Chapter 9
SCARLETT
“Mama, when we get to New York, will there be pizza?”
I look at Luca buckled into the cream leather seat across from me, his legs swinging because they don’t reach the floor yet. His eyes are bright with excitement, completely oblivious to the fact that we left our entire life behind this morning with just two suitcases.
“I’m sure there will be lots of pizza, baby.”
“And the Statue of Liberty? Can we see it?”
“Maybe. We’ll see what my friend has planned.”
He grins and goes back to looking out the window at the clouds passing below us. So trusting. So innocent. Five years old and the world is still full of adventures instead of dangers.
I wish I could keep it that way forever.
The private jet is beautiful in that excessive way that screams wealth and power I can’t begin to comprehend.
Everything is cream and gold and polished wood.
The seats are softer than my bed at home.
There’s a flight attendant who keeps offering us gourmet sandwiches and fresh fruit and asking if we need anything else.
This is Dante’s world. This luxury, this excess, this casual display of money that most people will never see in their entire lives.
And I’m flying straight into it with his son.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
I press them flat against my thighs and try to breathe steadily. Try to keep the panic off my face so Luca doesn’t notice.
“Mama?” He’s looking at me now with those storm-grey eyes that are going to give everything away the second Dante sees them. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little nervous about the flight.”
“But it’s so smooth!”
“You’re right. It’s very smooth.”
He studies me for another moment, then seems satisfied and goes back to the window.
I told him we were going on a vacation. Told him my friend from before he was born had invited us to New York for the summer, and it would be an adventure, just the two of us exploring the big city.
The lies came so easily. Too easily.
But what was I supposed to say? “We’re running for our lives, baby. The other women who were trapped with me six years ago are all dead and we’re probably next. So we’re going to stay with a dangerous man who kills people for a living and hope he doesn’t murder us when he finds out you’re his son.”
No. Better to let him think this is an adventure.
Better to let him stay innocent for as long as possible.
“Tell me about your friend again,” Luca says, turning back to me. “The one we’re visiting.”
I’ve told him this story three times already since we got on the plane, but he loves hearing about people. Loves building pictures in his mind of who they are and what they’re like.
“His name is Dante. He’s someone I knew a long time ago, before you were born.”
“Is he nice?”
The question makes my chest tight.
Nice? Dante Moretti? The man who put three bullets in Antonio Marchetti without blinking? Who looked at me with empty eyes and told me to disappear?
But also the man who could have killed me and didn’t. Who let me run when he should have finished the job.
“He’s…complicated,” I say carefully. “But he’s very smart and very powerful. And he’ll keep us safe while we’re visiting.”
“Safe from what?”
Damn. He’s too observant sometimes.
“Just safe in general. New York is a big city. It’s good to have a friend who knows it well.”
Luca nods like this makes perfect sense. “Does he have any kids?”
The question throws me off balance, and for a moment, I’m at a loss for words.
“No,” I manage. “No kids.”
Not that he knows about, anyway.
God, what am I doing? What am I walking us into?
Six years. Six years I’ve kept this secret. Six years of telling myself I made the right choice by running, by hiding, by raising Luca alone.
And now I’m about to destroy all of that because I’m desperate and terrified and out of options.
Tom’s folder is in my purse. The newspaper clippings about five dead women. Five accidents that weren’t accidents. Five murders staged to look like natural causes.
Someone is hunting us down systematically. And I’m the last one left.
I couldn’t stay in Portland. Couldn’t keep pretending we were safe when clearly we weren’t. That SUV that tried to run us off the road was a message. “We know where you are.”
So I called the only person I could think of who might be powerful enough to protect us.
And lied about having information I don’t actually have.
I don’t know anything. I was too busy fighting for my life that night to pay attention to whatever Antonio said before he died. I didn’t see where any ledger was hidden. I don’t have any valuable secrets.
But Dante doesn’t know that yet.
And by the time he figures out I’m lying, hopefully he’ll care enough about Luca that he won’t throw us out.
Or worse.
“Mama, you’re doing it again.”
