Chapter 5 - The Hostage
Clara dropped the photograph as if it burned her fingers.
She backed away from the kitchen counter.
She backed away from Adriano.
He picked up the photo, his expression unreadable.
"Clara, let me explain."
"You hired him," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"You hired the man who shot at us."
"It was theater," Adriano said, taking a step toward her.
"I needed you to believe Martin was trying to kill you."
"I needed you to trust me so you would lead me to the ledger."
Clara felt the room spinning.
She had traded one monster for a much worse one.
"You're insane."
"You could have actually killed me!"
"My men don't miss," Adriano said coldly.
"It was a calculated risk."
"And it worked."
"You told me where the ledger is."
Clara scrambled backward, her hand blindly searching the counter for a knife.
"I'm not helping you."
"I'll go to the police."
Adriano let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
"The police?"
"Martin Hale owns the police."
"He owns the judges."
"He owns the politicians."
"The only thing he doesn't own is my family's money, which he stole."
He closed the distance between them in two massive strides.
He grabbed her wrists, pinning them gently but firmly to her sides.
"I am the only chance you have to survive this week, Clara."
"I lied to you because I had to."
"But I am telling you the truth right now."
"We need that key."
Clara stared into his dark, ruthless eyes.
"And how are we supposed to get it?"
"He's surrounded by security."
"Tomorrow night is the Mayor's charity gala," Adriano said.
"Martin will be there."
"And so will we."
"You are going to seduce him, get close, and lift the chain off his neck."
Clara scoffed, shaking her head wildly.
"I am a secretary, not a spy."
"I don't know how to pickpocket."
Adriano let go of her wrists and reached into his coat pocket.
"You won't be doing it alone."
"I brought someone to teach you."
He whistled sharply toward the open doorway.
Footsteps echoed in the hall.
A man stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light of Clara's ruined kitchen.
He wore a dark leather jacket, his face rugged and scarred.
Clara's knees buckled.
She grabbed the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing.
"No," she gasped.
"That's impossible."
The man gave her a sad, crooked smile.
"Hello, Clara."
May you like
It was Lucas.
Her fiancé who had died in a car crash three years ago.
