THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME STRUGGLE TO CARRY A HEAVY SILVER TEA SERVICE WITHOUT STRAIGHTENING MY BACK—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, “SHE FELL IN THE WINE CELLAR,” BEFORE HE HAD EVEN ASKED WHY I WAS IN PAIN.

The brass doorknob squeaked.

Time seemed to freeze in my tiny bedroom.

Luca didn't panic.

In one fluid motion, he slipped the silver Falcone money clip into his pocket, stepped toward my bed, and pulled my uniform shirt up to cover my exposed shoulder.

He didn't move away from me.

He stood deliberately close, his broad shoulders blocking me from the doorway.

The door swung inward.

Vanessa stood in the hallway.

She had changed out of her red silk gown and was wearing a sheer, white lace robe.

Her perfectly styled blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder.

But the smile she usually wore was gone.

Her blue eyes darted from the unmade bed, to my tear-streaked face, and finally to Luca.

"Darling," Vanessa said. Her voice was sweet, but the underlying tension was razor-sharp. "What on earth are you doing down here in the servant's quarters? At this hour?"

Luca didn't flinch.

He turned his head slightly, his expression completely blank.

"I'm handling a liability, Vanessa."

"A liability?"

"Emma lied to me tonight," Luca said, his voice cold and unforgiving. "She disrupted our engagement dinner. She caused a scene in front of the alderman and his wife."

Vanessa's posture relaxed.

A cruel, victorious glimmer flashed in her eyes.

"I told you she was overly dramatic, Luca. She just tripped."

"It doesn't matter what she did," Luca lied smoothly. "She showed disrespect to my table. I came down here to personally hand her her severance check. She's fired. She'll be gone before morning."

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to look down, playing the part of the broken, dismissed maid.

Vanessa stepped into the room.

She looked at my cheap canvas bag on the floor.

"Well. I suppose it's for the best. We wouldn't want her injuring herself during the wedding preparations tomorrow."

She reached out and placed a hand on Luca's arm.

"Come to bed, Luca. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day."

Luca looked at her hand on his sleeve.

"Go upstairs, Vanessa. I need two minutes to make sure she turns in her keys."

Vanessa hesitated, her eyes flickering toward me one last time.

"Don't take too long, darling."

She turned and walked down the hallway, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering in the stale air of my room.

We waited in total silence.

Luca listened until the sound of her footsteps faded up the back stairwell.

Then he turned back to me.

The coldness in his face vanished entirely.

"Pack your bag, Emma."

"You... you really want me to leave?" I stammered, fresh tears threatening to spill.

"I want you out of this house," Luca said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Because tomorrow morning, this estate is going to become a warzone. And I will not have you caught in the crossfire."

"But my mother—"

"Give me your bank routing number."

I blinked. "What?"

"Give it to me. Now."

With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my apron pocket and read him the numbers.

Luca tapped the screen of his phone for three seconds.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down at the notification.

Incoming wire transfer: $100,000.00.

I gasped, dropping the phone onto the bed.

"Mr. Moretti, I can't take this. This is too much."

"It covers your mother's bills. And it buys your silence," Luca said firmly. "I am moving you to a secure hotel downtown. Daniel will drive you."

He turned toward the door.

But as he reached for the handle, heavy, frantic footsteps echoed down the hall.

Mrs. Carter, the head housekeeper, appeared in the doorway.

She was a stern, sixty-year-old woman who never lost her composure.

Tonight, she looked terrified.

"Mr. Moretti," she breathed, clutching her chest. "Forgive me, sir. But Daniel sent me to find you."

"What is it, Mrs. Carter?"

"It's Thomas, sir. The driver."

Luca's stance widened. "Daniel said Thomas left the property at four."

"He did, sir," Mrs. Carter whispered. "But his car just rolled back through the service gates. Daniel went to check on him. The car is empty."

Luca cursed under his breath.

"Lock this door," he ordered me. "Do not open it for anyone but me."

He brushed past Mrs. Carter and sprinted down the hall.

I didn't listen.

I couldn't.

If Thomas was back on the property, Vanessa's plan was already in motion.

I grabbed my canvas bag, shoved my mother's rosary into my pocket, and followed them toward the underground garage.

The garage was cavernous, filled with Luca's collection of pristine black sedans and luxury SUVs.

In the center of the concrete floor sat Thomas's personal car, a gray sedan.

The driver's side door was wide open.

The engine was still ticking, warm from the drive.

Daniel was standing by the driver's seat, holding a flashlight.

Luca walked up beside him.

I stayed hidden behind a concrete pillar, watching.

"No blood," Daniel reported. "Keys are in the ignition. But he left his coat on the passenger seat."

Luca reached into the car and pulled out Thomas's heavy wool overcoat.

He checked the pockets.

From the inside breast pocket, he pulled out a crisp, white envelope.

Not the one Vanessa had given him.

This one had a logo printed on the front.

Amtrak.

Luca ripped the envelope open.

He pulled out a single, one-way train ticket to Montreal, Canada.

Scheduled to depart tomorrow at noon. The exact time Luca was supposed to be standing at the altar.

"He was going to run," Daniel said.

"No," Luca said softly, his eyes scanning the name printed on the ticket.

He turned around, his sharp gaze piercing through the shadows of the garage, finding me hiding behind the pillar.

"Come here, Emma."

I stepped out, my legs trembling.

Luca handed me the ticket.

I looked down.

The breath was knocked completely out of my lungs.

The ticket wasn't for Thomas.

Printed clearly under the passenger name was: Emma Collins.

"They weren't going to fire you, Emma," Luca said, his voice laced with a cold, terrifying realization. "They were going to kill me tomorrow. And they were going to put you on that train to make it look like you were the inside man who took the payoff and fled."

My legs gave out.

I collapsed against the side of the gray sedan.

I was going to be framed for the murder of a Mafia boss.

And as I slid down, my hand caught the latch of the car's trunk.

Click.

The trunk popped open an inch.

The smell of copper and rust hit the air immediately.

Daniel stepped forward and threw the trunk lid open.

Inside, lying twisted on the spare tire, was Thomas.

He was brutally beaten, covered in blood, and barely breathing.