Chapter 2 - THE CALL I COULDN'T ANSWER
I stared at the screen until the ringing stopped.
Liam reached for the phone. “Don't answer.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Good.”
The phone rang again.
Alessandro's name glowed against the cracked glass. I had deleted his number after the gala, but I had never forgotten it. I had memorized it the way a person memorizes the location of a fire exit.
Liam moved toward the window and pulled the curtain aside by half an inch. The black SUV was still there.
“Pack a bag,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“My sister's place in Evanston. She won't ask questions.”
“You can't bring her into this.”
“She's already in it if somebody is watching our apartment.”
The call ended. A message followed.
Emma. Please answer. I need to know you're safe.
I sat down on the closed toilet lid.
He had called me Emma. He remembered the name I had given him. That should have made me feel safer. Instead, it reminded me that he had the resources to find me even when I had made myself difficult to find.
A third call came through.
I answered before Liam could stop me.
“Hello?”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Alessandro's voice filled the bathroom.
“Emma.”
My throat tightened. “How did you get this number?”
“You gave it to me.”
“That was six weeks ago.”
“I remember.”
His voice was lower than I remembered, roughened by something that sounded almost like exhaustion. I could picture him in a glass office high above the city, one hand braced on his desk, his dark hair falling over his forehead.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Why are you calling?”
“Because I have been trying to reach you for three weeks.”
“I changed my number.”
“I noticed.”
“That should tell you something.”
“It tells me you wanted distance. I was prepared to respect that. Then someone tried to access the hotel security archive using your photograph.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Two men entered the Obsidian's administrative office last night. They asked for footage from the gala and a list of temporary staff. They were not hotel employees.”
I looked at Liam. His expression had gone hard.
“Who were they?” I asked.
“I don't know yet. But they were looking for you.”
“Maybe they had the wrong person.”
“Emma, don't.”
The quiet certainty in his voice made my eyes burn.
“Don't what?”
“Don't pretend you don't understand the danger. You were frightened that night. I saw it. I should have asked more questions.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“I should have.”
The admission caught me off guard.
Alessandro continued, “I want to meet. Somewhere public. You choose the place. Bring someone if you want.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Because I was pregnant. Because someone had threatened me. Because I had gone to his gala looking for evidence against his company. Because the man I had spent six weeks trying to forget was now the only person who might be able to protect me from the people hunting me.
“I have a life,” I said.
“I know.”
“You don't know anything about it.”
“Then let me learn.”
Liam shook his head sharply. I looked at him, and he mouthed, No.
I ended the call.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Liam said, “He sounded worried.”
“He's good at sounding worried.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know enough.”
We packed quickly. I took my identification, the silver key, two changes of clothes, and the small photograph of my parents that I kept inside my nursing-school textbook. Liam grabbed his laptop, a folder of documents, and the emergency cash he kept in a coffee tin.
Before we left, he checked the hallway. It was empty.
We took the back stairs and crossed the alley to his car. The black SUV was still at the curb, but its headlights flashed as we pulled away.
“They saw us,” I whispered.
“I know.”
Liam drove through three neighborhoods before heading north. He did not turn on the radio. Every few minutes he checked the mirror.
“Who sent the message?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“Could it be the accountant?”
“Maybe. Or someone who was watching him.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No. Everything came through encrypted messages.”
I turned toward him. “You said he was safe.”
“I said he was a source. I never said he was safe.”
“Liam.”
“I know. I should have told you more.”
The car went quiet.
We reached his sister's apartment just before nine. Rachel Carter opened the door wearing a robe and holding a toddler on her hip. She looked at Liam, then at me, then at the bags.
“Bad morning?” she asked.
“Very,” Liam said.
Rachel stepped aside. “Come in.”
She didn't ask questions until the child was asleep and the kettle was on. Then she sat across from me and placed a mug of tea between my hands.
“You look pale,” she said.
“I'm pregnant.”
Rachel blinked. “Oh.”
“It's complicated.”
“Most things are.”
“Alessandro Vitali is the father.”
Rachel's eyes widened. Liam looked at her as if daring her to make a joke.
She didn't.
“Does he know?”
“No.”
“Do you want him to know?”
I looked down at the tea. “I don't know.”
Rachel nodded. “Then you don't have to decide this minute.”
My phone buzzed again. A new message from an unknown number.
You should have answered him. Now he knows we found you.
Liam took the phone.
A second later, the screen went black.
He stared at it. “They just wiped the device.”
Rachel stood. “What does that mean?”
“It means somebody has access to more than her number.”
I looked at Liam. “Who has that kind of access?”
He didn't answer.
Then his laptop chimed from the kitchen counter. A new email had arrived on an account he had not used in months.
No subject. One attachment.
Liam opened it.
It was a photograph of me leaving the Obsidian Hotel six weeks earlier, taken from across the street. Alessandro was standing beside me, his hand lightly touching my back.
May you like
Beneath it was a sentence.
The child belongs to the Vitalis. Bring the girl to us before Alessandro finds out.
