Chapter 3 - THE PHONE IN THE ICE
Nobody moved.
The ringing continued.
Soft.
Electronic.
Almost cheerful.
It was the most ordinary sound imaginable, which somehow made it worse.
Marco reached for the silver champagne bucket.
“Wait.”
My voice surprised even me.
He looked over.
“Why?”
“Because whoever hid a tracker inside a sleeve probably didn’t accidentally leave a phone beside the champagne.”
Luca looked at the bucket.
“Can it be triggered remotely?”
One of the security men answered.
“Anything can.”
Vivien’s face tightened.
“Stop talking like it’s a bomb.”
The security man looked at her.
“You don’t know what it is.”
The phone rang again.
Then stopped.
A second later, a text appeared on the screen beneath the ice.
Even from several feet away, I could see the glow.
Luca motioned.
Marco used a folded towel to lift the phone from the bucket.
The screen displayed one message.
ANSWER NEXT TIME.
Then another appeared.
YOU HAVE THREE MINUTES.
Bastion nearly collapsed again.
“My daughter.”
Luca looked at him.
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
“It could be about Vivien’s sister.”
Vivien turned on him.
“Her name is Celeste.”
I watched Luca.
He absorbed the name without reacting.
“How long has she been missing?”
Vivien’s lips trembled.
“Six days.”
Bastion stared at her.
“You knew?”
She laughed bitterly.
“You think you’re the only person they threatened?”
That changed everything.
For the first time, Bastion stopped looking at Vivien like an enemy.
They looked at each other like prisoners who had just discovered they shared a cell.
The phone rang again.
Two minutes.
Luca held out his hand.
Marco gave him the device.
“No speaker,” Enzo warned.
Luca answered.
He said nothing.
A distorted voice came through the receiver.
“You found the cuff.”
Everyone in the room froze.
Luca’s eyes flicked toward me.
The voice continued.
“That was unfortunate.”
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am.”
“No,” Luca replied. “If I did, you would already be dead.”
The voice laughed.
“I missed that about you.”
That sentence unsettled me.
This wasn’t some distant rival.
Whoever was speaking knew him.
“Vivien,” the voice said. “Are you there?”
She closed her eyes.
Luca held the phone toward her.
She didn’t move.
“Vivien.”
Her shoulders shook once.
“I’m here.”
“Good girl.”
Her face filled with hatred.
“Let me hear Celeste.”
“You don’t make requests.”
“Let me hear her.”
A pause.
Then a woman cried out through the phone.
“Viv?”
Vivien stumbled forward.
“Celeste!”
“I’m okay—I’m okay, don’t—”
The sound cut off.
Vivien pressed both hands over her mouth.
Bastion whispered, “Camille.”
The distorted voice said, “Mr. Vera, your daughter is alive too.”
Bastion grabbed the phone from Luca before anyone could stop him.
“Please. Please, I did everything you asked.”
“No. You failed.”
“I let your man into the workroom!”
“And now Mr. Moretti knows.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“No?”
The voice changed.
Became colder.
“We saw the seamstress open the cuff.”
My skin crawled.
They had seen me.
Not later.
Not through rumor.
They had watched it happen.
I looked around the room.
Mirrors.
Ceiling.
Light fixtures.
Champagne table.
Somewhere inside the penthouse, a camera was watching us.
I turned slowly.
“Luca.”
He understood immediately.
“Find the feed.”
His security team moved.
The voice on the phone chuckled.
“That’s clever, Miss Ward.”
My blood went cold.
He knew my name.
“Elena Ward. Thirty-six years old. Apartment on West Twenty-Second. Mother deceased. Father deceased. No husband. No children.”
I couldn’t breathe for a second.
Luca’s face hardened.
“Say her name again.”
The voice ignored him.
“You should have kept your eyes on the hemline, Elena.”
Luca took the phone from Bastion.
“If you touch her—”
“What?”
The caller sounded amused.
“You’ll kill me?”
Silence.
“You always were predictable, Luca.”
There it was again.
Familiarity.
Luca paced toward the bronze mirrors.
“Why tomorrow?”
“I didn’t call to answer questions.”
“Then you called because you’re nervous.”
Enzo looked sharply at him.
Luca continued.
“The tracker is gone. Your second device is gone. Your exit route is compromised. Bastion is talking. Vivien is terrified. You’re improvising.”
The voice stopped laughing.
“Careful.”
“You called because you needed to know how much I found.”
A pause.
Then Luca smiled.
“You don’t know.”
I realized what he was doing.
The man on the phone didn’t know whether we had found everything.
Luca was making him wonder.
“We found more than you think,” he said.
Enzo’s eyes narrowed.
Marco watched silently.
The distorted voice finally replied.
“Then perhaps you found the message inside the trousers.”
My stomach dropped.
Everyone looked at the garment rack.
A pair of matching black trousers hung beneath a protective cloth.
Luca’s expression didn’t change.
“Of course.”
The caller laughed again.
“You’re lying.”
“So are you.”
Another pause.
Then the voice said, “Eleven forty tomorrow night. North service exit. You will leave through it.”
“No.”
“You will if you want two innocent women to survive.”
Vivien whispered, “Luca.”
He ignored her.
“What stops me from finding them first?”
“Time.”
“What stops me from canceling the wedding?”
“Pride.”
For the first time, anger flickered across Luca’s face.
The caller had struck somewhere personal.
“You think I don’t know you?” the voice continued. “You built your life around never appearing weak. Cancel the wedding after eight hundred guests arrive in this city, and every enemy you have will smell blood.”
Luca said nothing.
“And if you refuse the north exit, Celeste Cross and Camille Vera will pay for your caution.”
