CHAPTER TWO
ADRIAN
Nora Bellini stands in front of five armed men and tells me my bride is missing as if informing a restaurant that the wine shipment arrived late.
Her breathing is controlled.
Her pupils are not.
Fear without panic.
Useful.
“What does disappeared mean?” I ask.
“It means she is not where three security teams, nine beauty professionals, two family assistants, and a woman with a clipboard expected her to be.”
Enzo Bellini leaves the bar. “Celeste would not run.”
Nora turns her head.
“You said the same thing when she vanished from boarding school for three days.”
“That was different.”
“She was in Milwaukee.”
“She was sixteen.”
“She still disliked you.”
Enzo’s fingers clamp around the back of the chair. Nora looks back at me before he can answer. She does not waste time winning an argument she already controls.
“She left her dress, purse, passport, wallet, and medication,” she says. “Her phone was deliberately damaged.”
“Evidence of force?”
“No visible injury. No sign of struggle.”
“Cameras?”
“Malik’s team is reviewing them.”
Malik closes the door and takes position beside it. Gianna watches Nora with the expression she reserves for contracts written by hostile counsel.
Tommaso sits at the end of the table, fingers folded over his stomach. He appears patient. My uncle has spent thirty years making patience look like innocence.
“The Bellini girl fled,” he says. “There is no mystery.”
Nora looks at him. “Which Bellini girl?”
His smile does not change.
“The bride.”
“That would be Celeste.”
“I know her name.”
“Good. There are several Bellini women in the building. Precision prevents unnecessary shootings.”
Enzo mutters something in Italian. Nora ignores him. I do not.
“What else did you find?” I ask.
Her gaze meets mine. Nothing in her face moves. A lie by omission, then.
“Her phone,” she says.
“You already mentioned it.”
“It remains relevant.”
“Nora.”
The use of her first name changes the room. Enzo notices. Gianna notices. Nora notices most of all. She shifts her clipboard beneath one arm.
“I found enough to believe she did not leave because she changed her mind about the flowers.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the answer I am prepared to give until I know who in this room benefits from her disappearance.”
One of Tommaso’s men leans forward. I lift two fingers. He settles back. Nora sees the exchange. Her attention drops briefly to my hand, the ring, the men around the table. She records the hierarchy without appearing to study it.
“You are in no position to withhold evidence,” Tommaso says.
“I’m the only person in this room who noticed the bride was gone.”
“My security noticed.”
“After I told them.”
Tommaso’s smile thins. I should order Malik to search her.
Instead, I ask, “How long until the guests understand there is no ceremony?”
“Forty-five minutes before suspicion. Twenty before gossip. Five if Mrs. Carbone reaches the bridal floor.”
My mother’s sister, not my mother. Nora has been precise.
“What have you told the staff?”
“Minor reaction to a cosmetic product.”
Gianna speaks. “Believable.”
“Temporary,” Nora says. “Like most useful deceptions.”
Enzo paces toward the table. “We postpone.”
“No,” Tommaso says.
The room turns toward him.
He spreads his hands. “Postponement announces weakness. The Bellini family gives us a bride and then removes her before witnesses. Every rival in the city will interpret it as rejection.”
“My daughter may have been taken,” Enzo says.
“And my nephew may be publicly humiliated.”
Nora’s mouth changes by less than a smile. She considers our priorities absurd. She is correct. The marriage was never about Celeste.
It was about the southern freight routes, union access, political protection, and the end of a conflict that has cost eleven men in fourteen months. The ceremony turns an agreement into a fact that everyone can see. Without it, the ceasefire becomes an opinion.
I look at Malik. “Lock the building.”
Nora answers before he can.
“Not completely.”
Malik’s eyes narrow.
I turn to her. “Explain.”
“Seven hundred guests. Four kitchens. Twenty-three vendors. Two hundred and sixteen staff members who do not belong to either family. If you close every exit at once, people will panic, call police, contact press, or post footage. You will also trap whoever removed Celeste inside a crowd that knows it is being searched.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Control service access. Keep public entrances functioning. Delay departures through valet congestion and staged elevator maintenance. Verify staff in groups by department. Do not put armed men in front of grandmothers.”
Tommaso laughs once.
Nora looks at him. “You are welcome to explain the tactical value of terrifying grandmothers.”
He stops laughing. Malik considers her plan.
“It gives us movement,” he says.
“It gives them movement,” I reply.
“Movement can be watched,” Nora says. “Panic cannot.”
She is right. I nod to Malik. He leaves the room without further discussion. Nora’s shoulders lower a fraction. She did not expect me to listen. That interests me more than it should.
Enzo grips the back of a chair. “We cannot proceed without Celeste.”
Tommaso looks at him. “The treaty requires a marriage between the houses.”
“The agreement names Celeste.”
“The public agreement does.”
Silence follows.
Nora’s gaze moves from Tommaso to Enzo. She understands before her father speaks.
“No,” she says.
Enzo does not look at her. Gianna’s expression stills.
Tommaso leans back. “Nora is your daughter.”
“No,” Nora repeats.
“Legally?” Gianna asks Enzo.
He rubs a hand across his mouth. “Her birth certificate lists me.”
Nora laughs softly. There is no humor in it.
“You denied knowing whether I was yours until I was twenty-three.”
“This is not the time.”
“It is exactly the time. Apparently my legitimacy has a scheduling function.”
“Nora,” Enzo says.
She turns to him.
He stops.
Her anger is quiet. Controlled in the way a sealed container is controlled.
Tommaso looks at me. “The terms can be preserved.”
Gianna speaks first. “Not without Nora’s consent.”
Tommaso gives her a mild look. “The alternative is war.”
“That is pressure,” she says. “Not consent.”
