lucia owes you compensation.”
His breathing changes.
Good.
Anger makes men careless.
“You returned her to Mikhailov,” Moretti says. “You put her in a car without telling her where you were taking her. You surrendered her safety to the man she feared most.”
Every word is true.
That doesn’t make him right.
“You believe my mistakes give you permission to repeat them?”
“I am correcting them.”
“By taking away her choice.”
“Lucia is not in a position to understand how thoroughly you and your brother have manipulated her.”
Gio leans over the phone.
“You don’t know a damned thing about her.”
Moretti pauses.
“Gio.”
“Put Lucy on the phone.”
“My daughter needs time away from both of you.”
“What she needs is for every controlling bastard in her family to stop deciding what she needs.”
Armando lowers his head, concealing a reaction.
Moretti’s voice hardens.
“You have no place in this conversation.”
“Ask Lucy.”
“I don’t need to.”
I hold up my hand before Gio says something that makes our next move more difficult.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want the marriage annulled.”
“No.”
“You coerced her into it.”
“I did.”
Gio looks at me.
I keep my attention on the call.
“I signed documents waiving the one-year term and agreeing not to contest a divorce. Lucia knows she can begin the process whenever she chooses.”
“She made that decision while living beneath your roof, surrounded by your men, and involved with your brother.”
“So you intend to hold her until she makes the decision you prefer.”
“I intend to give her time to think clearly.”
“Put her on the phone.”
“No.”
“Then there is nothing more to discuss.”
“Marco.”
I end the call.
Gio stares at me.
“You hung up.”
“He was using the call to establish terms. I’m not accepting them.”
“What if he takes it out on her?”
“He won’t.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I believe it.”
I have dealt with men like Moretti my entire life.
Men who love as though love were a title deed.
He will give Lucia beautiful rooms, expensive clothing, and every comfort he can imagine. He will tell himself the locked doors are temporary.
Necessary.
He won’t strike her.
He won’t need to.
The cage will be lined with her mother’s memories.
Armando’s laptop chimes.
“I have something.”
He turns the screen toward us.
A traffic camera shows a dark sedan stopped several miles from Moretti’s estate. Two men stand beside it.
Dario and Bruno.
The timestamp is four fifty-nine.
“That isn’t our vehicle,” Gio says.
“No,” Armando agrees. “Moretti’s men drove them away from the estate. They were left near Route 114.”
“Get someone to them.”
“Already done.”
My phone rings.
An unfamiliar number.
I answer.
“Catenzio.”
“Marco, it’s Dario.”
His voice is rough.
“Are you hurt?”
“Bruised. Bruno’s shoulder may be strained.”
“Lucia?”
“She was unharmed when they took us outside.”
“What happened?”
“They blocked the door when we tried to leave. Moretti took her phone. His men drew on us.”
“And Lucia?”
“She told me to stand down.”
Of course she did.
“She knew we wouldn’t make it out,” Dario continues. “She told me to find you.”
“Where are you now?”
“A gas station. Moretti’s men took our phones and drove us ten miles before letting us out. Bruno is trying to borrow a car.”
“Stay where you are. Armando has men coming.”
“I shouldn’t have left her.”
“You followed her order.”
“I was supposed to protect her.”
“She protected you.”
The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth.
Lucia has spent too much of her life calculating which people she loves will survive if she submits quietly.
It ends now.
“Tell me everything you saw.”
Dario describes the house.
Four men outside.
Three in the foyer.
Two on the second floor.
Two who remained with Moretti.
Cameras at the gates.
Security along the eastern side of the property.
A dock.
One boat.
He heard Moretti tell someone to move Lucia’s belongings into Maria’s old room at the end of the west hall.
Not ask whether Lucia would stay.
Prepare for the decision he had already made.
“Did you see her taken upstairs?”
“No. She was still in the foyer when they forced us outside.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Just to tell you.”
He goes quiet.
“Boss, she knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you’d come.”
The line clicks as another call comes through.
Lucia’s number.
I end the call with Dario and answer.
“Lucia.”
For one second, there is nothing.
Then I hear her breathe.
“Marco.”
My eyes close.
Gio moves beside me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
“Matteo took my phone. His men roughed up Dario and Bruno, but I think they’re all right.”
“They are. I spoke to Dario.”
A breath leaves her.
“Good.”
“Where are you?”
“In my mother’s room.”
A door closes near her.
Then Moretti speaks.
“You’ve heard her voice.”
“Give her the phone.”
“I’m standing beside her.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
There is a rustle.
“Marco,” Lucia says again.
Her voice is controlled.
Too controlled.
“I’m here,” I say.
“I know.”
Gio leans closer to the phone.
“Lucy?”
“I’m here, Gio.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes.”
Her voice wavers on the word.
His hand closes around the edge of my desk.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“No,” I tell her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I chose to come.”
“And Moretti chose not to let you leave.”
“I should have listened.”
“No.”
The word comes out harder than I intend.
“If you wanted to see your mother’s belongings, you had the right to come. Trusting your father was not permission for him to imprison you.”
The line is silent.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
Moretti speaks somewhere near her.
“That’s enough.”
“Wait,” Lucia says.
I hear movement.
“Marco, don’t give him what he wants.”
The call ends.
The sudden silence is louder than her voice was.
Gio takes out his phone and calls her again.
It goes directly to voicemail.
For several seconds, no one speaks.
Then Gio turns to Armando.
“How many men do we have in Rhode Island?”
“Not enough to storm a Moretti estate.”
“Then get more.”
“That house will be fortified,” I say.
Gio faces me.
“So we leave her there?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I look at the property photograph on Armando’s screen.
The main house.
The gates.
The shoreline.
A private dock extending into Narragansett Bay.
Moretti expects anger.
He expects threats, demands, and men gathering at his gates. He knows exactly how to defend against an assault.
What he may not expect is Lucia.
She didn’t cry on the phone.
She didn’t beg us to accept his terms.
She told us not to give him what he wants.
He believes he has taken a frightened young woman from two men who control her.
He has no idea who he locked inside his house.
“Get the architectural plans,” I tell Armando. “Every renovation, utility entrance, security permit, and marine access point.”
He begins typing.
“Contact the men Dario identified at the Moretti meeting. Quietly. I want to know which of them would prefer a change in leadership.”
Gio watches me.
“You’re threatening a war.”
“I’m preparing for one.”
“What’s the plan?”
“First, we learn everything we can about the estate.”
“And then?”
I pick up the divorce packet.
Moretti thinks this is what he wants.
He believes a signature will end the marriage and remove Lucia from our lives.
He doesn’t understand that the paper has never been what binds her to us.
“Then we give Lucia a way out.”
“You think she’ll wait?”
“No.”
The answer comes easily.
“She’ll be looking for one too.”
I place the packet inside my desk drawer.
“Get me the plans to that house. We’re bringing her home.”