Chapter 2 - The Name No One Said Out Loud
Ella noticed the black sedan when she reached the corner near her apartment.
At first, she told herself it meant nothing.
New York was full of black cars. Black cars belonged to rideshare drivers, executives, tourists, security teams, politicians, and people who simply liked dark paint.
But this car had been behind her for four blocks.
She walked faster.
The sedan moved slowly beside the curb.
Her heart began to pound.
She reached for her phone, but a motorcycle roared around the corner and stopped directly in front of her. Two men wearing helmets climbed off.
Ella stepped back.
“Miss Carter?” one of them asked.
“My name is Ella.”
The man smiled beneath his helmet.
“Come with us.”
“No.”
He moved toward her.
Then another vehicle slammed to a stop between them.
The rear door opened.
Marco Bellini stepped out.
Ella recognized him immediately as one of Daniel’s men.
“Get in the car,” Marco said.
The men on the motorcycle reached beneath their jackets.
Marco’s men appeared from nowhere.
The street exploded into motion.
Ella heard shouting. A gunshot cracked against the night. Marco grabbed her arm and pulled her into the SUV as the driver accelerated away.
Ella pressed herself against the door, breathing hard.
“What is happening?”
Marco looked at her through the dim interior light.
“You are being targeted.”
“By who?”
“We are still determining that.”
“Who are you people?”
Marco hesitated.
Then he said, “The man you met tonight is Alessandro DeLuca.”
Ella waited.
The name meant nothing.
Marco noticed.
“You really don’t know.”
“No. Should I?”
Marco looked out the window.
“Most people in this city know not to say his name casually.”
Ella’s stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Because Mr. DeLuca is powerful.”
“That does not explain armed men trying to kidnap me.”
“It may be connected to him.”
“May be?”
Marco’s voice became firm. “Until we understand who sent them, you cannot go home.”
Ella laughed bitterly.
“I have work in six hours.”
“You will not be going to work.”
“You do not get to decide that.”
“No,” Marco said. “But whoever tried to take you does.”
They took her to a penthouse overlooking the Hudson River.
It was not a home. It was a fortress disguised as luxury.
There were guards at the elevator. Cameras in every hallway. A private doctor waiting in the living room. And Alessandro—Daniel—standing near the windows in the same charcoal suit he had worn at the club.
He turned as she entered.
“Ella.”
She stared at him.
“Daniel?”
“My name is Alessandro.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“And you sent armed men to drag me into a car.”
“My men stopped armed men from dragging you into a car.”
“That is not much better.”
He accepted the anger without reacting.
“I am sorry.”
Ella blinked.
She had expected a threat, an explanation, perhaps a command.
Not an apology.
Alessandro walked toward her but stopped several feet away.
“You should not have been followed.”
“Why was I?”
“I do not know yet.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“No,” he said. “It is not.”
Marco placed a tablet on the table.
A security video played.
It showed Ryan leaving the club minutes after Ella. He spoke to a man outside, then pointed in the direction Ella had walked.
Her blood went cold.
“Ryan did this?”
“Possibly,” Alessandro said. “Or he told someone where you lived.”
Ella stared at the screen.
Ryan had always been selfish.
Controlling.
Cruel in ways that left no bruises.
But she had never believed he would put her in danger.
“I need to call him,” she said.
“No,” Alessandro replied.
Ella turned sharply.
“You do not get to control who I speak to.”
“You are right.”
The immediate agreement stopped her.
“But if Ryan is involved,” Alessandro continued, “calling him tells him you are alive and protected. That could force him to make another move.”
Ella looked at the video again.
Alessandro’s voice lowered.
“Stay here tonight. Tomorrow, you decide what happens next.”
She looked at him.
“Why do you care?”
For a moment, Alessandro seemed unable to answer.
Then he said, “Because you trusted me with one dance.”
It sounded simple.
But Ella felt there was something much deeper beneath it.
That night, unable to sleep, Ella walked into the penthouse kitchen and found Alessandro sitting alone in the dark.
He held a glass of whiskey but had not touched it.
“Do you always sit in shadows?” she asked.
He looked up.
“Only when I do not want anyone to see me thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
“You.”
Ella leaned against the counter.
“That is a bad idea.”
“I know.”
“You do not know me.”
“I know you stood up to a man who hurt you. I know you asked for one dance instead of begging him to look back. I know you are stronger than you believe.”
Ella’s eyes stung.
Before she could respond, Marco entered.
His face was grim.
“We found the men from the motorcycle.”
Alessandro stood.
“Who sent them?”
May you like
Marco looked at Ella.
“Ryan Carter’s new girlfriend.”
