Chapter 1 - The Photograph in the Folder
Lucian’s expression went cold.
“Because Kyle Mercer has been stealing from me for eleven months.”
For a second, the penthouse seemed to tilt beneath Harper’s feet.
She stared at the photograph on the marble island.
Kyle stood outside a private hangar at Midway Airport, his expensive camel coat buttoned to the throat. Beside him was a man Harper had seen only in newspapers: Vittorio Moretti, Lucian’s uncle and the former chairman of Moretti Maritime.
The timestamp in the corner was six weeks old.
Six weeks ago, Harper had been tasting wedding cakes with Kyle.
Six weeks ago, he had kissed frosting from her thumb and complained that she was overthinking vanilla bean versus almond.
Six weeks ago, apparently, he had also been meeting a Moretti.
Harper swallowed. “I don’t understand.”
Lucian slid another photograph toward her.
Kyle leaving a bank.
Another.
Kyle handing a flat black envelope to a man beside the Chicago River.
Another.
Kyle using a keycard at a Moretti Maritime logistics building at 2:14 in the morning.
Harper looked up. “Kyle works in commercial insurance.”
“He works for a company that insures several of my warehouses,” Lucian said. “Which gave him access to places he should never have been able to enter alone.”
“What did he steal?”
Lucian did not answer immediately.
That frightened her more than the photographs.
Gideon had moved to the far side of the kitchen, pretending not to listen. He was enormous, bald, and somehow managed to look embarrassed on Lucian’s behalf.
Lucian finally opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph of a watch.
Gold case. Black leather strap. Old-fashioned face.
Harper’s breath caught.
Kyle had worn it twice in front of her.
The first time had been at Christmas.
The second had been the night he proposed.
“He told me that belonged to his grandfather,” she whispered.
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
“It belonged to my brother.”
The room went quiet.
Harper looked from the picture to him.
Lucian’s face had changed. The careful amusement from earlier was gone. So was the intimidating stillness he seemed to wear like a tailored coat.
This looked personal.
“My brother Matteo died six years ago,” he said. “That watch disappeared the same week.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“I know.”
“You thought I did.”
“I thought you might know where it was.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did Kyle text you about it two days after you left him?”
Harper opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Lucian’s eyes stayed on hers.
“He didn’t ask whether you had his laptop,” Lucian said. “He didn’t ask about his passport, the cash in the safe, his mother’s crystal, or the cuff links he claims are worth more than most cars. He asked about that watch.”
Harper remembered the message.
Did you take my grandfather’s watch?
Not where are you.
Not can we talk.
Not I’m sorry.
The watch.
Her stomach tightened.
“Why does it matter?”
Lucian shut the folder.
“Because Matteo wasn’t sentimental.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No.”
She crossed her arms. “Then I’m leaving.”
Gideon shifted.
Lucian did not.
Harper pointed toward the elevator. “You had men outside my apartment. You ran my identity. You brought me here under the excuse of an interior design project, and now you’re showing me surveillance photographs of the man I was supposed to marry. If you want me to stay in this room, you need to stop speaking to me like I’m an employee you can fire.”
Something flickered in Lucian’s eyes.
Approval, maybe.
Or surprise.
He walked to the window.
Thirty-eight floors below, Lake Michigan looked steel gray beneath the morning clouds.
“The watch opens something,” he said.
Harper waited.
“Not mechanically. Digitally.”
She looked at the photograph again.
“The caseback contains an encrypted storage wafer. Matteo put it there because he knew our family searched phones, computers, safes. Nobody searched the watch he wore every day.”
“What’s on it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know what he believed was on it.”
Lucian turned.
“Proof that someone inside Moretti Maritime used our shipping network to move people, weapons, and money through the port under falsified manifests.”
The blood drained from Harper’s face.
This was no longer a cheating-fiancé story.
This was a leave-Chicago-and-change-her-name story.
She reached for her purse.
Lucian stepped forward, but stopped several feet away.
“I’m not keeping you here.”
“Great.”
“But Kyle thinks you have the watch.”
“I don’t.”
“Kyle may not believe that.”
Harper froze.
Lucian continued quietly. “And Vittorio certainly won’t.”
She stared at him. “Your uncle?”
“He spent most of his adult life believing the Moretti name made him untouchable.”
“Does it?”
Lucian’s mouth curved without humor.
“Less every year.”
Harper grabbed the folder and flipped through it again.
There were bank transfers. Property records. Photographs. A printout of Kyle’s calls.
And then she saw a name she recognized.
Mara Voss.
Her boss.
The owner of Voss & Hart Interiors.
Harper’s pulse skipped.
“Mara?”
Lucian came closer.
On the page was a payment of $48,000 from a shell consulting firm to Voss & Hart.
Three days later, another payment for $23,000.
Then $61,500.
Harper shook her head. “Those could be client retainers.”
“They could.”
“You don’t think they are.”
“No.”
“Then why did she send me here?”
