Chapter 2 - The Wedding Dress and Red Sweater
I RAN INTO A MAFIA BOSS’S PRIVATE DINNER WEARING MY WEDDING DRESS, CLUTCHING MY 7-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER’S LITTLE RED SWEATER—THEN MY GROOM WALKED IN AND SAID, “SHE’S NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”
The first thing I did when I saw Roman DeLuca was grab his arm.
The second was beg him to find my daughter.
I didn't know whether he would help me.
I only knew my future husband was afraid of him.
And at that moment, that was enough.
“Please,” I whispered. “She's only seven.”
Roman sat at the head of a long dining table, surrounded by men in expensive black suits.
His dark hair was brushed back. Tattoos climbed his neck and covered the hand resting beside his whiskey.
Everyone had gone silent.
One of his bodyguards stepped toward me.
Roman lifted two fingers.
The man stopped.
“Whose daughter?” Roman asked.
“Mine.”
I held up the little red sweater.
One of its heart-shaped buttons was missing.
“Her name's Rosie. She was upstairs twenty minutes ago, and now she's gone.”
Roman looked at my wedding dress.
The torn shoulder strap.
My bare feet.
Then my face.
“Who are you running from?”
Before I could answer, the dining room doors opened.
“Evelyn!”
Grant Whitmore stood in the doorway.
My fiancé.
The man I was supposed to marry in thirteen minutes.
He was smiling, but I knew that smile.
I'd seen it when he fired our housekeeper for giving Rosie a cookie before dinner.
I'd seen it when he told my daughter her drawings were too childish to hang in his house.
And I'd seen it that afternoon when he leaned close to my ear and whispered:
“You walk away from this wedding, and you'll never see her again.”
I hadn't believed him.
Not until I went upstairs and found Rosie's bedroom empty.
Her little red sweater was caught beneath the door.
“I'm terribly sorry,” Grant told the men at the table. “My bride's had a stressful evening.”
Roman didn't answer.
Grant approached me.
“Sweetheart, let's not embarrass ourselves.”
I backed away.
“Where's Rosie?”
“She's perfectly safe.”
“Then bring her here.”
His smile tightened.
“Evelyn, not in front of these people.”
I felt someone move beside me.
Roman had stood up.
He was taller than Grant, broader through the shoulders, dressed entirely in black.
“She's asking about her daughter,” Roman said.
Grant gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“This is a family matter, Mr. DeLuca.”
“Then answer her.”
“Rosie's upstairs with her aunt.”
My heart jumped.
“My sister Beth?”
“Of course.”
I stared at him.
Beth had promised to help me escape.
She'd squeezed my hand in the bridal suite and whispered, “I'll keep Rosie safe. You just get downstairs.”
But she hadn't answered her phone since.
Roman turned toward his security chief.
“Anthony. Check the fifth floor.”
Grant's expression changed.
“That's really unnecessary.”
Roman looked at him.
“Then you shouldn't mind.”
I stood beside that table, still clutching Rosie's sweater.
My knees were shaking so badly I could barely remain upright.
Roman noticed.
He pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
“I can't. I have to find her.”
“We will.”
Something about the way he said it made my throat close.
We will.
Not calm down.
Not you're overreacting.
Just two words I desperately needed someone to mean.
“Why would you help me?” I whispered.
Roman glanced toward Grant.
“Because you came into a room full of men who frighten you.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“And you're still more afraid of him.”
My mouth trembled.
Grant stepped forward.
“Evelyn, that's enough.”
He reached for my wrist.
I flinched.
Roman caught his arm before he touched me.
“Don't.”
Grant went pale.
“You don't understand who you're interfering with.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“Then explain why your bride is barefoot and crying for her child.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
And for the first time in eleven months, Grant Whitmore had nothing to say.
Anthony returned six minutes later.
I stood so quickly the chair scraped against the marble.
“Did you find her?”
He looked at Roman.
Then at me.
“The room is empty.”
My heart dropped.
“No.”
“Her suitcase is gone, too.”
I turned toward Grant.
“What did you do?”
“Evelyn, listen—”
“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?”
My voice cracked so badly I barely recognized it.
Grant's eyes darted toward the doors.
Roman moved between us.
“Anthony,” he said quietly. “Lock down the service exits.”
“Already done, boss.”
“Find the child.”
Anthony hesitated.
Then he handed Roman his phone.
“There's something else.”
Roman studied the screen.
The color seemed to drain from his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Roman?”
Slowly, he turned the phone toward me.
A security recording showed Rosie walking through the hotel parking garage.
She was holding someone's hand.
A woman in a pale-blue dress.
My sister.
“Beth?” I whispered.
I couldn't understand.
Beth had practically raised me after our father died.
She'd helped Rosie with her homework.
She'd held me while I cried after Grant threatened to take everything.
She was the only person I'd told about my plan to escape.
“Why would she take Rosie?”
Roman stared at the screen.
Then he asked a question that made my stomach turn.
“Evelyn, who told you to come into this dining room?”
I swallowed.
“Beth.”
His eyes darkened.
“She told me that if Grant tried to stop me, I should find the private dining room downstairs.”
Roman went completely still.
Anthony looked at him.
“Boss, there's an incoming call.”
“From who?”
Anthony swallowed.
“Your brother.”
For the first time, I saw genuine fear cross Roman DeLuca's face.
Then Anthony added something that made him grip the edge of the table.
“He says he has the little girl.”
I grabbed Roman's sleeve.
“Please. What does your brother want with my daughter?”
Roman looked at me.
And the words he spoke next changed everything.
“Evelyn... my brother has been dead for nine years.”
The phone began ringing again.
This time, the caller was requesting a video call.
Roman answered.
And behind the man's voice, I heard Rosie crying.
Then a familiar woman spoke.
My sister.
“Hello, Roman,” Beth said calmly. “It's been a long time.”
May you like
Roman's hand started shaking.
And when I heard what my sister demanded in exchange for Rosie's life, I finally understood why she had insisted I run straight into that dining room...
