HE THOUGHT THIS WAS A CORPORATE EVENT

“No,” I said, stepping firmly in front of Leo.

Mark wiped a smear of blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He looked exhausted, deranged, and entirely desperate.

“Don’t be stupid, Nora,” he rasped. “Caroline used me. She set me up to take the fall for her little hit-job tonight. If the cops come, I’m the patsy. If Vincent survives, I’m a dead man. The only way I get out of this city alive is if I have a hostage they care about.”

“He’s your son,” I said, trying to keep my voice even while my hand desperately searched the wine rack behind me for a heavy bottle.

“He’s not my son!” Mark snapped, his voice cracking. “He’s Michael DeLuca’s bastard. I’ve been raising a mob boss’s kid for seven years while she drained the grandmother’s accounts. Now give him to me!”

He stepped forward, the gun leveled at my chest.

Behind my back, my fingers closed around the thick neck of a dusty vintage champagne bottle.

“Mark, think about this,” I pleaded, taking a half-step back, pushing Leo slightly behind a wooden pillar. “If you take him, Vincent will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

“He’s going to do that anyway!” Mark yelled.

Suddenly, the heavy iron door at the top of the main cellar stairs groaned open.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone steps.

Mark spun around, aiming his flashlight and his gun toward the stairs.

“Drop it, Mark.”

Vincent’s voice filled the cavernous room. He stepped into the light, his tuxedo jacket gone, his white shirt stained with blood. He held a sleek black handgun by his side, completely unbothered by the weapon pointed at him.

“Stay back!” Mark shouted, his hand shaking violently. “I’ll kill her! I’ll kill the kid!”

Vincent didn’t stop walking. His pace was slow, deliberate, like a predator cornering wounded prey.

“Caroline is dead,” Vincent said calmly.

Mark froze. “What?”

“Her brother turned on her when the Morettis realized they were walking into a trap,” Vincent lied smoothly, his eyes never leaving Mark’s. “Thomas took the money from the safe and left her out front. The police are ten minutes away.”

Mark’s breathing grew ragged. His gun wavered.

I saw my window.

I didn’t hesitate. I swung the heavy champagne bottle with everything I had, smashing it squarely against the side of Mark’s head.

Glass exploded. Champagne sprayed across the stone floor.

Mark crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the dirt. His gun clattered away into the darkness.

I dropped the broken neck of the bottle, gasping for air, my hands shaking so violently I couldn’t clench them.

Vincent stepped forward, kicked Mark’s gun away, and looked down at me.

“Remind me to double your holiday bonus, Nora,” he said, a faint, grim smile touching his lips.

He knelt down as Leo peeked out from behind the pillar.

“You okay, kid?” Vincent asked gently.

Leo nodded, staring at the unconscious man on the floor. “He was mean.”

“Yeah,” Vincent agreed. “He was.”

Vincent reached out and gently unclasped the heavy gold Rolex from Leo’s wrist.

“You know why the Morettis wanted this watch, Nora?” Vincent asked, turning it over in his hands.

“I thought it was just a threat,” I breathed, still trying to calm my racing heart.

“It was,” Vincent said. “But it’s also a key.”

He pressed a hidden latch near the crown of the watch. The back casing popped open.

Inside the small cavity wasn’t just a mechanism. There was a tightly folded piece of microfiche film.

“My father didn’t leave his empire to me,” Vincent said quietly. “He left the offshore accounts, the deeds, and the blackmail files to Michael. When Michael died, the money vanished. I’ve been running this family on cash reserves for five years.”

He looked at the tiny film.

“Caroline didn’t just want to steal my mother’s money. She found out what was in the watch. She brought the Morettis here to wipe us out, knowing she had the key to a billion-dollar empire sitting on her kid’s wrist.”

Vincent stood up, pocketing the watch.