Chapter Six: The Revelation

Before she could press him further, a stunning woman in a red dress approached.

Sliding her arm through Vincenzo’s with practiced familiarity.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking everywhere.”

She gave Lucia a dismissive glance before focusing entirely on him.

“Your father was asking for you.”

“Sophia.”

His voice cooled several degrees.

“I wasn’t aware you were invited tonight.”

She laughed. The sound like breaking glass.

“Don’t be absurd. I’m always invited.”

Her perfectly manicured hand caressed his arm.

“Your father insisted I come. You know how he adores me.”

“My father tolerates you because of your family connections. Don’t mistake that for adoration.”

Lucia tried to step away.

Uncomfortable with witnessing this exchange.

But Vincenzo’s hand immediately recaptured hers. Holding her firmly in place.

“And who is this little songbird?”

Sophia’s gaze raked over her with unconcealed disdain.

“New charity project, Vincenzo?”

“Lucia is my guest,” he replied. Each word measured and precise. “Which is more than I can say for you tonight.”

The woman’s smile faltered.

Genuine hurt flashing across her beautiful face before hardening into anger.

“You’ll regret this public humiliation.”

She stalked away.

Her red dress a slash of color against the monochrome crowd.

“Who was that?” Lucia whispered once she was out of earshot.

“No one of importance.”

He guided her toward a set of French doors leading to a garden terrace.

“Some air would be beneficial. You look pale.”

The night air was cool against her heated skin.

Fairy lights twinkled among the manicured hedges. Creating the illusion of stars brought down to earth.

They were alone on the terrace.

Though she could see security personnel stationed at discrete distances. Their vigilant eyes scanning constantly.

“Your singing tonight has created complications,” Vincenzo said after a long silence.

Staring out at the darkened garden.

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

He sighed.

Running a hand through his perfect hair. Momentarily disheveling it.

The gesture seemed strangely vulnerable. At odds with his fortress-like demeanor.

“Your grandmother, Rosalia Marino. Was she married to Antonio Marino?”

She blinked in surprise.

“Yes. My grandfather died before I was born.”

“How did you know his name?”

Vincenzo turned to her.

His expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Because Antonio Marino was my father’s consigliere before he disappeared. Thirty years ago. The entire Marino family was presumed dead in a fire that destroyed their estate.”

The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet.

“That’s impossible. My grandparents immigrated to America forty years ago. They ran a small restaurant in Queens until my grandfather died of heart failure.”

“A convenient story.”

His voice held no accusation.

Only a strange resignation.

“One that kept you and your family safe for generations.”

“Safe from what?”

Her voice had risen.

He placed a finger against her lips.

“Not here.”

He glanced toward the house where guests still mingled.

“This changes everything, Lucia. You cannot return to your apartment tonight. Or perhaps ever.”

Fear shot through her.

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m going home.”

“Your brother will be collected and brought to a secure location. Along with his medication.”

His tone brooked no argument.

“Salvatore Catalano has seen you now. Heard your name. If you are who I suspect, your life is in immediate danger.”

“This is insane.”

She backed away.

Bumping against the stone balustrade.

“I’m nobody. Just a housekeeper trying to pay my bills. There’s been some mistake.”

His laugh was without humor.

“The only mistake was your grandmother thinking she could hide forever.”

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