Chapter 4 - THE SAFE HOUSE WITH GLASS WALLS
The explosion wasn’t large enough to bring down the building.
That almost made it worse.
It had been precise.
Controlled.
Designed to frighten rather than destroy.
Dust drifted from the concrete ceiling as the emergency lights flashed red.
Marco shouted orders.
Two guards dragged Bastion behind an SUV.
Vivien crouched beside him, one hand over her ears.
Luca didn’t move from where he had positioned himself between me and the open garage.
Not beside me.
In front of me.
That detail lodged somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.
“Was that upstairs?” I asked.
“Loading level,” Marco answered.
His phone buzzed.
He checked it.
“Freight elevator.”
Bastion’s face went gray.
“My atelier shipment came through the freight elevator.”
Luca turned toward him.
“What shipment?”
“The wedding party garments. They were delivered this morning.”
“How many?”
“Twenty-three pieces.”
I stared at him.
“Twenty-three?”
“Groomsmen. Ushers. Family. Two evening jackets. The rehearsal coats.”
My stomach sank.
If one suit could carry three hidden objects, twenty-three garments weren’t clothes anymore.
They were a field full of traps.
Luca looked at Marco.
“Where are they?”
“Already moved to the estate.”
The stranger in the garage had vanished.
The explosion had pulled security toward the freight levels.
That was the point.
A distraction.
Luca saw it too.
“We leave now.”
Enzo approached from the far side.
“I disagree.”
Luca looked at him.
“This building is compromised,” Enzo said. “Moving during an active security event exposes you.”
“Staying in a compromised building exposes everyone.”
“We can lock down the penthouse.”
“They had a camera inside it.”
Enzo’s mouth tightened.
I watched the two men.
There was no open hostility between them.
Yet.
But Luca had begun looking at his adviser differently.
“Cars,” Luca ordered.
Enzo didn’t argue again.
Within minutes, I found myself inside the rear seat of an armored SUV beside Bastion, while Luca and Marco sat opposite us.
Vivien traveled in another vehicle.
Enzo in a third.
The convoy left through a service ramp and entered evening traffic.
I had never been inside a vehicle that felt like a bank vault.
Thick glass.
Black leather.
No exterior handles visible from my seat.
It should have made me feel safe.
Instead, I felt trapped.
Bastion leaned forward.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“For bringing you into this.”
“You didn’t know I’d be there today.”
“I asked you to cover for Daniel.”
“Because Daniel was sick.”
He looked down.
“No.”
The word came quietly.
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Daniel isn’t sick.”
Luca’s attention sharpened.
Bastion rubbed both hands over his face.
“I was told Daniel could not work today.”
“By whom?” Marco asked.
“The same people who took Camille.”
My pulse quickened.
“They wanted me there?”
“No.” Bastion looked at me. “They wanted Daniel gone. They told me to use someone from the secondary tailoring staff.”
“There are six of us.”
“I know.”
“But you called me.”
His shame told me the answer before he did.
“Why me?”
Bastion whispered, “Because they gave me your name.”
The SUV suddenly felt much smaller.
Luca leaned forward.
“They specifically requested Elena?”
Bastion nodded.
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something.”
“I swear to God, Elena, I don’t.”
I wanted to be furious.
Instead, I felt cold.
The photograph with the red X hadn’t been taken because I accidentally discovered the tracker.
They knew I would be at the fitting before I ever arrived.
Someone had arranged it.
Luca looked out through the darkened glass.
“This began before today.”
Marco nodded.
“They anticipated her presence.”
“Or needed it,” Luca said.
I turned toward him.
“Needed me for what?”
He looked back at me.
“I don’t know yet.”
I hated those words.
We drove north for almost forty minutes before entering a gated property surrounded by old trees and stone walls.
I expected a mansion.
I got something stranger.
The Moretti residence looked like a modern museum built inside the shell of an old estate—limestone wings surrounding a central structure of black steel and glass.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Almost impossible to approach unseen.
We passed two checkpoints before the vehicle stopped beneath a covered entrance.
Marco opened my door.
“Welcome home.”
I stared at him.
“This is not my home.”
He gave me the first real smile I had seen all day.
“People say that a lot on the first night.”
Luca heard him.
“Marco.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Stop helping.”
Marco’s smile disappeared.
“Absolutely.”
Inside, staff moved with quiet efficiency.
No one stared at Luca.
No one rushed.
It was obvious they were accustomed to emergencies that would ruin normal people’s lives.
A housekeeper led Bastion away to a guest room.
Vivien arrived five minutes later and refused assistance.
Enzo disappeared into Luca’s study with three security officers.
I stayed in the entrance hall holding the garment bag.
Luca looked at it.
Then at me.
“You’re still carrying that.”
“It’s evidence.”
“I have people for evidence.”
“Your people missed the camera.”
Marco made another coughing sound.
Luca glared at him.
Marco walked away.
I almost smiled.
Luca pointed toward a wide hallway.
“Come.”
We entered a room larger than Bastion’s entire atelier.
Long worktables.
Adjustable lights.
Clothing racks.
Steam equipment.
Mirrors.
I stopped.
“You have a tailoring room?”
“My father believed a man should never be forced to leave home because a button fell off.”
“That may be the most billionaire sentence I’ve ever heard.”
Luca gave me a look.
“Technically, he wasn’t a billionaire.”
“Then I apologize for insulting his restraint.”
For half a second, something moved near Luca’s mouth.
Then it vanished.
The wedding party garments were already waiting on three racks.
Twenty-three pieces.
Black jackets.
