[COMPLETED] Still in Her Wedding Gown, She Hid in a Mafia Boss’s Car—Then He Read the Name Sewn Into Her Veil

“Chloe?”

Liam's voice followed her into the service passage.

She didn't answer.

The door swung shut behind her, catching a strip of ivory fabric before she pulled the gown free. A stairwell lay ahead. To her right, a service elevator showed its floor number descending with maddening slowness.

Chloe chose the stairs.

The skirt made each step an argument. She gathered it in both hands and hurried down the narrow concrete flights, listening for the sound of another door opening above her. Somewhere beyond the wall, the hotel was preparing to play the music that would bring her toward the man who had just discussed leaving her to Dominic Russo's people.

She had heard every word.

Five million dollars. Osprey Holdings. Her name on every authorization.

And Samantha.

She nearly missed the landing when she remembered the kiss.

Ten years coordinating freight contracts had taught Chloe the importance of a chain of custody. A container didn't disappear merely because somebody changed the name on its paperwork. Money worked the same way, or so she wanted to believe. Right now she had no papers, no witness she trusted, and a wedding gown that announced her location to anyone who looked.

The service corridor at the bottom smelled of detergent. A laundry cart stood beneath a flickering ceiling light. Chloe passed it, found a metal exit marked for hotel personnel, and pushed into the rain.

Cold struck her face.

The loading area was bordered by delivery bays and dark vehicles. She could hear traffic somewhere beyond the buildings, but she couldn't see the main street. She searched for a taxi and found none.

Her phone was still in the bridal suite.

So were her bag and identification.

She started toward the opening at the end of the service drive. The hem of her gown snagged beneath one shoe. She stumbled, struck both knees against the rough pavement, and cried out before managing to stand.

Blood appeared through the wet lace.

She pulled off her shoes. The heels had become worse than useless. Barefoot, she moved faster.

Behind her, an exterior door opened.

“Chloe!”

Liam.

He hadn't sounded frightened in the library. Now there was urgency in his voice, which frightened her more.

She saw a black sedan waiting beneath a narrow awning. Its rear door was slightly open. A driver stood near the front, speaking quietly into an earpiece.

Chloe didn't consider the consequences.

She threw herself through the opening and onto the floor behind the front seats.

“Please,” she managed. “Don't let him find me.”

A hand closed the rear door.

For one terrible second she thought she had made a mistake.

Then she looked up and saw the man from the library.

Charcoal suit. Dark hair. The same unnerving stillness. He had reached the vehicle by a separate route while she fled through the stairwell. He was sitting across the rear compartment, his attention fixed on the service-drive entrance.

“Drive,” he told the man in front.

The sedan moved before Chloe could say another word.

Only then did the stranger look at her properly. His gaze moved over the torn gown, the scrapes on her knees, and the veil she had dragged through the rain.

“You're hurt.”

“I can manage.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

He reached toward the torn fabric and stopped, waiting until she gave a small nod. Then he lifted its rain-soaked edge without touching her face. A black leather glove brushed the embroidery Arthur had chosen.

Osprey.

The man's expression changed.

Not much.

Just enough.

“Osprey Holdings.”

Chloe stopped breathing.

“You were in the library,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Did you hear them?”

“Enough.”

She sat up despite the pain in her knees. “Who are you?”

“Dominic Russo.”

The name settled between them like an object neither could move.

The stolen money belonged to him.

Liam had mentioned him. Samantha had feared him. And the man from the dark corner had been listening while they planned to make Chloe responsible for his missing five million dollars.

She moved toward the far door.

“Don't,” Dominic said. “We're on the expressway.”

“Are you taking me somewhere to punish me?”

He looked almost offended by the inefficiency of the question.

“Have you signed those papers?”

“No.”

“Then I'm interested in why somebody wants me to believe you did.”

“I didn't know about the company until tonight.”

“I believe you didn't know what Liam intended. I haven't decided how much else to believe.”

It was not a comforting answer.

It was, Chloe realized, an honest one.

She pressed her bare feet against the car's floor mat. Her body had begun to shake now that she wasn't running. Dominic took a sealed bottle of water from the compartment beside him and set it within her reach. He didn't insist she drink.

“My father's boat,” she said. “That's where the name came from. Osprey. He had it for twenty-two years.”

Dominic glanced at the veil again. “And the company?”

“Incorporated three weeks ago. Delaware. Liam said the folder was liability paperwork.”

“Do you remember who was listed as manager?”

“Me. If I signed.”

“And the date of the document?”

She closed her eyes, trying to picture the page under the amber lamp. “I didn't get that far. I heard Samantha.”

He nodded once, as though the uncertainty counted in her favor.

“I was at the Bellmont because Liam's firm handled an investment for one of my companies,” he said. “An escrow balance is missing. I was trying to determine whether it had been stolen or merely concealed. Your fiancé answered that question for both of us.”

“Then why were you sitting in the library?”

“I knew he was at the hotel. I was waiting to meet an attorney there. I didn't expect the bride.”

Chloe studied him. “You could have stopped him.”

“Yes.”

The admission came without excuse.

“Why didn't you?”

“Because until I heard him talking about making you responsible, I didn't know where the money had gone. Because I wanted evidence. And because I misjudged how far he'd go.”

She remembered Liam's answer to Samantha's final question.

That stops being our problem.

“He meant to kill me,” she said.

Dominic didn't disagree. “He certainly wasn't planning to protect you.”

The car turned away from the busier streets. Chloe looked at the dark windows and felt another kind of fear rise.

“Where are we going?”

“To a place he doesn't control.”

“I don't belong to you because he stole your money.”

“No,” Dominic said. “You don't.”

He took a phone from his jacket. “I can arrange a lawyer who has no connection to my organization. You choose whether to speak to her. You'll also need medical attention.”

“And if I ask you to stop the car?”

“When it's safe, the driver stops.”

Chloe stared at him, searching for the condition hidden inside the offer.

She had trusted one man because he smiled like somebody safe. She had distrusted another because everyone told her he was dangerous. Tonight those assumptions had left her bleeding in the back of a stranger's car.

Dominic's phone vibrated. He read the message, then turned its screen away before speaking.

“Your wedding has been canceled. Liam is telling the hotel staff you're distraught and missing. His security people are looking for you.”

“His security people?”

“He hired a separate team for the ceremony.”

Chloe remembered the private jet, the extravagant honeymoon, and how quickly Liam had pressed her to marry after Arthur's funeral.

“Where was he going to take me?”

Dominic waited a moment.

“That's the next thing we need to find out,” he said.

Then he placed a folded hotel schedule on the seat between them. On it, a departure had been circled for the following morning.

Not a commercial flight.