“For the marriage contract,” Nora says, “it is coercion.”
I watch her. She knows what this is.
Good.
I will not insult her by pretending otherwise.
“If the ceremony is canceled,” I say, “the ceasefire ends.”
Nora turns to me. “That sounds like your problem.”
“It becomes yours when Bellini properties are attacked.”
“I do not live on Bellini property.”
“Your company occupies a building Enzo owns.”
Her face does not move.
I continue. “Your employees were listed as protected civilian contractors under the agreement. If the agreement fails, that protection fails with it.”
“You’re threatening my staff.”
“No. I am describing what other men will do when they believe there are no consequences.”
“You control those men.”
“Some.”
The truth matters here. I step around the table.
Everyone notices.
Nora remains where she is.
Up close, she is smaller than I expected, though not delicate. Her black suit is designed for movement. One sleeve bears a faint streak of floral dust. A thin chain rests at her throat, holding what appears to be an old safety pin.
Her eyes are brown, clear, and furious.
“If Celeste was taken,” I say, “the person responsible may want this agreement destroyed. Canceling the wedding gives them what they want.”
“Marrying me gives you what you want.”
“Yes.”
The honesty unsettles Enzo more than it unsettles her.
She shifts the clipboard to her other arm. “What happens after?”
“We find Celeste.”
“And the marriage?”
“When the threat is contained, either of us can petition to have the marriage declared invalid.”
“On what basis?”
“Duress,” Gianna says before I can answer. “Remaining unconsummated keeps the record cleaner, but it is not the only basis.”
Nora’s gaze cuts to mine. “There will be no obligation of that kind.”
“No.”
Tommaso moves in his chair. “Adrian—”
I do not look at him. Nora studies me for several seconds.
“You would agree to that in writing?”
“Yes.”
“Separate bedrooms.”
“Yes.”
“My company remains mine.”
“Yes.”
“My income remains mine.”
“Yes.”
“My staff receives protection that reports to someone other than my father.”
“Yes.”
“Access to the investigation.”
Tommaso shakes his head. “Impossible.”
Nora looks at him. “Then find another daughter.”
“There is no time.”
“That sounds hereditary.”
Gianna hides a reaction by lowering her gaze. I should not find Nora amusing.
I do.
“You will receive relevant information,” I say.
“All information involving Celeste.”
“Relevant information.”
She looks at me as if I have offered counterfeit currency.
“I decide what is relevant to my sister.”
“No.”
“Then no marriage.”
Tommaso stands. “You do not bargain with—”
“Sit down,” I say.
He meets my eyes. The room quiets.
Tommaso sits.
Nora notices that too.
I lower my voice. “You will have access to the investigation, subject to operational security.”
“Defined by whom?”
“Malik.”
“Not you?”
“Malik.”
She considers this.
“Protection for Priya and every employee scheduled today,” she says.
“Granted.”
“No surveillance inside my office or their homes.”
“Unless there is an immediate threat.”
“Immediate and documented.”
Gianna says, “I can draft that.”
Nora turns to her. “You represent him.”
“I represent the companies. At this moment, I am also the only attorney in the building who has openly objected to forcing you into a marriage.”
Fair.
Nora takes a slow breath. Only then do I see the cost of what she is considering. Not fear of me. Fear of becoming owned.
“Why did Celeste write not to cancel?” she asks.
The question is too specific.
“What did you find?” I ask again.
She realizes the error.
“Nothing I’m giving you yet.”
Tommaso curses.
I ignore him.
“If Celeste left you a message,” I say, “then she anticipated disappearing.”
“Maybe.”
“And she believed the marriage must proceed.”
“Maybe.”
“Then refusing may place her in greater danger.”
Pain passes across Nora’s face and disappears.
There.
That is the lever. I hate that I see it. I use it anyway.
“If you marry me,” I say, “I will use every resource I have to find her. I will protect your employees. I will preserve the agreement long enough to prevent open war.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I continue searching.”
She waits.
“But I cannot guarantee what happens to the Bellini family, their properties, or anyone associated with them once the guests learn the treaty failed.”
She looks toward Enzo. He has the decency to appear ashamed. Not enough decency to offer himself instead. Nora places the clipboard on the table.
“What exactly do the public terms require?”
Gianna answers. “A legal marriage witnessed by both families.”
“Does it require the original dress?”
“No.”
“The original vows?”
“No.”
“The original seating plan?”
Tommaso frowns. “What does that matter?”
Nora studies him. “Everything at a wedding matters to someone. Usually the wrong person.”
She turns back to me.
“If I do this, the ceremony follows my instructions.”
“You expect to manage your own forced wedding?”
“I expect not to be murdered by poor scheduling.”
I should say no. I should put Malik in control, remove her from operations, and reduce the number of variables.
Instead, I hear myself ask, “What do you need?”
Nora’s eyes sharpen.
“Fifty-eight minutes,” she says. “My staff. Gianna. Complete access to the venue. And no one tells your aunt until I’m already wearing the dress.”
“My aunt will object.”
“Your aunt objected to the lake being visible from a lakefront ballroom. She is not a decision-making benchmark.”
Gianna looks away again. I glance at the clock.
5:02 p.m.
Fifty-eight minutes until the ceremony. Fifty-eight minutes to replace a bride, preserve a treaty, and discover whether the woman in front of me is hiding evidence of betrayal.
“Agreed,” I say.
Nora picks up the clipboard. Her fingers are steady now. That does not mean she is less afraid. It means she has something to do. As she reaches the door, I speak.
“Mrs. Carbone.”
She stops.
Slowly, she looks back at me.
“Not yet.”
“Fifty-eight minutes.”
Her expression promises that if we survive the evening, I will pay for every one of them.
Then she opens the door.