Chapter 7
The air in the room turned brittle.
Alessandro stared at the gold band in Emma’s tiny hand as if it were a venomous snake. His mother, Elena Moretti, had died when he was sixteen. He had personally watched her coffin lowered into the family mausoleum on the northern cliff of the estate.
"Emma," Clara said, her voice shaking violently as she gently took the key and ring from her daughter. "Where did you find this? Tell Mommy."
"In Mr. Bunny’s tummy," Emma said softly, rubbing her eyes. "Daddy said it was a magic trick. He said when I was big, I had to give the magic key to the prince with the gray eyes."
Emma pointed her small finger directly at Alessandro.
Alessandro’s face paled beneath his fair skin. The commanding, invincible mafia boss looked entirely struck by lightning.
"Julian... Lucas... left this for you," Clara whispered, piecing the horror together. "He knew you would find us. Or he knew Emma would bring this to you."
Before Alessandro could touch the ring, heavy footsteps pounded up the corridor, followed by the sound of keys rattling in the master lock.
The door burst open.
Vivian Romano strode in, flanked by two armed men wearing the Romano family crest on their lapels. Behind them stood Don Ricci himself, leaning heavily on a silver-topped walking cane.
"Alessandro, thank God!" Vivian cried, rushing forward with theatrical terror in her eyes. "There are mercenaries in the garden! Don Ricci graciously offered his personal escort to get us to the safe house in Milan!"
Alessandro didn't flinch. In a split second, he stepped in front of Clara and Emma, his Glock raised and aimed dead-center at Don Ricci’s forehead.
The Romano guards instantly reached for their weapons, but the cold click of Marco’s rifle behind them in the hallway froze them in their tracks. Marco and four Moretti enforcers appeared in the doorway, red targeting lasers dancing across the chests of Vivian’s men.
"One twitch," Marco growled, "and you paint the wallpaper."
Vivian stopped dead, her eyes darting between Alessandro’s gun and the rifle barrels behind her. "Alessandro! What is the meaning of this? Don Ricci came to help us!"
"You used my private security code to loop the courtyard cameras forty minutes ago, Vivian," Alessandro said, his tone devoid of all humanity. "And then you handed a safe-deposit key to the man whose sniper just took a shot at this window."
Vivian’s face drained of color. "That's... that's a lie! She’s poisoning your mind! Look at her, she’s a maid! A nobody!"
"She is carrying Elena Moretti’s wedding band," Alessandro snarled.
Don Ricci’s eyes flared with sudden, sharp interest. The old boss leaned forward on his cane, completely ignoring the gun pointed between his eyes. A sinister, knowing smile pulled at the corners of his wrinkled mouth.
"So," Ricci rasped in a gravelly voice. "Lucas finally delivered it. After all these years."
Clara’s heart stopped. *Ricci knew Lucas.*
"Get out of my house, Ricci," Alessandro said, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Before I violate the ceasefire treaty right here on this carpet."
Ricci chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "You can kill me, boy. But if you do, you’ll never know which brother actually survived the fire in Genoa."
Alessandro’s gun lowered by a fraction of an inch, his eyes widening in pure shock.
"What did you say?" Alessandro breathed.
May you like
Ricci glanced toward Clara, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "Ask your little housekeeper why her dead husband’s blood type didn't match the child she’s holding."
***