Charcoal trousers.
Formal coats.
A midnight-blue dinner jacket.
Each labeled.
I set Luca’s damaged suit down.
“We inspect everything.”
He nodded.
“I’ll get you help.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“I need people who know construction.”
“Bastion?”
“He’s too shaken.”
“Then who?”
“Me.”
“That could take hours.”
“I’m aware.”
Luca checked his watch.
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m also aware.”
He walked toward the door.
“I’ll send food.”
“I don’t need—”
He left.
I stared after him.
Ten minutes later, a tray arrived containing soup, bread, grilled chicken, coffee, and enough fruit to feed a small wedding.
I ate the bread while working.
One jacket.
Nothing.
Second jacket.
Nothing.
Third.
Wrong.
A line of hand stitching beneath the lapel was slightly tighter than Bastion’s standard work.
I opened it.
Inside was a tiny printed card.
Not a device.
A number.
I called Marco.
He came with Luca.
“What does seventeen mean?” Marco asked.
“No idea.”
We checked the garment label.
It belonged to a groomsman named Andrew Colson.
Marco’s expression changed.
Luca noticed.
“What?”
“Colson controls the south garage team tomorrow.”
Luca looked at the number again.
“Seventeen.”
We continued.
The next altered garment belonged to another groomsman.
Inside his collar was the number 4.
He supervised guest transportation.
The next held 31.
Private security communications.
By midnight, we found eight numbered cards hidden inside eight garments.
Every garment belonged to someone connected to movement, security, or access.
This was not random.
“It’s a map,” I said.
Marco frowned.
“Not a physical one.”
“A responsibility map.”
Luca leaned over the table.
“They’re marking people.”
“For what?”
His answer was quiet.
“Replacement.”
I stared at him.
“Replacement?”
“Bribe them. Threaten them. Remove them. Whatever is necessary. The numbers may identify the order.”
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face hardened.
“Boss.”
Luca turned.
“We found Rosa Delgado.”
Bastion entered the room at that moment.
“Is she alive?”
Marco hesitated.
“Yes.”
Relief flooded the room.
Then he added, “But she’s in the hospital.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Hit by a car this morning.”
I stopped breathing.
“Accident?”
“No.”
Marco looked at me.
“Witness says the vehicle followed her onto the sidewalk.”
Luca’s gaze dropped to the red thread lying beside the damaged cuff.
“Can she speak?”
“Doctors say briefly.”
“I’m going.”
“So am I,” I said.
“No.”
I stared at Luca.
“She may have seen the person who altered the suit.”
“And whoever hit her may be waiting for you.”
“That’s why you have all those men with guns.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You have a remarkable ability to make security sound decorative.”
“Today it mostly has been.”
Marco turned away, definitely hiding a smile.
Luca sighed.
“Five minutes.”
“To what?”
“Change.”
I looked down at my chalk-covered black work trousers and white shirt.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been wearing those for fourteen hours.”
“Are you offended?”
“I’m concerned the shirt may legally qualify as a new color.”
I looked at him.
He looked back.
Then something strange happened.
I laughed.
It escaped before I could stop it.
A real laugh.
In the middle of kidnapping, trackers, hidden cameras, and attempted murder, Luca Moretti had made me laugh.
He seemed as surprised as I was.
Then the door opened.
Vivien stood there.
She had heard it.
Her face changed.
Not jealousy exactly.
Something more complicated.
Grief.
“Luca,” she said.
He turned.
She held a phone.
Not the phone from the champagne bucket.
Her own.
“I received a photograph.”
His expression sharpened.
She crossed the room and showed him.
I shouldn’t have looked.
I did.
Celeste Cross sat in a dark room holding a newspaper from that evening.
Alive.
Terrified.
Around her neck was a narrow strip of red fabric.
A message was written across the photograph.
BRING THE SEAMSTRESS TO THE WEDDING.
NO ELENA. NO CELESTE.
My stomach turned.
Luca stared at the image for several seconds.
Then he lifted his eyes to me.
For once, there was no command in his face.
No arrogance.
Only a question he didn’t want to ask.
I answered before he could.
“I’m going.”
Vivien shook her head.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“They want you.”
“I noticed.”
“You don’t understand these people.”
“Neither do you, apparently.”
She flinched.
I regretted it immediately.
Luca stepped between us.
“Enough.”
Vivien’s voice cracked.
“My sister is twenty-four years old. She has nothing to do with Luca. Nothing to do with me. They took her because they knew I would do anything.”
Her eyes filled.
“Wouldn’t you?”
I had no answer.
She looked at me.
“I hated you this afternoon because you saw the stitch.”
I stared.
“I thought if the plan failed, Celeste would die.”
“So you knew about the tracker.”
“I knew there was something in the suit. I didn’t know what.”
“Why didn’t you warn Luca?”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Because the photograph they sent me showed a gun against my sister’s head.”
The room went still.
She looked at Luca.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t move toward her.
That hurt her more than anger would have.
“What else did they ask you to do?” he said.
Vivien closed her eyes.
“Make sure you stayed at the reception until the fireworks.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Her voice dropped.
“They told me that at eleven thirty-five, I had to ask Elena Ward to come upstairs and fix my dress.”
I felt the room tilt.
Luca’s face went completely still.
“Why?”
Vivien looked at me.
“I don’t know.”
My heart began pounding.
She swallowed.
“But whatever happens tomorrow night, Luca…”
Her eyes returned to him.
“…the north service exit isn’t meant for you.”
May you like
She pointed at me.
“It’s meant for her.”
