CHAPTER TWO
Valentina
"Welp... you lied."
"What?" Lindsay asks on the other line.
"You said the handsome mystery man was going to come back and buy out my entire history section today." I glance at the shelves, perfectly stocked and completely undisturbed. "I even started looking at replacement titles. Do you know how long that took?"
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. He didn't come, Lin. Not even a phone call on my desk phone. Not even a carrier pigeon."
She bursts out laughing. "A carrier pigeon?"
"I'm spiraling. What’s a girl to do when she can’t depend on her only rich friend to give her proper advice on rich people?”
“Well, to be fair, I’m your only friend,” she reminds me.
“That’s true.” I lean against the circulation desk. "But I am officially never listening to you again. I much preferred my life before that conversation, when I knew he was out of my league, wrote him off as a daydream, and moved on with my dignity intact."
"Okay, first of all, if he’s foolish enough not to return, it’s his loss. Second of all," she pauses for dramatic effect, "it's only two o'clock."
"Oh, good lord."
"I'm just saying! Don't dispose of those replacement titles yet. He could be busy. Important men have important things. He's probably wrapping up a hostile takeover as we speak and thinking about you the entire time."
I shake my head, but I'm already smiling despite myself. "You are delusional."
"I'm optimistic.”
"But I do have to go,” she says. “I’m walking into a deposition as we speak. Call you later?"
"Sure, good luck.”
"Stay by the door at closing. Just in case he shows up fashionably late."
"Goodbye, Lindsay."
"I believe in you both!"
I hang up still smiling.
The shelves are straight. The returns are sorted. A few of the replacement titles I pulled this morning are still sitting in a neat stack on my desk, quietly judging me.
I put them back.
By five o’clock, I’m locking up, the Catherine de’ Medici biography from yesterday tucked under my arm.
For some reason, my father recommended it to me, so I figured I’d give it a try.
We usually enjoy the same books. I’d planned to leave it here to read between breaks, but at the last minute I decided to take it home instead.
She didn't get to be soft. Or likable. She refused to be powerless.
The words echo in my head as I walk toward my car, keys jingling between my fingers.
The parking lot is nearly empty.
Only my car and a black SUV I don't recognize. It's parked two spaces over. Engine off. Windows tinted. I don't think much of it.
My phone rings and I'm glad to see who it is. I smile automatically as I answer. "Hey, Dad."
"Valentina." His voice is ... different. Not warm or teasing like it normally is.
Something cold slips into my stomach. "What's wrong?"
"I need you to get home. Right now."
“I thought you guys wanted to talk? I just left."
My mother texted me asking me to stop by when I get off, so we can talk about an “urgent matter”.
I assume my sister wants to quit culinary school again.
But I don’t mind since she promised to leave dinner.
I may be many things, but a cook is not one of them.
The leftover lasagna I had delivered last night can wait.
"No. Go home and lock your doors. Do you understand me?" His voice cracks.
Go home and lock my doors? When don’t I lock my doors? I saw a documentary once where a man killed an entire family, and when they asked him why he did, he said it was because the door was open. How wild is that? I mean, I had always locked my doors before then but now, I triple-check.
“Do you you hear me?” my dad asks and my pulse kicks up. "Dad. What's wrong?"
A pause.
Then, lower: "Some men are coming for you." The words don't make sense.
My throat tightens. "Huh? You’re not making any sense dad?" I whisper.
I look up and notice that the SUV's doors are open. Both of them.
But I don't see anyone.
My breath stutters. "Dad —"
"Get in your car. Don't let them box you in. Don't let them follow you."
His breathing is uneven now.
"Be brave, honey."
The line goes dead.
Then...
I hear a footstep behind me. It's close. Too close.
I start to turn, but a hand slams over my mouth, and the world goes black.
* * *
I wake up in a room I don't recognize.
"Where am I?"
It's enormous, too big to feel safe. Elegant in a way that doesn't invite comfort. A chaise lounge sits against the wall, draped in decorative pillows that look untouched, like they exist purely to be admired.
"I must be dreaming," I whisper.
But my pulse is already racing, and fear is too sharp, too real.
This isn't a dream.
The light is dimmed to a warm glow that feels intentional. The bed beneath me is impossibly soft, the sheets crisp and clean. I'm not restrained. I'm not in pain.
I sit up slowly, trying to stay calm, but my heart is slamming against my ribs.
