Chapter 6 - The Gala With No Exit
Lucian wanted to cancel the gala.
Harper refused.
“You cancel, Vittorio knows we’re afraid.”
“We are afraid.”
“I’m not.”
Lucian stared at her.
Harper corrected herself.
“I’m terrified. But that’s different.”
Mara sat at the conference table in the safe house, arms crossed.
Gideon stood beside a whiteboard covered in floor plans of the St. Clair Hotel.
The charity gala had been scheduled for months. Four hundred guests. Three politicians. Two judges. Moretti Maritime executives. Press.
The perfect place for Vittorio to hide in public.
And the perfect place for Kyle to force an exchange.
Lucian tapped the ballroom plan.
“We control every entrance.”
Gideon shook his head. “We control every entrance we know.”
Harper looked at the drawing.
“Not that one.”
Everyone turned.
She pointed to a blank section behind the ballroom stage.
“There’s a service corridor.”
Gideon frowned. “Not on this plan.”
“It was removed during the 1998 renovation.”
Lucian looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Voss & Hart redesigned the presidential suites five years ago. The original plaster wall was never demolished. They just closed both ends.”
Mara nodded slowly. “She’s right.”
Harper traced the route with her finger.
“If one end was reopened, you could enter the ballroom behind the stage without crossing security.”
Gideon’s face darkened.
“Vittorio knows old buildings.”
“So does Mara,” Lucian said.
Mara’s expression sharpened. “If I wanted Harper dead, I would have left her ignorant.”
Lucian’s gaze stayed cold.
Harper slapped her palm against the table.
“Enough.”
Both looked at her.
“I have spent forty-eight hours being lied to by people who think their personal tragedies justify using me. I do not care which of you hates the other more.”
Gideon looked down, possibly hiding a smile.
Harper continued. “Sloane is alive right now. That is the problem.”
Lucian’s expression softened slightly.
“Fine.”
Mara nodded.
They built a plan.
The metal case would be real.
The documents inside would not.
The actual ledgers and flash drive had already been copied and placed with Lucian’s attorney.
A federal prosecutor Lucian had quietly been working with for eight months would have agents staged outside the hotel.
That revelation almost made Harper throw a pen at him.
“You have a federal prosecutor?”
“I have several legal complications.”
“You could have mentioned federal law enforcement before armed men outside my door.”
“They were not supposed to be visibly armed.”
Gideon raised a hand. “That remains my fault.”
Harper glared at both of them.
By seven-thirty the next evening, the St. Clair Hotel glittered like nothing bad had ever happened inside it.
Harper wore red.
Not because Kyle told her to.
Because she wanted him to see her coming.
The gown was simple, dark crimson, with long sleeves and a high neckline.
No necklace.
No fragile shoes.
Gideon had insisted on flats hidden beneath the skirt.
“Running is more important than suffering beautifully,” he had said.
Lucian waited near the ballroom entrance in a black tuxedo.
When he saw her, he stopped speaking mid-sentence.
Harper raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You forgot how words work?”
“Temporarily.”
Her pulse betrayed her.
She looked away.
“This is not a date.”
“I am aware.”
“People will think it is.”
“I cannot control people.”
Harper gave him a look.
Lucian sighed. “I am learning not to try.”
They entered together.
Cameras flashed.
Whispers moved through the room.
Harper heard her own name twice.
Then Kyle appeared near the far bar.
He looked perfectly normal.
That was the worst part.
Navy tuxedo. Clean shave. Calm smile.
He could have been waiting to taste wedding cake.
His eyes found Harper.
Then the metal case in her hand.
He touched his phone.
Harper’s phone buzzed.
Dance floor. Alone.
Lucian saw the message.
“I don’t like it.”
“You’ve established that.”
“I can go instead.”
“He wants me.”
Lucian’s jaw tightened.
Harper touched the silver emergency pin hidden at her waist.
“I have Gideon.”
“I find that insulting.”
For the first time that night, she smiled.
Then she walked away.
Kyle met her at the edge of the dance floor as a string quartet began playing.
“Dance with me,” he said.
“No.”
“People are watching.”
“Good.”
“Harper.”
She held up the case. “Where is Sloane?”
“Safe.”
“Show me.”
Kyle lifted his phone.
A live video showed Sloane tied to a chair in what looked like a hotel laundry room.
Harper’s throat tightened.
Kyle whispered, “Give me the case.”
“Release her first.”
“I can’t.”
“Then you don’t get this.”
Kyle smiled faintly.
“You became brave very quickly around Moretti.”
“I was always brave. You just benefited from pretending I wasn’t.”
His expression changed.
For a second, Harper saw the man behind the fiancé.
Cold.
Calculating.
Then he looked past her.
“Lucian has no idea what his family is.”
“Neither do you.”
Kyle leaned closer.
“I have the watch open.”
Harper’s pulse jumped.
“What was on it?”
“Enough to destroy him.”
“Lucian?”
“Every Moretti.”
Harper watched his face.
“You haven’t decrypted it.”
Kyle’s eyes flickered.
There.
A tell.
He needed the metal case because Mara’s files contained the encryption key.
Harper smiled.
“You can’t open the data.”
Kyle’s face hardened.
“Give me the case.”
“No.”
The lights went out.
Screams filled the ballroom.
Harper dropped instantly, just as Gideon had taught her.
A gunshot cracked.
Then another.
Emergency lights flickered red.
People surged toward the exits.
Kyle grabbed Harper’s wrist.
She drove her heel down onto his foot and ripped free.
He swore.
Another shot.
Harper ran toward the stage.
Not away.
Because the hidden service corridor was there.
Kyle followed.
She could hear him behind her.
“Harper!”
She reached the velvet curtains and slipped through.
A hand grabbed her from the darkness.
She almost screamed.
Lucian covered her mouth.
“It’s me.”
She shoved him.
“Do not do that.”
“Noted.”
Gunfire sounded from the ballroom.
“Where’s Gideon?”
“Getting guests out.”
“Sloane is in a laundry room.”
“Which floor?”
“Video looked basement level.”
Lucian spoke into his radio.
Harper looked at the service wall.
A section of plaster had been broken open.
The corridor beyond was dark.
“Vittorio came through here.”
Lucian nodded.
They moved inside.
Halfway down the passage, Lucian stopped.
A man stepped from the shadows with a gun.
Harper recognized him from photographs.
Vittorio Moretti.
Silver hair. Elegant tuxedo. No hurry.
“Lucian,” he said almost sadly. “You always were Matteo’s shadow.”
Lucian moved in front of Harper.
Vittorio smiled.
“And now you’re hiding a designer behind you.”
Harper leaned around Lucian.
“At least I have a useful profession.”
Vittorio’s smile vanished.
Lucian muttered, “Not the time.”
Vittorio raised the gun.
“Give me the case.”
Harper held it tighter.
“No.”
“You don’t know what is in it.”
“I know enough.”
Vittorio looked at Lucian.
“Does she know what your father did?”
Lucian said nothing.
Vittorio laughed softly.
“She doesn’t.”
Then he looked at Harper.
“Matteo wasn’t killed because he found my operation.”
Lucian went still.
Vittorio’s eyes gleamed.
“He was killed because he discovered who started it.”
Harper whispered, “Enzo.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
A voice came from behind Vittorio.
“No, brother. Now we’re finished.”
An older man stepped into the corridor.
Lucian’s face changed.
“Father.”
Enzo Moretti raised a gun.
May you like
But he was not aiming at Vittorio.
He was aiming at Lucian.