I blink and focus on Luca. “Doing what?”
“Looking sad. You keep looking sad and then pretending you’re not when I ask about it.”
Smart kid. Too smart sometimes.
“I’m just thinking about grown-up stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Is it about your friend, Dante? Are you nervous about seeing him again?”
“A little bit, yes.”
“Why? If he’s your friend, shouldn’t you be happy?”
How do I explain this? How do I make him understand without scaring him?
“Sometimes friends don’t see each other for a long time,” I say slowly. “And when they finally meet again, it can feel strange. Like you’re not sure how things will be between you anymore.”
Luca considers this seriously. “Like when I didn’t see Aiden all summer and then when school started he had different glasses and liked different games?”
“Exactly like that.”
“But you were still friends after you got used to the changes, right?”
“Right.”
“So it’ll be okay with Dante too.”
If only it were that simple.
The flight attendant appears with a tray of cookies and milk. “I thought the little man might like a snack before we land.”
Luca’s eyes light up. “Chocolate chip!”
“Your favorite, I hear.”
He takes the cookie and milk with both hands, already biting into it. “Thank you!”
The attendant smiles at me. “We’ll be landing in about forty-five minutes. Is there anything else you need, Miss Miller?”
“No, thank you. We’re fine.”
She disappears back toward the front of the plane.
Forty-five minutes. In forty-five minutes, we land. In an hour, I see Dante again for the first time in six years.
In an hour, he sees Luca.
My stomach churns and I close my eyes.
There’s no hiding it. No pretending. The Moretti genes are too strong. One look at Luca’s face and Dante will know exactly what I’ve kept from him.
And then what?
Will he be angry? Will he hate me for keeping his son secret? Will he try to take Luca away from me?
Or will he not care at all?
That might be worse somehow. The idea that he’ll look at Luca and feel nothing. That his own son will just be another complication in his dangerous world.
“Mama?”
I open my eyes. Luca is watching me again with cookie crumbs on his face.
“Yes, baby?”
“I think your friend is going to like you. You’re the best mama in the world. Everyone likes you.”
The innocence in his voice makes my eyes burn.
“Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very kind of you to say.”
“It’s true! You make the best pancakes and you always read me extra stories at bedtime and you give the best hugs.”
“Come here.”
He climbs out of his seat and crawls into my lap, wrapping his small arms around my neck. I hold him tight and breathe in the scent of his shampoo and cookies and little boy.
This is why I’m doing this. This is why I’m walking back into Dante’s world after six years of running.
Because Luca is everything. And I will do whatever it takes to keep him safe.
Even if it means facing the man I’ve been terrified of for six years.
Even if it means telling the truth about what I’ve kept hidden.
Even if it destroys me in the process.
“I love you so much,” I whisper into his hair.
“I love you too, Mama.”
The plane begins its descent and Luca climbs back into his seat, pressing his face against the window to watch the ground get closer.
“Look! I can see buildings! So many buildings!”
“That’s New York City.”
“It’s huge! Way bigger than Portland!”
“It is. You have to hold my hand tight when we’re walking around, okay? I don’t want you getting lost.”
“I promise.” He’s practically bouncing in his seat now. “Can we go to Times Square? I saw it in a movie once and it had all these lights!”
“Maybe. We’ll see what Dante has planned for us.”
The landing is smooth. Professional. The kind of landing you get when you fly private instead of commercial.
The flight attendant opens the door and humid summer air rushes in. It’s July in New York and the heat sits heavy, thick and oppressive in a way Portland never gets.
“Come on, baby.” I take Luca’s hand and we walk down the stairs onto the tarmac.
And there he is.
Dante Moretti stands next to a black SUV with two men in suits flanking him, and every cell in my body screams at me to run.
He looks different than I remember. Older. Harder. The six years have carved away anything soft and left behind something dangerous and sharp. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black suit that probably costs more than I make in six months, and he wears it like armor.
But his eyes are exactly the same.
Storm-grey and intense and locked on me like I’m the only thing in the world that exists.
