Chapter 2 - The Man Derek Feared More Than God|
The stranger stopped three feet from the altar.
Up close, he was even more intimidating.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair threaded with silver at the temples. A scar ran along his jaw, disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. When he moved, I caught a glimpse of tattoos extending over his wrist.
He looked like a man who had never once needed to ask permission to enter a room.
But his eyes weren't on me.
They were on Derek.
"Take your hands off her."
Derek had already released my wrist.
Still, he took another step backward.
"Mr. Valenti."
The stranger's expression didn't change.
"Did I interrupt something?"
Derek swallowed.
"No. We were just having a misunderstanding."
I almost laughed.
A misunderstanding.
Apparently finding my fiancé with my maid of honor thirty-eight minutes before our wedding qualified as a misunderstanding.
The stranger finally looked at me.
His eyes were dark gray.
Sharp.
But when he noticed the redness around my wrist, something changed.
"Are you hurt?"
I stared at him.
"No."
"Are you certain?"
I nodded.
Then, because my day had already become ridiculous, I added, "My pride has seen better mornings."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Derek stepped forward.
"Mr. Valenti, this is a private family matter."
The stranger turned toward him.
"Then perhaps you should have handled it privately before one hundred and sixty people became witnesses."
A murmur moved through the church.
Cassandra stood near the bridesmaids.
Her face had lost all its color.
The stranger looked toward her.
"And you must be Cassandra."
She swallowed.
"Yes."
He nodded once.
"Interesting."
Something about that single word made her grip her bouquet tighter.
I looked between them.
"Who are you?"
The stranger returned his attention to me.
"Roman Valenti."
My stomach tightened.
Even I knew that name.
Roman Valenti owned hotels, shipping companies, restaurants, and half the commercial properties along Chicago's riverfront.
The newspapers called him a businessman.
My father called him something else whenever his name appeared on the evening news.
The syndicate boss.
The man whose family had controlled certain parts of the city for decades.
I had never met him.
At least, not until my wedding became a public disaster.
"Mr. Valenti," I said carefully, "why are you here?"
Roman studied me.
"Because Derek owes me an explanation."
Derek immediately interrupted.
"This isn't the place."
Roman looked at him.
"Neither was the bridal linen closet."
A shocked sound traveled through the pews.
Cassandra closed her eyes.
Derek's face turned crimson.
I stared at Roman.
"How do you know about that?"
He hesitated.
Then said, "Because someone contacted my office this morning."
My heart raced.
"Who?"
Roman looked toward Derek.
"Would you like to tell her?"
Derek shook his head.
"Roman, please."
That was the first time I heard genuine fear in his voice.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
I folded my arms.
"Derek, what's going on?"
He looked at me.
"Ren, please don't listen to him."
Roman's expression hardened.
"You're asking her not to listen after spending three years lying to her?"
The room became painfully quiet.
Three years.
My relationship with Derek had lasted three and a half.
I looked at Roman.
"What lies?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced toward Father Molina.
"Father, I apologize for interrupting your church."
Father Molina studied him.
"An apology is welcome. An explanation would be better."
To my astonishment, Roman nodded respectfully.
"Agreed."
Then he looked at me.
"Miss Whitaker, did Derek ever tell you how he financed his new real estate company?"
I frowned.
"He had investors."
"Did he name them?"
"No."
Roman looked toward Derek.
"Would you like to?"
Derek's jaw tightened.
"This is business."
I stared at my former fiancé.
Something inside me became very cold.
"Business?"
He wouldn't look at me.
Roman continued.
"Six months ago, Derek approached a company affiliated with mine for financing."
I swallowed.
"Okay."
"He offered collateral."
Derek suddenly stepped forward.
"Stop."
Roman didn't move.
I looked between them.
"What collateral?"
Silence.
Then Roman said quietly:
"An interest in a property he claimed belonged to him."
My stomach tightened.
"What property?"
Roman's expression softened.
"The Whitaker family house."
For a moment, I couldn't understand the words.
My family's house?
The small Victorian home my grandmother had left me?
The house I'd spent years restoring?
I stared at Derek.
"That's impossible."
He looked away.
Roman continued.
"The property was represented as security for a loan. Our legal department discovered irregularities in the documents."
My heart thundered.
"Derek?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"Ren, I can explain."
I stared.
"Did you use my house?"
"It wasn't supposed to matter."
The room went completely silent.
I felt as though someone had removed the floor beneath my feet.
My house.
My inheritance.
The last thing my grandmother had left me.
Derek stepped closer.
"I was going to pay everything back."
I backed away.
"Without telling me?"
He reached for my hand.
I moved it.
"No."
Roman watched silently.
Then I turned toward him.
"Why did you come here today?"
His expression changed.
"Because the documents were going to be finalized after your marriage."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
Roman looked toward Derek.
Then back at me.
"Someone was counting on your wedding to make the transaction easier to complete."
I stared at Derek.
May you like
His face was pale.
And suddenly, the betrayal in the linen closet seemed like only the beginning.
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