Chapter 7 - THE BRIDAL SUITE
The screen went black.
The silence in the penthouse was suffocating.
Daniel collapsed into a chair, burying his face in his hands, sobbing his daughter’s name. Christopher stood frozen, staring at the empty television screen like it was a ghost.
Luca didn’t move. He stared at the black glass, his hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles were bone-white.
“She moved them,” Daniel choked out. “She took them from the bunker. They’re at the cathedral.”
“Four hours,” Luca murmured, looking at his watch. It was 5:00 a.m. The wedding was scheduled for a private sunrise ceremony at St. Jude’s.
“Boss, we can breach the cathedral,” one of Luca’s armed men suggested. “Take her out through a window with a sniper.”
“No,” Luca snapped. “She’s in the subterranean bridal suite. There are no windows. And the Falcones will have fifty men guarding the perimeter. If a single shot is fired outside, she pulls the trigger inside.”
“Then what do we do?” Christopher asked, panic edging into his voice. “You have to marry her. Sign the papers. Give her whatever she wants!”
“If I marry her, the Falcones own my territory,” Luca said coldly. “And once she has the estate, she kills the hostages anyway to tie up loose ends.”
I stood in the center of the room, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.
I was a maid. A girl who scrubbed floors and polished silver. I didn’t know how to shoot a gun. I didn’t understand mafia politics.
But I understood Vanessa.
For ten months, I had studied her. I knew how she thought. I knew how she operated.
“She won’t let any of your men near that room,” I said, my voice echoing in the quiet penthouse.
Luca turned to me.
“No, she won’t,” he agreed.
“But she’ll let me in,” I said.
Luca’s eyes widened. “Absolutely not.”
“Luca, listen to me.” I stepped closer to him. “She thinks her hitmen killed me at the safehouse. But what if I show up at the cathedral, wearing my uniform, carrying her wedding dress? She’ll be shocked. She’ll think the hit failed and I came crawling back out of fear.”
“It’s suicide, Laura. She has a gun.”
“She won’t shoot a maid in her bridal suite thirty minutes before the ceremony. Not with the Falcone bosses waiting upstairs,” I argued, the plan forming rapidly in my mind. “She needs everything to look perfect. I can get inside. I can get the kids out.”
“How?” Daniel asked, looking up with desperate hope.
I looked at the heavy silver braided bracelet on my left wrist.
“Because I have the one thing she wants more than the marriage certificate,” I said. “The cipher to the accounts. I’ll trade it to her.”
Luca grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm but entirely gentle.
“I will not let you walk into a cage with a serial killer,” Luca said, his dark eyes fiercely protective. “You are not a soldier, Laura. You are not disposable.”
My breath caught at his words. No one had ever told me I wasn't disposable.
“I’m not a soldier,” I whispered, looking up into his eyes. “But I am the only one who can walk through that door without starting a war.”
I reached up and touched his hand, completely ignoring the stunned looks of his men.
“Let me do this. Let me save them.”
Luca stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. He saw the fire in my eyes, the absolute resolve that had kept me alive on the streets for years.
He slowly lowered his hands.
“Daniel,” Luca commanded, never breaking eye contact with me. “Get her a uniform. A clean one.”
Two hours later, the sun began to bleed over the Chicago skyline.
I stood in the underground loading dock of St. Jude’s Cathedral. I wore my crisp black housekeeper’s uniform, my right sleeve still securely buttoned over my bruised arm, the silver bracelet hidden beneath my left cuff.
In my hands, I held a massive, zippered garment bag containing Vanessa’s backup wedding gown.
Luca stood in the shadows next to me.
His men had quietly neutralized the two Falcone guards at the loading dock, but there were dozens more upstairs.
Luca reached out and adjusted the collar of my uniform. His fingers brushed against my neck, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
“You have three minutes,” Luca whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You get in, you give her the bracelet, and you push the kids out the service door. My men will be waiting on the other side.”
“And what about Vanessa?” I asked.
Luca’s eyes went dead cold.
“Once the kids are clear, you hit the floor. Because I’m coming through that door.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead in a brief, desperate kiss.
“Do not die, Laura. That is an order.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed.
I turned and walked down the long, concrete corridor toward the subterranean bridal suite.
My low heels clicked against the floor.
Two massive men in sharp suits stood outside the heavy oak door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the first guard sneered, stepping in front of me.
I kept my eyes down, playing the part I had perfected. The terrified, submissive maid.
“I have Miss Bellini’s gown,” I squeaked. “She requested it immediately.”
The guard patted down the garment bag, found nothing but silk and lace, and opened the door.
I stepped inside.
The bridal suite was blindingly white. Mirrors, roses, and crystal.
Vanessa sat at a vanity, applying red lipstick.
In the corner, tied to a radiator, were Mia and seven-year-old Leo. They were pale, trembling, their eyes wide with terror.
Vanessa saw my reflection in the mirror.
The lipstick tube snapped in her hand.
She slowly spun around, her beautiful face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock.
“You,” Vanessa hissed, dropping the broken lipstick. “How are you alive?”
I dropped the garment bag to the floor.
I didn’t lower my eyes this time. I looked directly into the face of the monster.
May you like
“I quit,” I said perfectly calmly.
And then, I rolled up my left sleeve.
