Chapter 2 - THE BRIDE WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE
I had heard confessions from men with guns pressed against their heads.
I'd heard enemies bargain with their children's names.
I'd heard dying men suddenly discover religion.
Nothing sounded like Sophia when she said those six words.
They sent me here to die.
I stared at her.
"Explain."
She shook her head.
"I can't."
"You can."
"No, you don't understand."
"Then make me understand."
Her breathing became shallow.
I could see panic building.
I forced myself to stay where I was.
No grabbing.
No cornering.
No raised voice.
Every instinct that had kept me alive in my world was useless with her because fear didn't make Sophia talk.
Fear made her disappear while still standing in front of you.
So I sat down.
That surprised her.
I pointed toward the opposite chair.
"You don't have to tell me anything standing up."
She didn't move.
"You don't have to tell me today."
That finally got her attention.
"What?"
"But there's a weapon one floor below us with your initials carved into the grip."
Her face crumpled.
"That's not mine."
"I believe you."
She stared.
I continued.
"I also believe someone wants me to think it is."
She slowly sat.
"Did your father tell you there would be an attack?"
"No."
"Your aunt?"
She closed her eyes.
There.
Teresa.
"What did Teresa tell you?"
Sophia pressed both hands around her elbows.
"Two nights ago she came into my room."
"What did she say?"
"That once the marriage was... completed... I needed to leave the bedroom around three-thirty."
My jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"She said there would be people waiting."
"For you?"
Sophia nodded.
"To take you home?"
Another pause.
"I thought so."
"You don't anymore."
She shook her head.
"What changed?"
"I heard her talking to my brother afterward."
"Name."
"Enzo."
I knew Enzo Bellucci.
Thirty-one.
Vittorio's oldest son.
A man born with his father's cruelty and none of his discipline.
He'd once beaten a bartender nearly unconscious because the man had refused to serve him after closing.
"What did Enzo say?"
Sophia looked at the broken coffee cup.
"He asked if the gun would be found."
"And Teresa?"
"She said it had to be."
My hands curled.
Sophia whispered, "Then Enzo said you wouldn't survive the first shot."
The pieces moved together quickly.
Too quickly.
A marriage to end a war.
A gun with Sophia's initials.
A disabled camera.
A bride instructed to leave the room moments before an attack.
If I'd died, the DeLucas would have found the weapon.
They would have blamed Sophia.
Sophia would conveniently disappear.
My family would retaliate.
War resumed.
Except the Belluccis would now be positioned inside several businesses and territories we'd agreed to combine under the treaty.
This wasn't peace.
It was acquisition.
"Why didn't you tell me last night?"
Sophia gave me a look so tired it made her seem older than twenty.
"Would you have believed me?"
"Yes."
"You didn't know me."
"I know when people are afraid."
"Men like you aren't supposed to care why."
That one landed.
She wasn't wrong.
I had spent years allowing people to believe the worst about me because fear was cheaper than funerals.
Now the reputation protecting my empire had convinced my own wife that warning me was useless.
"Did they tell you I would hurt you?"
Her silence answered.
"Who?"
"My entire life," she whispered, "I heard stories about DeLucas."
"So did I. Half of them are entertaining."
She didn't smile.
"Enzo said you broke a man's hands because he touched your car."
"He was planting a tracking device underneath it."
She looked surprised.
"Teresa said you killed your first fiancée."
"I've never had a fiancée."
"She said you kept women locked in your house."
"My grandmother lives there. She locks everyone else out."
Sophia blinked.
I leaned forward.
"Listen carefully. Your family needed you afraid of me."
"Why?"
"So you wouldn't warn me."
Her eyes filled again.
"They knew I heard them."
"Probably."
"Then why send me?"
I knew the answer.
I hated it.
"Because dead witnesses don't talk."
Sophia's lower lip trembled.
She looked down quickly.
"I thought if I did everything they told me, maybe they'd leave Isabella alone."
"Who's Isabella?"
"My sister."
I knew Vittorio had two daughters but had seen Isabella only once.
"How old?"
"Seventeen."
The answer sharpened everything.
"Where is she?"
"At my father's house."
"Does she know about this?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"I tried to tell her something yesterday, but Teresa stayed with us the whole morning."
"Do they hurt her?"
Sophia's head lifted.
"Not yet."
Not yet.
Two words that carried years of history.
I stood.
She flinched.
I hated that.
"I'm calling Marco."
"Why?"
"I'm bringing Isabella here."
Sophia jumped up.
"No."
"Why?"
"My father will know I told you."
"He already intended to kill you."
"You don't understand him."
"And he doesn't understand me."
"Matteo, please."
It was the first time she'd used my name.
I stopped.
Sophia came closer.
"Please don't attack my father's house."
"I didn't say I was going to attack it."
"Then how will you get Isabella?"
I looked at her.
"I'm going to invite your family to breakfast."
She stared.
"You're joking."
"No."
"They tried to kill you."
"Allegedly."
"You believe me."
"I do."
"Then why would you sit at a table with them?"
"Because people lie differently when they believe they've succeeded."
Twenty minutes later, Marco arrived.
He entered with two men, saw the broken coffee cup, saw Sophia, saw the bandage on my arm, and raised an eyebrow.
I ignored him.
"Nobody leaves the hotel."
"We already sealed the service exits."
"Quietly?"
"As quietly as twenty armed men can seal a hotel."
"Good."
I explained what Sophia had told me.
Marco's face changed.
He'd known me since we were twelve.
When Marco became silent, someone usually had a terrible day.
He looked at Sophia.
"Can you identify the gun?"
"I've never seen it."
