Elena #2
Elena didn’t know what to do with his guilt.
She wanted to hate him. It would be easier, so much easier, but all she could see was the man who had been homeless at fifteen.
The man Luca had saved. The man who had built his entire identity around loyalty.
Hale had used that against him, just like he’d used her father, and just like he was using her now.
“Elena,” Dante said quietly. “I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes. There it was—the apology she’d wanted from someone for two years. Except it came from the last person she ever wanted to hear it from.
“I can’t forgive you,” she whispered.
Dante nodded. “I know.”
“Maybe someday,” she said. His eyes lifted to hers. She didn’t know why she’d added that part. Maybe because she couldn't stand the hopelessness in his face, or maybe because she meant it. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll take maybe,” he said. Her throat tightened.
Luca cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”
Elena almost laughed. “Of course there is.”
Luca pulled a small evidence envelope from the file, and Dante straightened. “The key.” Inside was a small brass key. Elena stood, and Luca handed it to her. A number was stamped along the side—417. She turned it over and found three letters scratched into the metal. CHR.
“Crimson Holdings,” Dante said.
“Maybe.” Elena stared at it. Her father had been carrying it the night he died. The safe-deposit key she already had was different, which meant there was another box, and another secret. There was another piece of the life her father had hidden from her.
Luca opened his laptop. “I already searched the number.”
“And?” Dante asked.
“There’s a private vault company in Manhattan that used three-letter client prefixes in the early 2000s.”
Elena’s pulse quickened. “Is it still operating?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
“Can we access it?” she asked.
“Not without credentials,” Luca said.
Elena held up the key. “I have credentials.”
Luca shook his head. “You need identity verification tied to the account.”
“Whose identity?” she asked.
He looked at the file. “Antonio Romano.” Her heart sank, and Dante stepped closer.
“Unless he added a beneficiary,” Dante said. Luca typed on his laptop, and a few moments passed before he stopped. Elena knew before he spoke.
“What?” she asked. Luca turned the screen to show her that there was one beneficiary—Elena Romano. Her mouth went dry. “When can we go?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Luca said.
“No.” Everyone looked at her.
“Today,” she insisted.
“Elena,” Dante said.
She rounded on him. “No. I’ve waited two years for answers. I’m done waiting.”
“The vault closes in an hour,” Luca said.
“Then we have an hour to get there,” she said. Dante looked at Luca as something silently passed between them. Elena hated that. “No silent mafia conversations.”
Isabella almost smiled, but Dante didn’t. “It could be a trap.”
“So could my apartment,” she said. “The safehouse and the storage units could have all been traps, because apparently my entire life is a trap, Dante.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s exactly why I’m saying we plan this.”
“I am planning this,” she said.
“No, you’re reacting, and that will get you killed,” he said.
“Maybe I’ve earned the right to just react.” He went quiet, and Elena immediately knew she’d won, not because Dante agreed, but because he couldn't argue with that.
Luca closed the laptop. “I’ll call the vault.”
Elena nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’m coming,” Luca said.
Dante’s expression darkened. “So am I.” She looked at him.
For a second, she wanted to say no. She wanted to punish him.
Elena wanted him nowhere near whatever her father had left for her, but then she thought about Hale and about the people hunting her.
She remembered how safe she had felt with Dante before she knew the truth.
That safety hadn’t been a lie. Her feelings hadn’t been a lie either, because complicated didn’t mean false.
“Fine,” she said.
Dante looked surprised. “Fine?”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“I won't.” That was probably the first easy promise he had ever made.
The vault company occupied three floors of an old stone building in Manhattan. There was no sign outside, no advertising, and nothing to suggest millions of dollars in secrets lived behind the heavy brass doors.
Elena sat between Isabella and Dante in the back of Luca’s SUV.
No one spoke. Her father’s key rested in her palm.
Dante’s thigh was inches from hers. She was painfully aware of the space separating them.
Before today, he would have put a hand on her knee, her back, her wrist—something.
Now he kept his hands to himself, and a part of her hated that—and she hated herself for hating it.
The SUV stopped, and Luca looked back. “You ready?”
“No.” Dante’s gaze moved to her, and Elena took a breath. “But I’m going in.”
They entered together. Security was extensive. IDs were checked, phones surrendered, and weapons locked away, which Dante hated so much it almost made Elena smile—almost.
A private attendant led them downstairs. “Mr. Romano listed only one authorized beneficiary,” the woman said.
“Elena Romano,” Dante said.
“Yes.” She glanced at Luca, Dante, and Isabella. “Only Ms. Romano may enter the private viewing room.”
Dante immediately said, “No.”
Elena turned to look at him. “Here we go.”
“It’s not happening,” he said.
The attendant looked uncomfortable. “This is our policy.”
Dante didn’t seem to care. Elena touched his arm, and he froze. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
“It’s a bank vault,” she said. “A private vault.”
“Semantics,” he grumbled. “Elena—"
She lowered her voice. “You said I get to choose.” His expression changed. Damn. She’d used his own words against him, and it seemed to be working.
Dante looked toward the corridor at the two cameras. There was only one security guard, and all the doors would be locked. He seemed to hate every second of it, but he finally nodded. “Five minutes.”
She almost smiled. “You don’t control the vault company and how long it takes them to unlock everything for me.”
“Five minutes,” he said again.
“What happens if I’m longer?” she questioned.
“I come through the door,” Dante said.
The attendant’s eyes widened, and Elena sighed. “He’s kidding.”
Dante looked at her. “No, I’m not.” Of course he wasn’t kidding.
She followed the attendant inside. The viewing room was small and private.
A steel table in the center. The attendant brought in a long metal box.
“Take as much time as you need.” Elena waited until the woman left, and then she inserted the key.
Her hand shook as the lock turned. She lifted the lid, and inside were three things—a stack of documents, a flash drive, and a letter.
Her name was written across the envelope in her father’s handwriting, and Elena felt as though she forgot how to breathe. She reached for it and opened it.
My Elena,
Her eyes filled immediately, but she forced herself to continue.
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you out of the life I never wanted for you.
Elena covered her mouth to muffle the sounds of her sobs.
Crimson Holdings was never meant to make you rich. It was meant to keep you alive.
Her pulse pounded as she read faster.
Four families built the Crimson Empire, but only two intended to honor it. Vincenzo Hale betrayed us before you were born, and Stephen Vale helped him hide the money. I discovered the truth too late.
Elena froze. Hale’s name had a way of popping up when she least expected it to.
I tried to dissolve the Accord. I tried to return what belonged to each family. Hale would not allow it because you were the bond. As long as you lived, his claim to the empire remained valid.