Chapter 2 - THE SILVER BRACELET
Matteo DeLuca did not ring the buzzer of Grace’s apartment.
He didn’t wait in the idling black town car at the curb, either.
At exactly six-thirty, a sharp, single knock sounded on her door. Grace took a deep breath, smoothed the fabric of her dark emerald dress, and opened it.
Matteo stood in the dimly lit hallway of her building.
He wore a tailored charcoal suit that made the narrow corridor feel entirely too small. No tie. The top button of his crisp white shirt was undone, projecting an effortless, dangerous kind of elegance.
He didn’t say hello.
His dark eyes swept over her, taking in the way the silk dress draped over her shoulders, the way she had pinned her hair up, the subtle gold hoops at her ears.
For three seconds, the absolute silence in the hallway stretched tight enough to snap.
“Is it too much?” Grace asked, suddenly hyper-aware of her bare arms. “I bought this a year ago. I never had a reason to wear it.”
“It’s not too much,” Matteo said. His voice was a low, steady hum. “It’s exactly right.”
He offered his arm.
Grace looked at it, hesitating. She hadn’t walked arm-in-arm with a man since the day she left the courthouse.
“We are telling a story tonight, Grace,” Matteo reminded her softly. “Stories require details.”
She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. He was solid. Immovable. She instantly felt a strange, terrifying sense of safety.
They rode in silence to the Lakeshore Club. When they walked through the grand brass doors of the foyer, the dull roar of a hundred corporate guests washed over them.
Grace immediately spotted her family near the cocktail bar.
Her mother was checking her watch. Her sister was whispering to her husband.
And standing ten feet away, holding a scotch and laughing with the Alden Freight executives, was Daniel.
He looked exactly the same. Perfect posture. Perfect teeth.
Beside him stood his new wife, Chloe. She was younger, blonde, draped in an expensive ivory cocktail dress.
Grace’s chest tightened. She instinctively tried to pull her hand away from Matteo’s arm.
Matteo clamped his hand over hers, pinning it gently but firmly against his side.
“Look at me,” Matteo ordered, his voice barely a whisper against her ear.
She looked up.
“You are not the woman he left,” Matteo said, his eyes locking onto hers. “You are the woman who survived him. Walk into that room and let him see the difference.”
Grace took a breath. She lifted her chin.
They walked into the ballroom.
It didn’t happen all at once. But as Matteo DeLuca moved through the crowd, conversations began to stall.
Executives who recognized him stepped back. Waiters immediately cleared out of his path.
Daniel was mid-laugh when he finally looked up.
His smile vanished instantly. His eyes darted from Matteo to Grace, his expression fracturing into complete, unadulterated shock.
Grace’s mother rushed forward. “Grace! You’re late. And you brought…” She paused, staring at the imposing man beside her daughter.
“Mom, this is Matteo,” Grace said, her voice remarkably steady.
“Matteo DeLuca,” he offered, extending a hand. His charm was sudden and lethal. “Grace has told me wonderful things about your family.”
Her mother was flustered, instantly charmed. “Oh! Well. Grace didn’t tell us she was seeing anyone.”
“We prefer to keep things private,” Matteo said smoothly. “Grace is a very private woman. It’s one of the things I admire most about her.”
Grace felt her cheeks warm. He was incredibly good at this.
Daniel suddenly appeared at her mother’s shoulder. Chloe was holding his arm.
“Grace,” Daniel said. His voice was tight, his eyes fixed on Matteo. “I didn’t expect you to bring a date.”
“And I didn’t expect you to care, Daniel,” Grace replied effortlessly.
Daniel flinched.
Chloe smiled, leaning forward. “It’s so nice to see you, Grace. I love your dress. It’s very… vintage.”
It was a deliberate, polite insult.
Grace opened her mouth to reply, but her breath hitched in her throat.
She wasn’t looking at Chloe’s face. She was looking at Chloe’s wrist.
Clasped around the younger woman’s arm was a heavy, intricate silver bracelet woven with tiny turquoise stones.
Grace’s stomach plummeted.
It was her grandmother’s bracelet. The one she had lost during the move out of Daniel’s house. She had spent weeks crying over it, and Daniel had sworn he never found it.
He hadn’t lost it. He had given it to his new wife.
Grace felt the blood drain from her face. The humiliation was sudden and suffocating.
Matteo noticed the shift in her posture instantly. He followed her gaze down to the silver bracelet.
He didn’t ask what it was. He simply read the devastation in Grace’s eyes.
Matteo let go of Grace’s arm. He took a single step toward Daniel, closing the distance between them until Daniel was forced to look up at him.
“Daniel Parker,” Matteo said quietly.
Daniel swallowed hard. “Mr. DeLuca. I handle regional logistics for Alden. We’ve, uh, we’ve crossed paths on the shipping docks.”
“We have,” Matteo agreed softly. “And you handle logistics very poorly.”
Daniel blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Last month, three of your manifests were forged,” Matteo said, his voice dropping to a volume that only the four of them could hear. “You routed two shipments of electronics through a warehouse owned by the Rossi family. Without my permission.”
Daniel’s face turned the color of ash.
Grace stared. The Rossi family? They were Matteo’s biggest, most violent rivals in Chicago.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Daniel stammered, his eyes darting around the room in absolute panic.
“Yes, you do,” Matteo whispered.
He reached out and gently took Chloe’s wrist.
Chloe gasped, freezing like a deer in headlights as Matteo inspected the silver bracelet.
“Beautiful craftsmanship,” Matteo said to Chloe, though his dead eyes remained on Daniel. “Did your husband buy this for you?”
“Yes,” Chloe whispered, terrified of the man holding her arm.
May you like
Matteo let her go. He looked at Daniel.
“Take it off her wrist, Daniel,” Matteo said calmly. “Before I cut off her hand to get it.”