The attraction hits me immediately and I hate it. Hate that my body remembers him. Hate that even terrified and desperate, I can still feel the pull between us.
I force myself to walk toward him even though Luca’s hand tightens in mine.
“Mama,” he whispers, pressing against my leg. “That man looks really serious.”
“He’s just…that’s how he always looks. It’s okay.”
We stop a few feet away and I meet Dante’s eyes. Try to read his expression. Try to see any hint of the man who let me go six years ago.
His face gives nothing away.
“Scarlett.” His voice is exactly as I remember. Rough and gravelly, saying my name like something he hasn’t allowed himself to say in a long time.
“Dante.” I try to keep my voice steady. “Thank you for sending the plane. The flight was—”
But he’s not looking at me anymore.
His gaze drops to Luca and everything stops.
I watch his eyes widen fractionally. Watch him take in every detail of Luca’s face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. Watch recognition dawn even though he’s never seen this child before in his life.
Because Luca looks exactly like him.
The same dark hair. The same bone structure that will sharpen as he grows. And especially the eyes.
Storm-grey eyes identical to his father’s stare up at Dante with a mix of nervousness and curiosity.
Oh god.
Dante crouches down slowly until he’s eye level with Luca, and I want to grab my son and run. Want to put myself between them. Want to do anything except stand here and watch this happen.
“Hi there.” His voice is softer when he speaks to Luca. Gentler than I’ve ever heard it. “What’s your name?”
Luca looks up at me and I nod even though every instinct screams at me to lie.
“Luca,” my son says quietly. “Luca Miller.”
“Luca.” Dante repeats it like he’s memorizing it. Testing how it feels in his mouth. “That’s a good name. How old are you, Luca?”
“Five and a half.”
I see Dante’s jaw tighten slightly. The math is impossible to ignore.
“Five and a half,” he says softly. “That’s a good age.”
Encouraged, Luca puffs his chest. “Mana said I’ll be six soon.”
“That’s right,” Dante concurs.
Luca tilts his head, studying Dante with that fearless curiosity only five-year-olds have. Then his eyes widen. “You have the same eyes as me! Look, Mama! We have matching eyes!”
The observation is so unexpected, so perfectly innocent, that I see something flicker in Dante’s expression. Something that might be surprise or pain or wonder.
“We do,” Dante says quietly.
“That’s so cool! Nobody else has eyes like mine. The kids at school all have brown or blue. But yours are grey like mine!” He grins. “Does that mean we’re related? Mama says people who look alike are sometimes related.”
Dante’s gaze flicks to me for just a second. I see the question there. The accusation.
Then he looks back at Luca. “Maybe we are.”
“Really?” Luca’s whole face lights up. “That would be awesome! I always wanted a…” He pauses, thinking. “What would you be? My uncle? My cousin?”
The silence stretches too long.
“We can talk about that later,” Dante finally says. “Right now, I bet you’re tired from your trip. Would you like to see where you’ll be staying? I have a big house with lots of rooms to explore.”
“Do you really have dogs? Mama says I can’t have a dog because our apartment is too small. But you have a house! Does that mean you have dogs?”
And just like that, the tension breaks slightly. Leave it to a five-year-old to ask about pets in the middle of the most terrifying moment of my life.
“I do have dogs,” Dante says. “Two German Shepherds. Maybe you can meet them later if your mama says it’s okay.”
“Can I, Mama? Please?”
“We’ll see, baby.”
Dante stands slowly, and when his eyes meet mine again, that moment of softness is gone. His expression has gone completely blank. Carefully, deliberately blank in a way that’s somehow worse than anger.
“We should go.” His voice is flat. “Let’s get you both settled.”
He turns toward the SUV without waiting for a response.
I pick up Luca’s hand and follow because what choice do I have? I came here for protection and now I’m committed to whatever happens next.
One of the suited men opens the back door and I climb in with Luca beside me. The interior smells like leather and expensive cologne.
Dante gets in the driver’s seat. The guards climb into a second SUV behind us.
The door closes.
We’re trapped together now. Me, Luca, and the man who just realized he has a son he never knew about.