Chapter 3 - The Price of a Flower Girl|
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
I could hear my own breathing echoing against the marble walls.
Massimo stood beside the locked bathroom door, listening.
His expression was frighteningly calm.
"Don't answer him," he whispered.
I stared at him.
"Your uncle just threatened to kill people because of me."
"He's threatening people because he's losing control."
"Of what?"
Massimo didn't answer.
Outside, Vittorio knocked three times.
"Your grandmother is downstairs, Massimo."
The color drained from Massimo's face.
"If anything happens to her, I swear—"
"Then open the door."
I grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
He looked at me.
It was the first time I had touched him voluntarily.
His eyes dropped briefly to my hand before returning to my face.
"Trust me for sixty seconds, Sophie."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because if I wanted to hand you over, I would have done it already."
I hated how reasonable that sounded.
Massimo reached beneath the bathroom vanity and pressed a hidden button.
A narrow panel slid open beside the shower.
I stared.
"You have a secret passage in your bathroom?"
"My grandfather believed every room needed two exits."
"Your grandfather sounds like a very nervous man."
"He lived to ninety-four."
Massimo guided me through the opening.
The passage was narrow, dimly illuminated, and smelled faintly of old stone.
Behind us, something crashed against the bathroom door.
"They're coming!" I whispered.
Massimo closed the panel.
We hurried down a short staircase that ended in a small security room.
Several monitors showed different parts of the mansion.
The front entrance was surrounded by armed men.
The main staircase was empty.
In the dining room, Massimo's grandmother sat calmly at the table with a cup of tea.
I almost laughed from relief.
"She's alive!"
Massimo leaned toward the monitor.
"Nonna Rosa."
His voice softened.
Then I noticed something strange.
The grandmother was speaking to someone outside the camera's view.
A moment later, she deliberately lifted her teacup toward the ceiling.
Massimo smiled.
"She's telling me she's safe."
"With a teacup?"
"Family signal."
"Your family is insane."
"You're beginning to understand."
He picked up a secure phone and called someone named Marco.
A deep voice answered immediately.
"Boss, the west entrance is compromised."
"Nonna?"
"Protected."
"Elena?"
"Alive, but injured."
"Her son?"
"We're looking."
Massimo glanced at me.
"Get a car to the service tunnel."
"Understood."
He ended the call.
"You're leaving Chicago tonight."
I folded my arms.
"Absolutely not."
His eyebrows rose.
"Excuse me?"
"I have three employees, a flower shop, and a life."
"All of which can be protected."
"By the man whose family is currently shooting at each other?"
He looked almost offended.
"Fair point."
I stepped closer.
"Tell me why your uncle wants me."
Massimo studied me for a long moment.
Then he opened a locked cabinet and removed a tablet.
He showed me a photograph taken earlier that evening.
It was me.
I was standing in the mansion's conservatory, arranging white roses beneath a crystal chandelier.
In the background stood Vittorio and another man.
I recognized the second man from the party.
He had introduced himself as Daniel Cross, a real estate investor.
"What am I supposed to see?"
Massimo enlarged the photograph.
On the table beside the men was a black leather folder.
Its cover bore a silver symbol shaped like a crown.
Massimo's voice became quiet.
"That folder contains records my uncle has spent six months trying to hide."
"What records?"
"Payments, property transfers, and evidence that someone has been stealing money from the Romano family's legitimate businesses."
I stared at the image.
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"You were working beside them for nearly forty minutes."
"So?"
"So someone believes you overheard their conversation."
I shook my head.
"I was arranging flowers."
"Did they say anything unusual?"
I thought back.
The conservatory had been crowded with caterers, decorators, and musicians.
I remembered Daniel Cross complaining about the cold.
I remembered Vittorio arguing about delivery schedules.
Then something surfaced.
"They mentioned a greenhouse."
Massimo went still.
"What greenhouse?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
I closed my eyes.
"Daniel said the greenhouse would be empty by Friday."
Massimo's expression changed.
"And Vittorio?"
"He said something about making sure the old woman didn't find out."
Massimo stopped breathing for a moment.
"What old woman?"
I looked at him.
"Your grandmother?"
He turned toward the monitors.
On the dining-room screen, Rosa Romano suddenly stood.
A masked man entered the room.
He approached her with a gun.
I gasped.
Massimo grabbed the phone.
"Marco, dining room, now!"
But before he could speak again, his grandmother reached beneath the table.
The masked man froze.
Rosa calmly raised a small silver pistol.
"Good heavens," I whispered.
Massimo almost smiled.
"That's my grandmother."
The masked man dropped his weapon.
Two security guards rushed inside.
Rosa sat down and resumed drinking tea.
I stared at the monitor in disbelief.
Then Massimo's phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent him a photograph.
He opened it.
The image showed my flower shop.
Its front window had been shattered.
Across the glass, someone had painted four words in bright red.
SOPHIE MILLER KNOWS EVERYTHING.
My knees nearly gave out.
Massimo caught me before I fell.
And for the first time that night, the terrifying mafia boss looked genuinely afraid.
May you like
Not for himself.
For me.
