Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH BULLETPROOF WINDOWS
Matteo wanted Penelope removed from the hotel immediately.
Penelope refused.
Madison was crying. Nathan demanded answers from Bradley. Their parents argued in opposite corners while Detective Ward collected phones and statements.
Leaving without speaking to her sister would feel like another surrender made for everyone else’s convenience.
“I need five minutes,” Penelope told Matteo.
“No.”
She stared at him. “We discussed this.”
“We discussed a wedding, not a threat from a dead woman.”
“You don’t get to order me around because someone made a frightening phone call.”
“The caller knew where we were.”
“So did half the hotel.”
“She knew about you.”
“Bradley told her.”
“She knew enough to threaten your life.”
Penelope lowered her voice.
“And your solution is to make me disappear before I can ask questions?”
“My solution is to keep you breathing.”
“Protection should involve the person being protected.”
Matteo’s eyes sharpened.
She could see he was unaccustomed to being challenged, especially in front of his men.
“Five minutes,” she repeated.
He looked at Luca.
“Clear the family conference room.”
Madison followed Penelope inside.
The instant the door closed, she spoke.
“Are you actually married?”
“No.”
Madison shut her eyes.
“I knew it.”
“I asked him to pretend because Bradley cornered me upstairs.”
“You told Mom six months.”
“He said six months.”
“You held his hand.”
“There were detectives.”
Madison stared at her. “That explains absolutely nothing.”
Penelope sat.
“I’m sorry.”
“For lying?”
“For bringing this into your wedding.”
Madison’s expression changed.
“You didn’t bring it.”
“Bradley used my badge.”
“Bradley committed a crime because someone threatened his career and Dad’s company. That isn’t your fault.”
Penelope blinked.
For years, Madison had asked her to tolerate Bradley.
Now anger hardened her younger sister’s face.
“I should have stopped him,” Madison whispered.
“Who?”
“Bradley. Every Christmas. Every dinner. I heard him. I knew exactly what he was doing.”
“You wanted peace with Nathan’s family.”
“I wanted easy peace.”
Tears filled Madison’s eyes.
“And I made you pay for it.”
Penelope sat beside her.
Madison took her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
The apology reached a place Penelope had pretended no longer hurt.
“Are you still marrying Nathan?” she asked.
“Yes. If he still wants to marry into this disaster.”
“He probably feels the same about us.”
Madison laughed through tears.
“What happens now?”
“The wedding continues.”
“With a mafia boss pretending to be your husband?”
“Possibly not. He ended the arrangement.”
“Why do you sound disappointed?”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
Penelope refused to examine that.
When she returned to the corridor, Matteo was waiting.
He looked at the clock.
“Six minutes.”
“My sister cried.”
“I noticed.”
“You were watching?”
“I watch exits.”
“Of course.”
Luca approached with a tablet.
“Vehicle is ready. Alternate route to the residence has been secured.”
Penelope frowned. “What residence?”
“Mine,” Matteo said.
“I’m going home.”
“No.”
“There is that word again.”
“Your apartment has street-facing windows, one entrance, and a lock purchased from a hardware store.”
“It’s a good lock.”
“It costs thirty-nine dollars.”
“How do you know?”
“Luca photographed it.”
Penelope looked at the security chief.
He showed no shame.
“You sent a man to photograph my lock?”
“After the call,” Matteo said. “Not before.”
“An important distinction.”
“Yes.”
“I am not moving into your house.”
“Then choose a secure hotel suite.”
“I work at a secure hotel.”
“Someone cloned your badge, entered my office, planted stolen documents, and called the ballroom without being traced.”
“Fair point.”
“You stay with me.”
“No.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
Penelope folded her arms.
“Ask.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You said I stay with you as though I have no choice. Ask me.”
For a long second, neither moved.
Then Matteo spoke more quietly.
“Will you stay at my home until Luca confirms your apartment is safe?”
Penelope considered.
“Yes.”
The answer appeared to unsettle him.
“Good.”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
“It was inefficient.”
“It took six seconds.”
“An unnecessary six seconds.”
“But I chose.”
Something changed in his expression.
“Get used to it,” she said.
Matteo’s home occupied the upper three floors of a limestone building in the Gold Coast. There were no visible guards, though Penelope counted four men before reaching the elevator.
The penthouse was not what she expected.
There was dark wood and expensive stone, but also books, warm lamps, and a kitchen that looked used. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city.
“Bulletproof?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Do normal people ask that?”
“Normal people don’t generally visit.”
A housekeeper named Rosa greeted them.
She was short, gray-haired, and unimpressed by Matteo.
“You missed dinner,” she said.
“There was a problem.”
“There is always a problem.”
Rosa looked at Penelope.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Who is this?”
