Chapter 2 - Shadows in the Study
The silence in the room stretched until the crackle of the fireplace sounded like gunshots. Nadia stared at Lorenzo, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the leather strap of her handbag.
"Explain," she demanded, refusing to let her voice shake. "You told me when I signed the contract that I wouldn't have to lie to authorities. You told me your business was complicated, not that it was a target on my back."
Lorenzo watched her closely, assessing her reaction. Most people who learned they were in the crosshairs of an organized crime syndicate wept or hyperventilated. Nadia Carver merely stood her ground, demanding clarity.
"Five years ago, before we moved my mother to Boston," Lorenzo began quietly, "a rival family out of Providence—the Moretti outfit—tried to exert leverage over our shipping interests through my family. They failed. But my mother survived an ambush that left her scarred and broke something inside her mind."
He walked over to his desk, picking up a heavy crystal glass and pouring two fingers of amber liquid. He didn't drink.
"They believed my mother was dead or hidden abroad," he said. "For three years, that illusion held. But when she wandered off into the rain that afternoon, she was exposed. The men who chased her didn't find her—you did. And by bringing her safely home, by stepping between her and the street with that umbrella, you made yourself visible to people who spend their lives looking for pressure points."
"They think I'm someone important to you," Nadia whispered, the horrifying realization clicking into place.
"They know my mother calls you figlia," Lorenzo said, his gaze locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "They know you spend four days a week behind the gates of this compound. In their eyes, you are no longer a freelance linguist. You are family. And in our world, family is currency, shield, and target."
"Then let me go," Nadia said, stepping forward. "I'll pack my things. I'll take a flight to Chicago, to Seattle, anywhere. If I disappear, the link is broken."
A bitter, humorless smile touched Lorenzo’s lips. "You think you can outrun men who have payroll in three state police departments? If you leave this house without protection, you won't make it past Logan Airport. They wouldn't kill you immediately. They would take you, hold you, and use your voice to draw me into an open field."
"So I'm your prisoner?"
"You are my guest," Lorenzo countered softly, setting the glass down. "And under my roof, you are untouchable. But you cannot go back to that apartment in Cambridgeport. Effective tonight, you move into the east wing."
"I have a life, Lorenzo! I have plants, books, my father’s records—"
"My men packed your apartment three hours ago," he interrupted flatly. "Your belongings are already unpacked in the guest suite upstairs. Your father’s vinyl records are organized by year in the cabinet next to your bed. The rent on your lease has been paid for the next eighteen months so no landlord raises questions."
Nadia stared at him, torn between blinding fury at his audacity and a sickening relief that she hadn't been in that apartment when those men watched her window.
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"You planned this," she accused him, her chest heaving. "You knew they were watching before today."
"I prepare for eventualities, Miss Carver," Lorenzo said, taking a single step toward her, his shadow falling completely over her. "I made a vow when my father died that no harm would cross the threshold of my family again. You saved my mother from the rain when strangers walked past her. You gave her back her dignity when she had forgotten her own name. Whether you like it or not, Nadia, your safety is now my personal debt. And I pay my debts with blood if necessary."