"Initials are professionally carved. Fresh."
She swallowed.
"I don't own a gun."
"I know."
She looked at him.
"How?"
Marco shrugged.
"Your father would never teach someone he wanted helpless how to defend herself."
Sophia looked as if he'd slapped her with the truth.
Marco glanced at me.
"Breakfast?"
"Private dining room. Eight-thirty."
"And the Belluccis?"
"Invite Vittorio, Enzo, Teresa and Isabella."
Marco smiled without humor.
"All together."
"All together."
Sophia whispered, "My father won't bring Isabella."
"Then we'll learn something before breakfast even starts."
At eight twenty-nine, Vittorio Bellucci entered the private dining room.
He wore a black suit and a satisfied expression.
Enzo followed.
Teresa came third.
Isabella didn't come at all.
Sophia was seated beside me.
The instant Vittorio saw her, something passed between them.
Sophia lowered her eyes.
Vittorio smiled.
"Good morning, daughter."
She said nothing.
His gaze moved to me.
"Marriage already teaching her bad manners?"
"Actually, I'm encouraging them."
Enzo laughed.
Teresa didn't.
Vittorio sat.
"You requested breakfast."
"I did."
A waiter poured coffee.
Nobody touched it.
I gestured toward the empty chair.
"Where's Isabella?"
Vittorio barely reacted.
"Unwell."
"What's wrong with her?"
"A fever."
Sophia looked at me.
"Convenient," I said.
Vittorio's expression cooled.
"Why are you concerned with my younger daughter when you've only just married the elder?"
"Family."
"You've known Sophia less than twenty-four hours."
"Long enough."
Vittorio looked at Sophia again.
"Did you sleep well?"
She stiffened.
I saw the meaning behind the question.
He wanted to know whether she'd followed instructions.
"Extremely," I said.
His attention returned to me.
"Good."
"Your sister came by this morning," I added.
Teresa's fingers stopped beside her coffee.
"She collected something."
Vittorio's mouth curved.
"Tradition."
"Right."
I watched Enzo.
He was trying not to look pleased.
I leaned back.
"Interesting thing about traditions."
Nobody spoke.
"Sometimes people get so focused on old rituals that they forget modern hotels have cameras everywhere."
Enzo's expression changed.
Barely.
Enough.
Vittorio remained still.
"Is there a point?"
"Someone disabled a camera outside the service elevator last night."
Teresa went pale.
Sophia's hands disappeared beneath the table.
I continued.
"A weapon was found."
Enzo reached for his coffee.
His cup rattled once against the saucer.
"And?" Vittorio asked.
"It had Sophia's initials."
Silence.
Then Vittorio slowly turned toward his daughter.
"Sophia."
She shrank back.
I placed my hand flat on the table.
Not on her.
Between them.
"Don't."
Vittorio looked at me.
"I was addressing my daughter."
"My wife."
His eyes hardened.
The first crack in the peace treaty appeared right there.
Not over money.
Not territory.
Pronouns.
"Are you accusing my family?" Vittorio asked.
"I'm explaining what my men found."
"Then perhaps you should ask your bride why her gun was outside your room."
Sophia stared at him.
"You know I don't own one."
His face remained blank.
"I know no such thing."
Her hurt became visible.
Even though she expected betrayal, some piece of her had apparently hoped her father wouldn't do it this easily.
Enzo leaned forward.
"If she tried something, Matteo, we'll handle it."
Sophia's head snapped toward him.
Handle it.
There was no mistaking the threat.
I smiled.
"That's generous."
Enzo relaxed slightly.
"Family should discipline its own."
"Agreed."
I reached into my jacket.
Every Bellucci man in the room tensed.
I pulled out my phone.
Marco had sent the image ten minutes earlier.
I placed it on the table.
A photograph of the pistol.
Vittorio glanced at it.
Then looked away.
But Teresa stared too long.
I saw recognition.
"So," Vittorio said, "what now?"
"Now we eat."
He frowned.
"That's all?"
"That's all."
The Belluccis exchanged looks.
They believed I'd missed something.
I hadn't.
The gun wasn't the evidence I needed.
Their reactions were.
Breakfast lasted twenty-three minutes.
Then Vittorio stood.
"My daughter will visit us tomorrow."
Sophia went rigid.
"No," I said.
Vittorio smiled.
"She has responsibilities."
"She'll decide."
He looked at Sophia.
"Then decide."
It wasn't a request.
The room seemed to get smaller.
Sophia stared at her father.
Her face was pale.
Her hands shook.
But slowly, she lifted her chin.
"No."
Vittorio's smile disappeared.
It was the first act of defiance I'd seen from her.
And judging by his expression, perhaps the first he'd seen too.
He stepped closer.
"You should think carefully."
I stood.
"So should you."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Marco entered.
He didn't knock.
He crossed directly toward me and whispered something.
My eyes went to Sophia.
She noticed.
"What?"
Marco didn't answer.
Sophia stood.
"What happened?"
I turned toward Vittorio.
"Your younger daughter doesn't have a fever."
His face changed.
Just slightly.
I continued.
"Because Isabella isn't at your house."
Sophia stopped breathing.
Vittorio said nothing.
"Where is she?" Sophia whispered.
Her father adjusted his cuff.
That was all.
Sophia moved toward him.
"Where is my sister?"
Vittorio finally looked at her.
"You made your choice last night."
Sophia's face collapsed.
"What does that mean?"
He walked toward the door.
I blocked him.
"Answer her."
Vittorio's eyes met mine.
May you like
And then he said the sentence that officially ended the peace between our families.
"If Sophia wants Isabella alive, she'll come home by midnight."
