Chapter 5 - The Mountain Lodge
The road to the mountain lodge was treacherous, a winding ribbon of broken asphalt that cut through the dense pine forests of the Appalachian ridge. I had left the twins with Mr. Pike, who had returned early that morning with a newly repaired transmission and a stern warning to "be careful with that city fellow."
I didn't care about the truck or the weather. My old rental sedan groaned as I pushed it up the steep incline, my mind playing the transcription over and over again. Get off me, Vanessa.
I had spent three years hating him. I had spent three years telling myself that the father of my children was a monster who preferred my sister’s poison to my love. To find out that my own sister had orchestrated my ruin—and that I had assisted her by running away—was an agony that made the skin on my arms itch with a sudden, frantic energy.
When I pulled up to the lodge, the black Escalade was parked outside a secluded log cabin at the edge of the property. The wind was howling through the pines, scattering dead leaves across the porch.
I didn't knock. I pushed the door open, the warm air of a roaring stone fireplace hitting me instantly.
Luca was sitting in a leather armchair by the fire, a half-empty bottle of scotch on the table beside him. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the heavy, intricate tattoos that marked his status in the Moretti hierarchy. He looked up, his amber eyes reflecting the flames, and for a second, he didn't move, as if he believed I was another hallucination brought on by the alcohol.
"Sarah," he breathed, standing up so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the pine floor.
"Why didn't you look for me through the family channels?" I demanded, my voice raw as I slammed the door behind me. "If you knew Vanessa was working with Marcus Vance, why didn't you put out a wire? Why didn't you use your men to find me within twenty-four hours?"
Luca stopped five feet away from me, his chest heaving. "Because Vance had a mole in my inner circle, Sarah. If I had put out a formal search through the Moretti network, Vance’s hitmen would have found you before I did. I had to pretend I didn't care. I had to let the city believe I had moved on, while I personally reviewed every security feed, every highway camera, and every small-town tax record myself for thirty-six months."
He took a step closer, his eyes searching my face with a desperate, frantic intensity. "The day you left, I went crazy. I put a gun to Vanessa’s head until she confessed to the text messages. But by then, you were already gone. I couldn't risk using my power to find you because my power was exactly what made you a target."
"And Vanessa?" I whispered, my heart aching for the sister I thought I knew.
"She’s in a secure facility in upstate New York," Luca said, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register that left no room for doubt. "She will never leave it, Sarah. I didn't kill her only because she carried your mother’s blood. But she is dead to the world."
I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping my lashes and tracking through the flour dust still lingering on my cheek. Before I could pull away, Luca crossed the remaining distance between us. His large, warm hands came up to frame my face, his thumbs brushing the moisture from my skin with a gentleness that broke the last of my defenses.
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"I don't care about the empire, Sarah," he whispered fiercely, his forehead dropping against mine. "I don't care about Chicago. I found you. I found my family. If you tell me to leave, I’ll walk away from the Moretti name tomorrow and buy a house down the road from your bakery. Just don't tell me those children aren't mine."
"They are yours, Luca," I sobbed, my hands finally rising to grip his wrists. "They look exactly like you."