“Because I asked for you.”
Harper looked up sharply.
Lucian held her gaze.
“After last night, my people looked into you. Your name appeared in three places connected to Kyle’s activity.”
“Because I lived with him.”
“One was your apartment.”
“Obviously.”
“One was your company.”
Her irritation vanished.
“And the third?”
Lucian pointed to the top sheet.
Harper followed his finger.
A list of building-access credentials.
One line was highlighted.
H. DELANEY — TEMPORARY CONSULTANT ACCESS — MORETTI TOWER — 03/14
Harper read it twice.
Then a third time.
“I’ve never worked in Moretti Tower.”
“I know.”
“I’ve never even been inside.”
“I know.”
“That isn’t my access card.”
“It was created using your employee ID, your license number, and your company authorization.”
Harper’s mouth went dry.
Lucian’s voice lowered.
“Someone has been using you as a ghost.”
She sat down without meaning to.
The marble stool felt cold beneath her legs.
Her mind began rearranging the last year.
Kyle borrowing her laptop because his battery died.
Kyle asking her to email him a copy of her professional license because his company needed it for a homeowners’ insurance quote.
Kyle taking a photograph of her employee badge after joking that she looked like a hostage in the picture.
Kyle asking where her firm stored client drawings.
She had thought he was interested in her work.
She had thought he was proud of her.
“Oh my God.”
Lucian’s voice softened. “Harper.”
She pushed back from the island.
“No. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Say my name like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m about to break.”
His face went still.
“I’m not going to break.”
“Good.”
“I’m going to vomit first.”
Gideon moved faster than any man his size should have been able to move and produced a silver ice bucket.
Harper stared at him.
“I’m not actually going to vomit.”
He slowly lowered the bucket.
“Good to know.”
To her horror, a laugh escaped her.
It was short and broken and almost became a sob.
Lucian did not laugh.
He waited.
That somehow helped.
Harper pressed both hands against the edge of the island.
“What happens now?”
“You go home with Gideon.”
“No.”
“He will remain nearby.”
“No.”
“You are currently linked to a missing piece of evidence that at least three dangerous men want.”
“Three?”
“Kyle. Vittorio. And whoever actually killed my brother.”
Harper went very still.
“You think Matteo was murdered.”
“I know he was.”
The words carried no drama.
That made them worse.
Harper looked at the windows, the city, the calm expensive room that suddenly felt like the center of something poisonous.
Then she looked at Lucian again.
“Why me?”
He frowned.
“You could have had your people question me. You could have sent lawyers. You could have called the police. Instead, you requested me for a design project.”
Lucian glanced toward the main living area.
The penthouse was beautiful in the cold way hotels were beautiful. White limestone. Dark oak. Perfect furniture that looked as if nobody had ever sat on it.
“It actually needs redesigning.”
Harper blinked.
Gideon coughed into his fist.
Lucian ignored him.
“My mother says it looks like a mausoleum.”
“It does.”
Lucian stared at her.
She lifted one shoulder. “You asked for a designer.”
Another almost-smile appeared.
Then vanished.
“I wanted a reason to speak to you without alerting Kyle or Vittorio that we had connected you to the watch.”
“So this is camouflage.”
“Partly.”
“And the other part?”
Lucian looked around the enormous gray room.
“My mother is right.”
Harper almost laughed again.
Instead, her phone rang.
Kyle.
His name filled the screen even though she had deleted the contact. The number was too familiar not to recognize.
Lucian looked down at it.
“Don’t answer.”
Harper’s anger returned like a match struck in gasoline.
“I spent four years letting that man decide what I should know.”
She picked up the phone.
“I’m done letting other men do it.”
She answered.
“What?”
Kyle exhaled on the other end.
“Harper, thank God. Where are you?”
“Why?”
“I came by the sublet.”
Every muscle in her body tightened.
Lucian straightened.
“You did what?”
“The landlord let me up because I said I was your fiancé.”
“You’re not.”
“Harper, please. This is serious. I need the watch.”
“I don’t have it.”
Silence.
Then Kyle’s voice changed.
The gentle tone disappeared.
“Check the boxes you took from my office.”
Harper frowned.
“I didn’t take anything from your office.”
“Yes, you did. The movers packed the walnut valet box from my desk with your things.”
She remembered.
A dark wooden box she had assumed contained her earrings because it had been sitting on the bedroom dresser after the movers arrived.
She had thrown it into a larger carton without opening it.
Her heart began to pound.
Kyle whispered, “If you still have that box, do not open it.”
Harper looked at Lucian.
Lucian had heard every word.
His face had gone deadly still.
Kyle continued.
“Harper, listen to me. Whatever Moretti told you, you don’t understand what you’re carrying.”
Lucian’s eyes locked on hers.
Harper gripped the phone.
“How do you know I’m with Lucian Moretti?”
Silence.
A long one.
Then Kyle said softly,
May you like
“Because I’m looking at the car that brought you there.”
The call ended.
