Page 94 of Forsaking All Others

I knew better and thanked la Madonna, Jesus, and God in reverent Italian under my breath as I reached Dario’s study and slammed through the door.

The panic room was accessed through an enormous life-size portrait of the Roman god, Mercury. I’d always thought it was funny, the trickster god and leader of souls to Hades being the sentry to our safe haven.

I wasn’t laughing now as I heaved the painting away from the wall and punched the code into the panel with sweaty fingers. The mechanisms whirred as I heard voices down the hall coming closer.

The reinforced metal door was so heavy, the soles of my feet slipped against the smooth wood floor as I wrenched it open and sprinted inside, yanking it shut with every ounce of strength I possessed just as I caught a flicker of movement by the office door.

The click of the lock echoed through the safe room like a bullet slotting into a chamber.

I fell to the floor on my ass, staring at the door as if it was a flimsy curtain the imposter husband could simply push aside to get to me.

“You’re safe,” I repeated on my panting breath, hoping it would sink in with repetition.

But I wasn’t, not yet.

I was still inside a home with a strange man whose intentions were a complete mystery to me. Did the rest of the staff and the Outfit know about the interloper who looked markedly like my disappeared husband, or had the wool been pulled over their eyes too? Was this man an enemy sent to implode the Chicago Mafia from the inside out?

I’d left my phone upstairs on the bed, but there was a landline and a satellite phone in the room with me. There was also a red button to push that instantly alerted the police. Even mafiosos turned to law enforcement if their own troops had been compromised. I scrambled to my feet and moved to the desk, picking up the sat phone and dialing a number I was incredibly grateful to have memorized.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Fiammetta.”

A voice over the household intercom startled me so badly, I dropped the phone and watched the case shatter, black plastic cracking off into pieces along the cement floor.

How the hell had this stranger figured out how to work the house system so quickly?

What else did he know about this house and Dario’s life?

Enough to convince me he was my husband.

Bile swelled metallic bright on the back of my tongue, and I barely made it to the trash can beside the desk before I threw up into the receptacle.

“Let me in, Fia.” His voice crackled over the speakers, but the force of his will was ironclad. “You’re trapped.”

I wasn’t sure if he could hear me, but obviously, he had access to a video feed of the room because he’d seen me pick up the phone to call Hank.

“I can call in the cavalry,” I said loudly, proud of the way my voice didn’t shake. “I’m not some lonely girl fresh from Sicily anymore. I have friends who will come looking for me if I disappear.”

The fake Dario’s husky chuckle rippled through the room.

How the fuck did he sound so much like my husband?

Chills erupted at the base of my spine and slithered through my blood until it felt like ice. Whatever happened, I wasn’t sure I would ever be warm again.

I’d slept with this man.

Begged him.

Told him I was his when I wasn’t even my husband’s to own that way.

I gagged again but thankfully didn’t have anything left to retch.

“You’ll be grateful in the future if you do as I say and let me in,” he continued implacably. “Either way, I won’t be kept from you. You must let me explain.”

“Explain!” I shouted, throwing something at random from the desk at the metal door, where it connected with an explosive bang. “Explain how you’re a fucking stranger and Dario is God knows where? Who. The. Fuck. Are. You!”

A moment of silence followed by a long beleaguered sigh.

“Come vuoi,” he said quietly.