“My wife,” Matteo said.
Penelope turned toward him.
“I thought the arrangement ended.”
“We need the household staff to behave naturally if we’re being watched.”
Rosa crossed her arms.
“Are you legally married?”
“No,” Penelope said.
“Did he ask properly?”
“He suggested a courthouse and then offered a fake wedding weekend.”
Rosa slapped Matteo’s shoulder with a kitchen towel.
“You learned nothing from your father.”
Matteo, feared by half of Chicago, accepted the blow without protest.
Penelope liked Rosa immediately.
Rosa led her to a guest suite containing clothes in several sizes.
Penelope stopped when she saw the labels.
“You had someone buy these?”
“Yes,” Matteo said.
“How did they know my size?”
“Luca.”
She looked at him.
“Security training,” he said from the doorway.
“That continues to explain nothing.”
Rosa dismissed both men.
After showering, Penelope changed into soft black pants and a cream sweater. The clothes fit perfectly, which created complicated feelings about Luca’s observational abilities.
She found Matteo in the kitchen.
He was cooking pasta.
Penelope stopped.
“You cook?”
“Occasionally.”
“Is this another organized-crime skill?”
“My mother taught me.”
The mention of his mother shifted the atmosphere.
Penelope sat at the island.
“Was the woman on the phone really your aunt?”
“The voice sounded like Sofia.”
“But she died.”
“I saw the burned car.”
“Did you see her body?”
“I was sixteen. Carlo kept me away from the funeral arrangements.”
“Your uncle who later disappeared?”
“Yes.”
Matteo placed pasta into boiling water.
“My parents were driving home from a charity dinner when their car exploded. Sofia had asked them for a ride.”
“And you inherited the family business?”
“Carlo took control. I inherited it from him later.”
“After he disappeared.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Yes.”
Penelope understood there were questions he would not answer.
“Why did the caller threaten me?”
“To make me act emotionally.”
“Do you?”
“Rarely.”
“You offered to marry a stranger after knowing her for five minutes.”
“That was calculated.”
“Was dinner calculated?”
He turned off the burner.
“No.”
Her pulse changed.
Matteo served the pasta with roasted tomatoes and basil. They ate across from each other at the kitchen island.
It was the strangest dinner of Penelope’s life.
And technically, she realized, it might be the dinner she owed him.
“This counts as payment,” she said.
“It does not.”
“Why?”
“Rosa prepared the sauce.”
“You boiled pasta.”
“I did.”
“That seems unfair to Rosa.”
“She is well compensated.”
Penelope smiled.
Matteo watched her.
“What?”
“Bradley was wrong.”
Her smile disappeared.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know you challenge armed men over grammar.”
“You weren’t holding a gun.”
“I was armed.”
She set down her fork.
“You brought a gun into the lounge?”
“I bring one everywhere.”
“I specifically said no guns at dinner.”
“You said no guns on the table.”
Penelope looked under the island.
“Where is it?”
“That seems contrary to your desire not to see it.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
The sound surprised both of them.
Matteo’s face softened.
Then Luca entered.
“Security found something at Miss Hayes’s apartment.”
He placed a photograph on the counter.
Penelope’s front door stood open.
Inside, every drawer had been emptied.
Her mattress had been cut apart.
“What were they looking for?” she whispered.
Luca set down a second photograph.
On her bedroom wall, written in red paint, were four words.
ASK YOUR MOTHER ABOUT SOFIA.
Penelope looked at Matteo.
“My mother doesn’t know your family.”
“Apparently,” he said, “someone disagrees.”
Her phone rang.
Her mother’s name appeared.
Penelope answered.
“Mom?”
A man spoke.
“Your mother is safe for the moment.”
Penelope stood so quickly the stool fell.
“Who is this?”
“Bring Matteo Duca to the old Ashland Theater at midnight.”
Matteo took the phone and activated the speaker.
The man continued.
“Come without Luca. Without police. Without weapons.”
“What proof do you have her?” Matteo asked.
Penelope’s mother cried out in the background.
Then the call ended.
Penelope could not breathe.
Matteo caught her shoulders.
“Look at me.”
“They took her.”
“I heard.”
“Because of me.”
“No.”
The kitchen blurred.
Matteo lowered himself until their eyes were level.
“We will get her back.”
“How?”
“By giving them what they asked for.”
Luca’s face hardened. “Absolutely not.”
Matteo looked at him.
“They asked for me.”
“They’ll kill you.”
“Possibly.”
Penelope shook her head.
“No.”
Matteo turned back to her.
She understood then why he had tried to end their arrangement.
He was not afraid she would be hurt only because she appeared to be his wife.
May you like
He was afraid he would choose her if she was.
And now her mother’s life had become the price.