I'm grateful to be fully dressed. There's no blood. No bruises. No ache in my body beyond the tight coil of panic winding through my chest.
The door opens quietly. I suck in a sharp breath and scramble back against the headboard.
A woman steps inside. Mid-fifties, dark hair pulled into a neat bun, dressed in simple black slacks and a cream blouse. Calm. Composed. Freaky as shit.
"Good morning, Valentina," she says gently. "You're awake."
My throat is dry. "Where am I?"
"You're safe," she replies immediately. Too smoothly. "My name is Rosa. I'm here to take care of you."
"I didn't ask if I was safe." My voice shakes. "I asked where I am."
She pauses, then answers honestly. "You're at a Vitale property."
"I'm where?" I ask, trying to sound calm, but my hands are visibly shaking. Vitale? Why does that name sound so familiar?
My mind drifts to a faint memory of me in Lindsay's office when I brought her breakfast once. She told me she was working on a huge case against a dangerous criminal empire, but kept hitting brick walls. Then I remember looking at the file and seeing the name... Vitale.
After that, I'd ask her about it from time to time, but she never really said much. Her father had them under his radar also, but he never shares that information publicly. Not everything, anyway. Only with Lindsay.
And Lindsay, unfortunately, or fortunately, in this moment, has a very big mouth. I know this family.
The Vitales have controlled certain aspects of this city for decades. Quietly. Methodically. She said their influence stretches through politicians, business owners, and even law enforcement. The kind of power that doesn't need to announce itself because everyone already knows.
Which means one thing is very clear. Whoever took me didn't make a mistake. They knew exactly what they were doing.
And as terrifying as that realization is, there's a strange sense of clarity that comes with it. At least I’m aware of who has me.
The only question left is, why? What the hell do they want with a freaking boring librarian?
My pulse spikes. “I want my phone."
She nods and reaches into her pocket, handing it out to me. "Of course."
That surprises me enough that I hesitate.
"You're... giving it to me?"
"Yes," she says. "Mr. Vitale asked that you be given your phone. He wants you to hear from your family before your meeting."
I snatch it from her hand and dial without thinking.
Mom.
She answers on the second ring, already crying.
"Valentina?" Her voice breaks. "Oh God, are you okay? Where are you?"
"I don't know, some Vitale property," I whisper. "They took me. I woke up here. Mom, do you know what's going on?"
"Did they hurt you?" she sobs.
"No. I'm fine. I think." I glance at Rosa, who stands quietly by the door, giving us privacy without leaving. "Mom, should I call the police?"
There's a sharp inhale on the other end.
Before my mother can answer, Rosa speaks softly.
"I wouldn't recommend that."
I cover the phone. "Excuse me?"
She meets my eyes, no threat, no cruelty. Certainty.
"The police can't help you here," she says. "And calling them would make things... much harder for your family."
My stomach drops.
"Did your father contact you?"
I look through my call log but I don’t see any missed calls from him. Then I pull up my messages and I see he sent me a message early morning. "I'm sorry, honey, I'm so sorry."
"Mom, what's going on? What's Dad apologizing for? Should I call him?"
"Valentina, listen to me. Whatever he tells you about our family, about… my family, I need you to hear my side first. Promise me. Don't believe everything he says until we talk."
“If you know what’s going on, you need to tell me.” There’s a pause. A sharp breath.
Then her voice drops, trembling but firm. "Listen to me. I promise, I will tell you everything okay. Just… play their game," she says. "Pretend. Smile. Do whatever you have to do. We'll get you out of this."
Their game.
"Mom?"
"I have to go," she says quickly. "Stay off your phone. Don't talk to anyone. I'm coming to see you as soon as I can."
The line goes dead.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath, pacing once across the room before stopping short, heat crawling up my neck.
Rosa inclines her head slightly. "You should get some rest. Dinner will be brought to you soon."
My hands are shaking. "What do you guys want from me?" I ask.
Rosa's expression softens. "Relax, get some rest and I'll come see you soon, okay?"
"What am I supposed to do now?”
"Eat. You’ll need your energy.”
“No. I… I want to go home.” She just stands there unfazed, meanwhile, I feel my entire world caving in.
"Ms. Marino, relax. We want you calm, rested, and presentable."
"For what?"
She opens the door and gestures down the hall.
"To meet Mr. Vitale of course."