Vivien’s eyes filled with tears.
“Please.”
The caller heard her.
“Do not disappoint me again, Vivien.”
The line went dead.
Nobody spoke.
Then one of Luca’s security men shouted from behind the mirror.
“Found something.”
Marco crossed the room.
A tiny camera had been embedded inside the decorative bronze frame.
The red recording light was dark.
“They killed the feed.”
Luca turned to Enzo.
“How did a camera get inside my private fitting room?”
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
“We sweep this room before every appointment.”
“Apparently not well.”
“I’ll find out.”
Luca looked at him for a long moment.
Something passed between them.
Then he turned to me.
“The trousers.”
I walked toward the garment rack.
Vivien grabbed my arm.
I froze.
Her hand was ice cold.
“Don’t.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“I don’t know what’s inside.”
“Neither do I.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t touch them.”
There was no cruelty in her voice now.
Only fear.
She released me immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology stunned me more than the grip.
I took the trousers from the hanger and laid them across the table.
Nothing looked unusual.
I checked the waistband.
The pockets.
The hems.
Then the fly.
Clean.
Bastion came beside me.
His hands were steadier now.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“Feel the left waistband.”
I did.
A slight thickness.
“Canvas?”
“No. These trousers don’t use canvas there.”
We opened the inner waistband.
A narrow strip of photographic film fell out.
Marco held it against the light.
Six photographs.
The first showed Camille Vera leaving her university studio.
The second showed Celeste Cross entering a pharmacy.
The third showed Bastion outside his atelier.
The fourth showed Vivien walking into Luca’s building.
The fifth showed Luca himself.
The sixth showed me.
I stared at it.
It had been taken that morning.
I was entering the service entrance carrying my leather tool case.
Someone had drawn a red X over my face.
Luca took the film.
His expression became unreadable.
I tried to speak casually.
“Apparently I made an impression.”
Nobody smiled.
Luca handed the strip to Marco.
“Move Miss Ward.”
I stiffened.
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“That wasn’t a request.”
“I have work.”
“You have a target on your face.”
“And Bastion’s daughter is missing because of your wedding.”
Bastion turned.
“Elena—”
“No. I’m not going home and pretending this isn’t happening.”
Luca stepped closer.
“You are not trained for this.”
“I’m trained to notice things.”
“That does not make you bulletproof.”
“Neither does being rich.”
Marco coughed, suspiciously close to a laugh.
Luca’s eyes cut toward him.
Marco immediately looked at the ceiling.
I folded my arms.
“You want to find everything hidden in the wedding clothing?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need me.”
“I can bring in another tailor.”
“Not one who knows Bastion’s work. Not one who knows which stitches belong there and which don’t.”
Luca stared at me.
I stared back.
Enzo spoke behind him.
“She’s right.”
Something in Luca’s expression changed.
He didn’t like agreeing.
Especially with me.
Finally he said, “You stay under security.”
“I stay in the workroom.”
“You sleep in my residence.”
I blinked.
“What?”
Vivien stared too.
Luca continued as though he had just announced the weather.
“Your apartment is compromised. They know your address.”
“I can stay with a friend.”
“They probably know your friends.”
“I can stay at a hotel.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide where I sleep.”
“I do tonight.”
My temper flashed.
“Mr. Moretti—”
“Luca.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“If someone has put a red X over your face because you saved my life, you may call me Luca.”
That should not have affected me.
It did.
I looked away first.
“Fine. Luca. You still don’t own me.”
“No.”
His voice lowered.
“But until I know who is watching us, I’m responsible for you.”
Vivien made a strange sound.
I couldn’t tell whether it was anger or pain.
Luca turned toward her.
“You’re coming too.”
She shook her head.
“I have my own security.”
“You had your own security when your sister disappeared.”
That silenced her.
He looked at Bastion.
“You too.”
“My daughter—”
“Marco will work on finding her.”
Bastion’s face broke.
“Can you?”
Luca looked at his security chief.
Marco nodded once.
“We’ll start with the photos.”
Bastion whispered, “Thank you.”
Luca didn’t respond.
He walked toward the sealed doors, then stopped.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“Pack the suit.”
I stared at the mutilated jacket.
“You still plan to wear it?”
“No.”
Something almost human touched his expression.
“I plan to find out why someone worked so hard to make sure I did.”
Twenty minutes later, we were escorted through a private elevator and into an underground garage filled with black vehicles.
I carried Luca’s wedding suit in a garment bag.
Vivien walked several steps behind him.
Bastion looked broken.
Enzo spoke quietly into a phone.
Marco stayed close enough to me that I could hear his breathing.
I thought the danger was inside the penthouse.
I was wrong.
The moment the elevator doors opened, I saw a man in a maintenance uniform standing beside the far concrete column.
He looked at us.
Then at the garment bag in my hand.
His face changed.
Recognition.
I barely had time to say, “Luca—”
The man reached inside his jacket.
Marco moved first.
The garage exploded into motion.
Bodyguards shoved us behind the armored vehicle.
Vivien screamed.
Bastion dropped to the floor.
The stranger ran.
Two guards chased him.
Luca pulled me down behind the wheel well.
His hand locked around my wrist.
“Stay here.”
I looked toward the fleeing man.
Something had fallen from his pocket.
A small spool rolled across the concrete.
It stopped beneath the fluorescent light.
Bright red thread.
I stared at it.
Then at Luca.
“That’s him.”
Luca’s eyes became deadly calm.
“No,” he said.
“What?”
He looked toward the garage exit where the man had disappeared.
May you like
“That’s someone they wanted us to see.”
And seconds later, somewhere above us, an explosion shook the building.
